Page 54 of The Last Remaining Light

Hearthwane, 749 A.V.

The road north leading away from the abbey felt lonelier with every passing sun.

For the first span after their departure, Elowynn kept catching herself looking toward the rear of the caravan whenever footsteps approached behind her carriage. Some foolish, aching part of her still expected to find Caelyn there, leaning against one of the supply wagons with snow caught in his dark hair and that easy, lighthearted expression existing somewhere between exhaustion and amusement, but always holding that smile he saved just for her.

Instead, there was only the road and tracks from the wagon wheels.

Long stretches of untamed wilderness unfurled beyond the carriage windows as the caravan climbed farther inland through the southern reaches of Aetheris. Winter was arriving early again. Bitter winds swept over the open hills hard enough to rattle the wagon frames during the darker bells, while frost silvered the forests and fields each morning beneath gray autumn skies. The lingering warmth of Hearthfall faded with every passing sun until even the travelers spoke less, conserving heat beneath heavy cloaks and layered wool. Had they known winter would arrive so early, the caravan would have departed sooner.

Only now did Elowynn begin to understand how vast Aetheris truly was. Lumenshire had always seemed isolated atop its western cliffs, but beyond them the continent unfolded without end. Entire spans passed without encountering more than a scattering of stone cottages gathered around dim astrylite lanterns, their resonance fading from turnings of neglect. Forests stretched beyond the limits of sight beneath skeletal branches, while distant black mountains lingered along the eastern horizon, veiled in drifting violet mist. They looked less like mountains than shadows waiting beyond the snow clouds.

She’d overheard the other travelers speaking in whispers about those mountains. Beyond them lay the Dimming Lands—an entire region left desolate after the worst Blackwake since the Great Vigil. Caelyn had once told her his home had been there. The thought sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the cold. She hoped she would never see that place.

Gray evening light filtered through the frosted carriage windows as Lumenshire slipped farther and farther behind them. There were no bells on the road. No crashing waves against the cliffs. Even with wagon wheels rumbling over the frozen earth and the low murmur of conversation between the travelers, the quiet felt unfamiliar.

Twenty people traveled with the caravan. Most were Astrari—scholars bound for Veylspire, merchants transporting winter goods, weathered guards hired from the southern territories, and two astrylite engineers entrusted with the observatory instruments packed beneath layers of cloth and reinforced crates. At every stop, the engineers inspected the cargo before anything else. Only six among them were human: three merchants, a scholar, and two guards.

Most everyone kept to themselves.

Elowynn often sat curled beside the carriage window with Caelyn's journal open across her lap. The leather cover had already begun to soften beneath her constant handling. Between passages, she found herself watching the countryside slip by—roads still broken from the wars, abandoned watchtowers, and villages that seemed to cling stubbornly to the fading glow of their astrylite lanterns. Though Starless sightings had become less frequent throughout the southern territories in recent turnings, no one believed the danger of the Dimming had truly passed.

Still, she read the same page more than once.

The words blurred together until the sounds of the caravan faded into the background.

Her thoughts remained far behind them, back atop the sea wall. Back beside Caelyn.

Stars, she missed him already.

She missed his dry scrutiny and missed watching him work around the abbey. She missed the sense of security she always felt whenever he stood nearby, his steadiness having been something she’d come to rely on. And worse?

She missed the way he looked at her.

The memory surfaced unbidden once more.

You always sound so certain about me.

Because he was. She now knew this to be true. Elowynn had denied what she witnessed in his eyes anytime he had looked at her, knowing if she had acknowledged it that she would not be on the road now.

She closed the journal with a sigh before pressing it against her chest. After a time, her eyes had slid closed, and she fell into a fitful sleep.

Voices outside, loud and tinged with concern, woke her.

Disorientation fell over her senses for only a moment before she turned to peer out the carriage window.

There had been a tangible shift in the air, a pressure or insistence in her blood that she could not ignore. Pressing her face against the glass had revealed the skeletal forests had turned into dense pine, the roads surrounded by their branches, heavy beneath frost and dying leaves. The lead wagon had stopped while several guards dismounted their horses near the front, hands resting in caution and unease near the weapons at their belts.

A wave of concern rippled through the travelers.

“What happened?” one of the scholars asked, her voice filled with tension.

“I am not certain,” replied Elowynn.

She pushed open the carriage door and stepped out into the freezing air. There was no wind here, the trees too thick for it to reach them, but it didn't stop the cold. Heavy plumes of her breath fogged the air around her. She noticed several travelers had already gathered near the halted wagons farther ahead.

She spotted Seralyth standing near the lead escort, speaking with one of the guards. Though Elowynn had argued repeatedly that she was more than capable of surviving the journey alongside the other scholars, her mother had refused. Even Agatha claimed it was unnecessary. Seralyth and Elowynn never had a particularly close relationship, but she had taught Elowynn everything she knew about being of noble birth. She didn't believe her mother traveled for Elowynn’s benefit, either. Instead, Elowynn believed it was because her mother had not been prepared to entrust the last surviving bloodline of House Selvicta to unfamiliar roads and strangers.

“Elowynn,” her mother called sternly upon noticing her approach, “stay near the caravan.”