Elira's muscles burned with every step.
She dragged the ice sled forward, Kael barely conscious, the twins bundled tightly across her chest. Her arms trembled, legs faltering, but she didn't stop.
The Lower Realm pulsed around them with quiet awareness.
The deeper they went, the stranger the forest became. Roots shimmered faintly. Tree trunks pulsed with a slow, living glow. The mist parted just enough to guide her forward, never far, never fully gone.
They needed shelter.
Desperately.
Then, Kael stirred.
"There," he whispered, voice ragged.
Elira looked up. Half-buried beneath glowing vines and warped branches, an ancient stone arch stood, crooked and broken. Beyond it, a ruin, cracked walls, crumbled towers, and unfamiliar symbols carved deep into every surface.
She hesitated. The place reeked of old magic.
But it was covered. Protection.
She stepped through the archway.
Inside, the air was still. The mist hovered at the threshold but did not enter. It was dry, cool, almost preserved.
Elira collapsed to her knees, gently setting the twins down. Kael's breathing was shallow, but steady.
For the first time since the fall, they were not in motion.
They were not hunted.
Not yet.