FAELAN'S POV
We spent hours riding the line where the barrier met the mortal lands—through rolling fields, sparse woodland, skirting villages and towns that had no idea how close danger might be pressing against their borders.
But there was nothing. No tear. No distortion. Only the low, steady hum of the boundary… and the dark mist curling over it like an unbroken veil.
If there was a breach, then whoever... or whatever made it had hidden it well.
We paused only when the horses needed water and a moment’s rest. No one complained. Least of all, Aviona, still riding on my back. If anything, she seemed to savor the open air—the wind on her face, the sunlight warming her skin.
But whenever our path drew too near The Drift, her hands would tense in my fur, her grip tightening instinctively
