Chapter 30: The Edge of the World

　　The storm broke just before dawn, leaving behind a world washed clean and eerily silent. The air was cold and sharp, the sky a pale, watery gray. In the hayloft, the fugitives awoke to the smell of damp earth and the distant, tentative song of a bird. The warmth and safety of the farmhouse felt like a dream already fading.

　　They descended the ladder in silence, their movements stiff and sore. Elara was waiting for them in the kitchen, her face grim. She handed them a cloth bundle. “Bread. Cheese. It’s not much, but it will keep you.” Her eyes met Violet’s, a world of unspoken understanding passing between them. “The patrols… they come from the west road at this hour. You’ll want to head east, into the Fingers.”

　　Kaelen was already outside, harnessing a sturdy, placid-looking draft horse to a simple, open cart piled high with hay. He didn’t look at them as he worked, his jaw set. “Get in,” he grunted, jerking his head towards the cart. “Under the hay. All of you.”

　　It was a desperate, brilliant plan. A farmer taking hay to market. A common sight. They scrambled into the cart, burrowing deep into the scratchy, sweet-smelling hay until they were completely buried. The world disappeared, replaced by a dusty, suffocating darkness. Caden felt the cart lurch as Kaelen climbed onto the seat, heard the cluck of his tongue and the horse’s heavy plod as they began to move.

　　The journey was an agony of suspense. Every jolt of the wheels felt like a tremor of discovery. They held their breath as they heard the muffled sound of other carts on the road, the distant call of a greeting. Once, the cart slowed to a stop.

　　“Morning, Kaelen,” a rough voice called out. A patrol.

　　“Sergeant,” Kaelen’s reply was curt, neutral.

　　“Seen anything unusual? A group of young people? Runners from the college.”

　　A pause. Caden’s heart hammered against his ribs. He could feel the tension in the bodies pressed against him.

　　“Just the usual,” Kaelen said. “Weather’s been foul. Keeping folks indoors.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Even the troublemakers.”

　　The sergeant grunted. “Aye. Well, keep your eyes open. The General wants them found.” The sound of hooves moved on. The cart lurched forward again.

　　Caden let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. They had passed the first test.

　　For hours, they traveled in their prickly tomb. The sun rose, heating the hay until it became an oven. Sweat dripped into Caden’s eyes, his throat was parched with dust. He lost all sense of time and direction, his world reduced to the smell of hay, the creak of the cart, and the terrifying uncertainty of what lay ahead.

　　Finally, the cart slowed and stopped. They heard Kaelen climb down. A moment later, his face appeared as he pulled back a layer of hay. “Out. Quickly.”

　　They scrambled from the cart, blinking in the sudden, harsh light. They were at the edge of a vast, rocky escarpment. Below them, the land fell away in a series of jagged, sheer cliffs and deep, shadowed gorges—the Fingers. It was a brutal, broken landscape, a natural fortress. In the far, hazy distance, beyond the chaos of the Fingers, Caden could just make out a shimmer on the horizon. A great river. The Tarwin. And beyond that, the spires of a city. Calldyr.

　　They had reached the edge of the world, and their goal was finally in sight.

　　“This is as far as I go,” Kaelen said, his voice low. He pointed a thick finger towards a narrow, treacherous-looking goat track that switchbacked down into the nearest gorge. “That path will take you down. The Fingers are wild. No patrols go deep. But neither does anyone else. You’ll be on your own.” He looked at them, his expression unreadable. “The truth you’re carrying… it had better be worth it.”

　　Without another word, he turned, climbed back onto his cart, and started back the way he had come, leaving them standing alone on the precipice.

　　The silence he left behind was immense. The wind whipped across the rocky plateau, tugging at their clothes. The scale of the challenge before them was daunting. The Fingers were a maze of stone and shadow. The city on the horizon seemed a world away.

　　Violet walked to the edge and looked down into the abyss. Her small figure was silhouetted against the vastness. She stood there for a long time, not speaking. Then, she turned to face them. The girl who had entered the Archives was gone. In her place was a woman forged in Scar and storm, her eyes holding the hard glint of the flint around them.

　　“We’re not going down there just to hide,” she said, her voice carrying clearly on the wind. She pointed towards the distant spires of Calldyr. “We’re going to cross the Fingers, cross the Tarwin, and walk through the gates of that city.” She looked at each of them in turn—Xaden, Garrick, Rhiannon, and finally Caden. “We’re going to the Royal Archives. And we’re going to prove that my mother is a traitor to this kingdom.”

　　It was no longer a hope. It was a declaration of war.

　　The fallen knight looked at his charge, this weapon he had helped to temper. The stream had carved its way through mountain and forest and plain. Now, it faced its final, most formidable obstacle. But as Caden met Violet’s unwavering gaze, he felt not fear, but a grim, unshakable certainty. They had come too far to fail. The truth was no longer a secret to be uncovered; it was a standard to be raised.

　　He adjusted the pack on his back, feeling the weight of the book Elder Kael had given him, the rune-stone still nestled in his palm. He nodded to Violet.

　　The descent into the Fingers began.

　　Chapter 30 - End