Chapter 99 The Path We Set
Damien
Morning comes quietly. No illusions. No forests that breathe. No doors pretending to know me better than I know myself. Just pale light seeping through the canvas and the steady, familiar warmth pressed against my side. Bella sleeps curled into me, her back fitted to my chest like this is where she’s always belonged, one hand resting over my ribs as though she anchored herself there sometime in the night and never let go. Her breathing is slow and even, hair a soft spill across my arm, mouth slack in sleep in a way she would never allow herself while awake. The dragon stirs lazily beneath my skin, content in a way that still feels new to me.
This version of reality, he murmurs. I approve. He pushes forward, taking control of my body and wrapping my hands around Bella a little tighter. He inhales her scent and purrs low for her, and I let him, because she is his mate too. I'm not the only one who's waited years for this kind of peace. I let him have his moment, even though Kings are trained to wake alert, to catalogue threats before comfort. It is bred into every fibre of our being to be on guard at all times, ready for anything, but this, right here? We earned this. The weight of yesterday still sits heavily in my mind. We were tested, measured, offered easier paths, and we refused them. We chose this version of us. Bella shifts slightly, pressing closer, and the dragon continues to purr without shame.
Quiet, I warn him silently.
She is asleep, he replies. I am allowed.
Eventually, the camp stirs. The sound of armour being put on reaches my ears. Someone coughs, and Ashlyn’s voice carries faintly from outside, already complaining about something that has not personally wronged her yet. I breathe out slowly and ease my arm from around Bella, careful not to wake her, then slip free of the bedroll and pull on my boots. When I step outside, the morning is crisp and clean. The woods sit far behind us now, distant enough not to feel like an immediate threat. The road ahead stretches wide and flat, real in a way enchanted places never are. Soldiers prepare a simple breakfast—hard bread, dried meat and something that might have once been porridge. They sit in loose clusters around the fire, exhaustion still etched into their movements, but there’s a lightness there that wasn’t present before. Survival will do that. One of them—young, earnest, still new enough to believe maps and planes never change—clears his throat.
“My king,” he says, respectful but hopeful. “How far now to the Glacial Sanctum?”
The fire pops softly as I take the map from my pack, smoothing it out on my knee. The markings haven’t changed. There's no magical shifting ink or new symbols bleeding through but we've now lost the quickest way through without the horses.
“On foot?” I say. “Five days. Six if the terrain turns against us.”
A murmur ripples through the group as people discuss what we might run into next and how far we can get between camps. After what we survived, five days feels almost generous. Red nods once from across the fire, satisfied, I think.
Ashlyn, however, groans dramatically. “I knew I should’ve stolen a horse.”
“We did have a horse,” I remind her.
“Yes,” she agrees. “And then I lost it. Tragic.”
Bella emerges a moment later, wrapped in my cloak that is far too big for her, eyes still soft with sleep. She accepts a cup of whatever we’re calling coffee today and leans into my side without comment. The dragon preens at that. Our mate grows comfortable with us.
Well, I would hope so after everything we've been through. I reply, knowing he's only communicating with me right now.
We pack up camp quickly and efficiently. No one lingers. No one argues, except for Ashlyn. The road ahead stretches long and wide, and another day of adventure awaits with it. We set out on foot. The day stretches long. The sun climbs. The road narrows and widens again, terrain shifting from gentle hills to harder ground. Ashlyn fills the silence like she always does, with stories, complaints, wildly inaccurate theories about what lives in the Sanctum and whether it eats people whole or just the annoying ones. Halfway through the day, the road splits, and I slow immediately.
One path curves left, sinking into shadow, trees crowding close, the air thick and heavy with that familiar, warning stillness. The other bends right, bright and open, sunlight spilling freely across packed earth and scattered along it...is breadcrumbs? I crouch and pick one up, rolling it between my fingers. Definitely bread. Real, dry, deliberately placed, hopefully not magically laced with something that is seeping through my blood right now.
Ashlyn brightens. “Oh! Fun. We’re doing that now.”
Bella frowns. “That feels… bad.”
Red says nothing, but her gaze stays fixed on the darker path. I check the map once. Then again.
“The map says left,” I say.
Ashlyn tilts her head. “And the breadcrumbs?”
“I don’t care,” I reply flatly.
The breadcrumbs don’t appear on the map. No symbol. No notation. No evidence that the trail even exists. There is only one path, and it says it leads left. I straighten, decision settling heavy and certain in my chest.
“We follow the map,” I say. “We follow the plan.”
Bella studies me for a moment, then nods. She doesn’t argue. I think she just trusts that I know what I'm doing, or at the very least that I will keep her safe. Red smiles faintly at the decision.
Ashlyn sighs. “You’re no fun at all.”
“I am extremely fun,” I tell her. “I just survive longer.”
We turn left, and the sunlight dims almost immediately, shadows stretching long and thin across the road. The breadcrumbs remain behind us on whatever trap that was, bright and inviting and utterly ignored.
The dragon coils tight beneath my ribs, pleased. Good, he says. You are learning.
I glance once over my shoulder toward Bella, walking steadily at my side, tired but unbroken. No fairytale gets to choose for us again. We walk on. Forward. Following the path we set out, the one we chose.