With a deep inhale, Aeduan stepped away from the tree and into snowfall lit by the end of night. Magic surged through him. Such power in this body’s blood. It sparkled and warmed and set his muscles to itching.

Another breath, deeper. Longer. Reaching wider for some spark of rosewater or lullabies. There. A flicker to the north. Not far. Fresh enough that it might be the girl herself, instead of mere traces like this collar had left behind.

He set off. The magic consumed him, eliminating thought. Eliminating questions. There was only moving forward, only tracking this smell wherever it might lead. There was no past, no future, no ancient soul trapped for a thousand years or new soul trapped for several weeks.

There was clarity, there was speed, there was the hunt.

He moved faster, his boots falling lightly across the earth. Unimportant, unimpeding. When the Bloodwitchery coursed high, this body could fly.

The scent pulsed closer in Aeduan’s veins. The child waited ahead, beyond a clearing filled with forgotten walls like those in the Nomatsi camp and like his old soul had once seen before. Perhaps he had even been here when this fortress still stood.

Those memories could be untangled later, though. For now, there was only Saria. Near, near, so very near.

Then a second scent hit Aeduan’s awareness: Clear lake water and frozen winters.

He knew that smell. Knew it as well as he knew the child’s, as well as he knew Evrane’s … Except his mind conjured no face, no person, no name. This scent belonged to a specter. This scent belonged to a ghost. It had evaded the first Aeduan for months, leading him across the Witchlands.

And stealing silver coins.

Aeduan drew in steady, heavy breaths. The Bloodwitchery still throbbed inside his veins and muscles. The first Aeduan itched to find this mystery scent, and that first Aeduan was growing stronger and stronger by the hour.

Yes, he told that soul. We will look and then be on our way. He angled toward the clear lake waters. Crept toward the frozen winters. A fallen court waited ahead, four walls mostly still standing.

Aeduan slowed his pace to a predatory stalk and with all the silence that only magic-fueled muscles could achieve, he unsheathed a knife from his chest. The world around him was silent. Few plants had taken root here, as if the ruins frightened them away. Even the forest, which clustered close and stared down, offered no sounds of life. Only gentle snowfall.

And ah, there was Saria’s blood-scent too. The faintest whiff of lullabies and rosewater. She was in this tower.

Aeduan moved more slowly. His toes landed exactly where he wanted; no snow crunched. No leather creaked. After finding a small crack in the rubble that might have once been a door, he peered through. Saria sat upon a pile of broken marble.