Chapter 72 Beneath The Marshlight

• The campfire hissed and cracked as damp logs struggled to burn in the marsh’s thick air. A ring of faint light kept the fog at bay, but beyond it, the swamp whispered with unseen life—croaks, splashes, the occasional rustle of something slithering through the dark.
• The North had carved out a small island of safety. For tonight, at least, they rested.
• Kelvin sat closest to the fire, the third shard glinting at his side where he had placed it on a cloth. Its glow mingled uneasily with the flames, cold light and warm flicker clashing like rival kings. His hand rested on his knee, tense even in stillness.