Colin knelt beside the marker post and traced the dark stains with his gloved fingers. The footprints led away from the border in two directions — one set smaller and deliberate, the other heavy and dragging. He recognized the tread pattern of the smaller boots before his mind could stop itself from knowing. The old barrier wall rose behind him, its crumbling sandstone marked with the seal he had drafted into official policy. An amulet hung from the marker post, the amethyst catching what little moonlight broke through the clouds. Someone had left it as a warning or a claim. Colin did not touch it. He found the dagger ten paces past the marker, half buried in disturbed earth. The blue enamel work on the hilt was unmistakable. He had watched those hands grip that blade a hundred times in training drills. His chest tightened until breathing required deliberate effort. Colin stood and followed the trail into the forbidden zone. The fourteen months of justification and delay collapsed into a single truth. He had written the orders that sealed this border. Now he would cross it, rank be damned, because the person he loved had already paid the price for his caution.