The clash of steel and the cries of the wounded tore the Graywood apart. Bandits pressed harder, a tide of ragged men with blades and painted faces, their war-cries raw enough to curdle blood. Steel rang against steel, shields splintered, flesh gave way. The air reeked of sweat, iron, and churned mud.
At the front, the captain was a storm unto herself. Her sword swept silver arcs through the air, carving men down, but even she could not stem the tide alone. For every raider cut down, two more clawed forward, snarling, hungry for plunder and blood.
Leo crouched behind the last wagon, breath rasping in ragged gasps. Dust burned his throat, coppery blood smeared across his lips. His vision swam with chaos, guards locked in desperate struggle, oxen screaming, raiders leaping onto the wagon boards with knives bared.
Beside him, the wagon boy sobbed, curling against the wheel, arms thrown over his head as though bone and flesh could shield him from steel.
Then came the shadow of a raider, tall and lean, wolfskin cloak trailing behind him. His blade rose high, cruel edge catching the light, ready to split the boy open.
Something inside Leo broke.
The shard erupted.
Light tore from his palm, shredding the bandages as if they were no more than cobweb. Threads of molten brilliance uncoiled into the air, serpentine and alive. They struck the raider mid swing. His body spasmed, mouth open in a strangled scream, before he collapsed bonelessly to the dirt.
The battle lurched into silence.
For an instant, an impossible instant, the forest itself seemed to hold its breath. Even the clash of swords faltered. All eyes turned.
Then the light lashed outward again, uncontrollable. It caught the next attacker square across the chest. His blade shattered on contact, bursting into shards that rained down like burning glass. His scream was drowned by the hissing crackle of brilliance.
Bandits recoiled, stumbling back from the blaze. Their snarls turned to curses, to shouts of fear. Fury guttered into dread.
The guards, too, froze where they stood, blades hovering mid-strike. Some stared wide-eyed, others whispered prayers under their breath. Even the oxen shivered and groaned, nostrils flaring at the unnatural heat in the air.
The captain's head snapped toward him. Her eyes locked on the boy in the dust, her gaze sharp, calculating, wary, not awe, not even disgust, but the cold weighing of a hunter who had just glimpsed a new kind of beast.
Leo staggered. The light burned through him, veins alive with molten fire. His body trembled as though hollowed out for something else to fill. His ears rang with the shard's voice, louder now than ever, pounding in time with his pulse.
Yes. More. Let them feel it. Let them kneel.
"No!" His voice cracked raw, torn from deep in his chest. He dragged at the current raging through him, tried to dam it back with nothing but will. Every heartbeat felt like a hammer against his skull, every breath a struggle against drowning.
But the forest stirred in answer.
The Graywood shivered, leaves trembling though no wind blew. In the shadows between its trunks, eyes gleamed faintly, cold, inhuman, countless. Watching. Waiting.
The shard's laughter rolled through his bones, thick as thunder.
Even the old things stir. They know what you carry. They will come.
The bandits faltered. Fear spread like fire through their ranks. Their leader bared his teeth, but his voice cracked with desperation as he spat, "Devilspawn!"
He gestured furiously, retreating into the treeline. One by one the raiders broke, dragging their wounded, fleeing into the forest's maw like smoke pulled back into a fire.
And then it was over.
Silence fell hard, broken only by the groans of the dying and the frantic panting of the living.
Leo collapsed to his knees. The light guttered and died, leaving only raw flesh beneath ruined bandages. Pain lanced up his arm, his hand nothing but a burned husk. The taste of iron flooded his mouth, thick and bitter.
The guards backed away as though from a fire. Some crossed themselves, others muttered, their eyes wide, their faces pale beneath grime.
The wagon boy stared at him with tear-streaked cheeks, lips trembling, as if unsure whether to thank him or beg for his life.
Boots crunched against gravel. The captain dismounted, every motion deliberate, each step slow and measured, as though approaching a wounded beast that might still bite. Her shadow fell across Leo where he knelt in the dust.
Her scar caught the light. Her eyes never wavered.
When she spoke, her voice was low and dangerous, the kind of calm that was sharper than a scream.
"What are you?"
Leo lifted his head. His vision swam. Words clung like thorns to his tongue, but none would come. Only the shard's whisper, soft and certain, curling into the hollow of his silence.
Tell her. Or lie. Either way… the road ahead has changed.