"Your little adventure ends here, kid," Oryn said, sneering down at him. His sword lifted high into the air, catching the last weak rays of the dying sun. The blade gleamed wickedly as it hovered there for a moment, almost lazily, as if Oryn was enjoying dragging it out.
Caelum squeezed his eyes shut tight, so hard his whole face scrunched up. His little fists clenched at his sides. He waited for the blade, for the cold bite of steel, for the pain.
But it never came.
Instead, something warm and wet splashed against his face.
He flinched, gasping quietly. A strong metallic smell filled his nose — thick and heavy. His stomach twisted.
Blood!
The realization hit him hard and he opened his eyes — not slowly, but in a scared, desperate snap. He blinked fast, trying to clear the red that blurred his vision.
And then he saw it.
Oryn was still standing there for a second, sword half-raised, but his throat was wide open — a deep, ugly slash that gushed blood down the front of his armor. Oryn dropped his sword with a heavy thud, his hands flying up to his neck like he could somehow hold the blood inside. But it was useless. He gurgled once, a horrible wet sound, and then his knees gave out.
He fell backwards onto the dirt and he didn't move again.
The other men who had been surrounding Caelum jumped back, weapons ready, eyes wild. They whipped their heads around, trying to see who had done it.
But there was no one there.
No footsteps. No shadows. Nothing.
"AHHHHH!!! HELP ME!!!" one of them screamed suddenly.
They all spun around just in time to see him — one of their own — being yanked backward into the thick forest like a ragdoll, his screams fading into the darkness.
But they didn't even get a good look at what took him.
The others looked at each other, panic clear on their faces. Whatever pride or greed they had vanished in an instant. Instinct kicked in. They turned and ran without another word, boots pounding against the dirt.
Caelum watched it all from the ground, still too shocked to even think about moving. His chest rose and fell fast, the world around him spinning. He wanted to run too, but his legs wouldn't listen.
The problem was — it didn't matter how fast they ran.
Whatever was hunting them wasn't going to let them leave.
Caelum's wide, scared eyes followed one man, who leapt over a fallen branch, thinking he was getting away. But just as he sailed over it, something dark and fast — faster than anything Caelum had ever seen — snapped around his neck like a living vine.
The man let out a choking sound as he was yanked sideways, disappearing into the trees.
Caelum's heart skipped a beat.
He knew this power.
There was only one person he had ever seen move like that. Only one person who could use the forest itself like a weapon.
His uncle.
Caldris.
The fog thickened around the clearing, swirling low to the ground. In the misty darkness, shadows danced and sharp sounds of fighting echoed. One by one, the men who had chased Caelum fell — dragged into the mist, cut down without mercy.
Not one of them stood a chance.
Caelum stayed frozen where he was, heart pounding so loud he couldn't hear anything else. His fingers dug into the dirt. His body wanted to scream, to cry, but he didn't.
Finally, through the last fading tendrils of fog, a figure appeared.
Caldris.
He stood tall, his cloak torn and wet with blood. His black hair clung to his forehead, his sword still dripping. His face was cold and sharp, his grey eyes like a winter storm.
When he looked at Caelum, it wasn't with kindness.
It wasn't even with anger.
It was the way you looked at something... something you barely tolerated. Something that you had to clean up after.
"On your feet," Caldris said, voice cold as ice.
Caelum scrambled up instantly. He didn't even think about hesitating. You didn't hesitate around Caldris. Not if you wanted to keep your bones whole.
Caldris didn't waste a second. He grabbed Caelum by the collar, lifting him slightly off the ground. His grip was rough, almost painful.
Then — they moved.
It wasn't like running. It wasn't like riding.
It felt like falling sideways through a hole in the world. Caelum's stomach twisted, his head spun. Everything blurred into colors and cold and noise, and for a second he thought he might puke.
When they finally stopped moving, Caelum stumbled, barely catching himself. His knees hit the dirt hard.
He looked up — and the world around him broke his heart.
They were back at the house.
But it wasn't a home anymore.
The front door was hanging open, blood smeared across the wood. The small garden was crushed and torn up like a battle had raged through it.
And there, lying side by side in the dirt, were two bodies.
Corvin.
Calanthe.
His father's chest was still, his sword lying useless by his side. His mother's hand — the same hand that used to stroke Caelum's hair — was limp and pale.
Caelum's chest tightened so hard he couldn't breathe. He reached out one shaking hand toward them, but his voice was gone. No sound came out.
Behind him, Caldris let go of his collar, the man's cold breath ruffling Caelum's dusty hair.
Caldris turned his cold eyes to Caelum, his finger shaking slightly as he pointed at the lifeless bodies of Corvin and Calanthe. His voice didn't shout, but it was loud in a different way — full of quiet rage.
"This is your fault."
Caelum stopped crying. The tears were still on his cheeks, but they froze there, like even they were confused. He stared at his uncle, lips trembling, eyes wide — what?
His whole body was asking the question: How is this my fault?
He didn't even say it out loud. But Caldris saw it. Saw the look. And it made his anger explode.
Without a warning, he stepped forward and slapped Caelum hard across the face.
The force of it sent the boy rolling across the floor. He hit the ground hard and didn't move for a moment. Dirt stuck to his bloody cheek. His head rang.
Heavy boots thudded closer. Caldris stood above him again, like a shadow that blocked the whole sky.
"Why didn't you use your powers?" Caldris growled. His voice wasn't just angry now — it was disgusted.
Caelum slowly sat up, his hands trembling as they pushed against the ground. His mouth moved, and finally words came, broken and low.
"Father told me… not to use it…"
SLAP!
Another one, this time even harder. Caelum's head snapped to the side.
"Even if it means your father's in danger?"
Caelum sniffled. "Yes…"
SLAP!
"Even if they kill your mother?"
Caelum's voice was small. "Yes…"
SLAP!
"Even when your own life's in danger?"
"Y—Yes."
SLAP!
"Leave me alone!" Caelum suddenly shouted, his voice rising, cracking with pain and fear.
SLAP!
SLAP!
SLAP!
Each one echoed louder than the last. Caldris wasn't just striking him — he was making him remember. Making him feel small, useless, weak.
Caelum shut his eyes tight. His whole body shook now — not with fear anymore — but something else. Something deeper. A burning. A weight in his chest that hurt more than any slap ever could.
And then —
BOOM!
A storm exploded around him.
Winds rushed out from Caelum's small body, wild and full of rage. Leaves tore from trees, the ground cracked beneath him. The air around him twisted, space itself bending under the raw, untamed energy bursting out of him.
Caldris was blown back, his body flying through the air and slamming into a tree. The bark cracked behind him as he hit it, hard.
Dust and light swirled everywhere, and Caelum stood in the middle of it, glowing slightly. His fists were clenched, his eyes wild and shining with raw power. The storm roared for a moment longer, then faded, the wind dying slowly around him.
Caldris stood where the storm had flung him, his cloak torn, blood on his lip.
He wiped it away with the back of his hand and stared hard at Caelum.
"Where was that power…" he said slowly, bitterly, "…when your father needed it?"
Caelum opened his mouth — tried to speak. But nothing came out. His eyes rolled back.
His knees buckled.
And he collapsed to the ground like a puppet whose strings were cut.
His small chest rose and fell once… twice… then went still as he passed out, the power drained from him completely.
He looked peaceful, even with the dirt and blood on his face.
Caldris stared at him for a long moment.