Auralia froze in the shallows, water dripping from her bare skin, silvered by moonlight. The heat that had burned in my chest just moments ago turned to ice as a low growl rumbled through the air.My hand clenched my broadsword without thinking.
She pivoted toward the sound, her eyes sharpening — no longer playful, now razor-focused. There was no time to reach for her clothes, only the twin daggers resting just at the water's edge.Without hesitation, she rose from the river with a hiss, utterly unconcerned with her state of undress. Her entire being radiated the fierce confidence I'd seen countless times before in battle — vulnerable, yes, but utterly unafraid.
"Eiran," she said, voice tight, "they're already in the trees."
I stepped forward, sliding in front of her to shield her as best I could. Shadows slithered among the flickering edges of our campfire—first one, then another. Goblins. Dozens of them, their jagged teeth and crude blades glinting in the firelight as they crept into view.
"They've been stalking us all day," I muttered, "waiting for the right moment."
Auralia said nothing. She dropped into a defensive stance, water glistening on her skin, breath steady. There was no shame in her movements, no hesitation—only the instinct of a warrior ready to kill or die beside me.
I couldn't look at her for long. She was brilliant. Fierce. And—The shriek of a kobold sliced through the canyon air, a brutal signal to attack.
Then they came.
I raised my sword just in time to meet the first goblin's charge, the impact jolting down my arm. Behind me, I heard Auralia's breath as she moved—fast, precise—daggers flashing like lightning.We fought back-to-back in the firelight, her bare form a blur of grace and danger, the cold moon watching overhead like an indifferent eye.
Whatever words we'd been about to say… they would have to wait. If we survived, maybe then.The first goblin screamed as my broadsword cleaved through its chest, the force of the strike sending it sprawling into the dirt. I barely had time to catch my breath before another lunged—snarling, wielding a jagged spear aimed for my side.
I pivoted—too slow.
The spear sliced across my bare arm, but instead of pain, a searing warmth surged beneath my skin. The rune tattoos spiraling down my arm flared with blinding light—shifting, glowing, shielding.
The spearhead stopped short, meeting invisible resistance. My eyes widened as the goblin's weapon shattered with a crack like lightning, flung back several feet. The tattoos pulsed, burning with fire and ice all at once.
"What the hell—?" I muttered, staring at the living armor crawling over my skin as a low hum rose in my chest.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears. The air thickened with pressure. The Warden's marks flared to life, erupting with a blinding, white-hot light—like molten metal coursing through my veins.
I barely had time to breathe before it exploded.
Power burst from me like a shockwave—wild, raw, primal. The ground cracked beneath my feet. The very air tore with a sound like a thousand voices screaming at once. I didn't aim. I didn't control. I shattered.
A blast of raw energy rippled outward, flattening everything in its radius. Trees bent and splintered. The fire sputtered out. Goblins and kobolds flew like ragdolls against canyon walls—bones snapping, weapons scattering, screeches cut off mid-cry.
Auralia hit the ground behind me, shielding her head from the blast, her hair whipping in the roaring wind. The river surged and frothed beyond her, waves crashing against stone.
Then—silence.
Thick. Suffocating.
Smoke curled from my fingertips. My tattoos still glowed, pulsing like a fading heartbeat. My lungs burned; my knees shook. I scanned the wreckage, heart hammering, the world spinning around me.
The monsters were gone. All of them.
Auralia rose, eyes wide and stunned, water dripping from her skin. She opened her mouth, then closed it again."What… was that?" she whispered.
I had no answer. I didn't understand.
It wasn't like any magic I'd seen—no skill, no control. It was rage and fear and desperation unleashed in one devastating blast. Something inside me had broken loose.
I wasn't wielding the power.
The power was wielding me.
The silence that followed was deafening, as if the world itself held its breath.
My vision swam. Everything felt distant, like I was underwater, drifting away from my own body. My knees buckled, and I barely caught myself with one trembling hand, the other still tingling with the blast's aftershocks.
My breath came ragged. My chest ached. My head throbbed. The glowing runes along my arm flickered like dying embers, pulsing erratically before fading altogether.
I looked down at my hands—shaking, scorched, marked by something I didn't yet understand.
Auralia's voice cut through the haze, soft but close. "Eiran?"
I turned my head toward her. She hadn't moved, still standing amid the wreckage, arms crossed—not out of modesty, but stunned disbelief. She stared at me, not with fear… but with something worse.
Worry.
She stepped forward, slow and careful, as if I were something fragile. Or dangerous.
I tried to speak. To say I'm fine. To offer reassurance.
But my mouth wouldn't move.
The world spun.
And then I collapsed, face-first into the cold dirt, the last thing I felt before darkness swallowed me whole.
I heard her voice one last time—soft, panicked, and very far away.
"Eiran? Eiran—! Gods, please—"