Days on the road passed in a steady rhythm—wagon wheels crunching over packed dirt, the creak of worn leather, and the occasional exchange of banter between Corin and Mira. Kael spent the daylight hours sitting beside Mira in the cart, sketching diagrams in the dirt or on scraps of parchment.
"No, no—atoms are like... building blocks. Tiny pieces of matter too small to see, even with magic," Kael explained one afternoon, drawing a simple diagram of a hydrogen atom. "One proton, one electron. They make up everything. Rocks, trees, people."
Mira squinted at the drawing. "So you're telling me rocks are made of these... tiny circles?"
"Sort of," Kael said with a small laugh. "They're not really circles, but it's the best way I can show you. It's not magic. It's science."
"It feels like a very weird kind of magic."
She tried to shape a stone with her Minor Creation skill, this time focusing on the idea of its atomic structure—but nothing happened.
"You're thinking too literally," Kael said. "It's more about understanding that everything has layers. Structure. The more you understand, the more precise your creation will be."
Mira sighed and leaned back. "You're lucky your brain works like that. I just imagine a rock and poof—a rock."
At night, they left the road and pulled into the forest or low hills to set up camp. Erion and the guards always insisted on pitching the tents far enough from the cart to conceal it beneath trees or brush. Kael found the peace of travel strangely relaxing. He slept lighter than he used to, always with one hand on the hilt of Halren's old sword.
Several days passed like that. Peaceful. Quiet.
Until one evening—too quiet.
They were pitching tents just before dusk when the forest around them shifted. The air grew still. The birds stopped singing.
A low growl split the silence, followed by a flash of movement in the shadows.
"Shadow beasts!" Bran shouted, reaching for his weapon—too late.
Three monstrous figures burst from the tree line. These weren't like the ones Kael had fought before—they moved faster, their bodies laced with black energy, eyes glowing faintly red. A wave of unnatural darkness spread from their forms, swallowing the camp in creeping shadows.
One of the beasts lunged at Bran and sank its teeth into his thigh. He screamed, slashing wildly as it tore away, a jagged tooth lodged deep in his leg.
Kael rolled to his feet and reached into his pouch, pulling out several small, sharp, rock-like projectiles he'd shaped earlier. Spiked, jagged, and sized precisely for what he needed.
The firelight flickered uselessly in the expanding shroud of darkness—until Kael activated Omni-Vision.
The beasts appeared in full clarity, even through the gloom. Magic coiled off them in twisted pulses. Their lungs glowed faintly with every breath.
Kael focused.
With a thought, one of the spiked stones blinked from his hand into the chest of the closest beast—inside its lung.
The result was instant.
The beast gagged and wheezed, coughing violently. Blood sprayed from its mouth as the sharp object shredded tissue from the inside. It dropped to its knees.
Kael didn't wait. He rushed forward and buried his sword in its skull.
Another charged him, snarling. Kael threw two more spiked stones into the air, teleporting them in rapid succession—one into the beast's throat, the other again into its lungs.
It staggered, let out a choked roar—and collapsed.
The third turned toward Mira, its claws raised.
Mira didn't flinch.
She raised both hands and summoned a burst of radiant light—her Light Weave skill igniting the night with an explosive flash. The beast howled, momentarily blinded and staggering in confusion.
Kael reacted instantly—teleporting a final spike into the creature's open maw. It jerked, hacking violently, and fell just short of reaching Mira. Kael finished it quickly, panting, blood splattered on his sleeves and cheek.
Silence returned.
Erion rushed to Bran's side, grimacing at the wound. "Tooth's buried deep," he muttered. "We'll need to deal with that soon, or it'll fester."
Kael stepped back from the bodies, shaking slightly, sword still in hand. The beasts were different—stronger. Smarter. And they used magic now.
But he'd adapted. Fast.
And he was going to need to keep doing just that.
Because something dark was coming.