The forest was quiet, but not peaceful. Every crack of a branch underfoot made Adrian's nerves tighten. The void still lingered in his veins, faint and restless, like a whisper he couldn't silence.
Serenya walked close beside him, clutching his cloak. She hadn't spoken much since the border. Her wide eyes still carried the reflection of what she had seen him do—the shadows, the soldiers breaking, the impossible power that had poured out of her brother.
Adrian wanted to tell her it was nothing. That he was still the same. But even he wasn't sure anymore.
They followed the dirt road north, the moon their only guide. Adrian's body ached from exhaustion, but stopping wasn't an option.
"Brother," Serenya finally said softly. "Do you think… Varin made it?"
Adrian's chest tightened. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to lie. But he saw the truth in the flames of his memory. Varin had gone to his death so they could escape.
"…He bought us time," Adrian said quietly. "We have to honor that. By living."
Serenya lowered her gaze, silent.
The road turned, leading to a clearing. There, a small fire flickered in the distance. Shadows of figures moved around it—travelers, perhaps.
Adrian hesitated. Strangers could mean safety. Or danger.
Before he could decide, a sharp voice called out.
"Stop right there!"
A tall man stepped into view, crossbow raised. His cloak was patched, his beard unkempt. Beside him, two others emerged—a woman with a curved dagger, and a younger boy carrying supplies.
Bandits. Or refugees. It was hard to tell.
The woman eyed Adrian and Serenya. "Look at this. A boy and a girl wandering the roads at night? Either you're lost… or running from something."
Adrian's hand instinctively went to his side, though he carried no blade. His pulse quickened.
The man with the crossbow narrowed his eyes. "Names. Now."
Adrian clenched his jaw. If he gave their true name—Kaelthorne—it would doom them instantly.
"We're… travelers," he said carefully. "Heading north."
The boy with the supplies frowned. "They look half-dead. Maybe we should help them?"
The woman scoffed. "Help them? Or sell them to the soldiers for a pouch of gold?"
Serenya stiffened, clutching Adrian's sleeve tighter.
The crossbowman lowered his weapon slightly, but his gaze was still sharp. "You don't walk these roads at night unless you're desperate. So tell me… what are you hiding?"
Adrian's mind raced. He couldn't reveal the truth—but he couldn't show weakness either. And deep inside, the void stirred again, whispering for release.
"Brother…" Serenya whispered, sensing his tension.
The air grew heavier as silence stretched. Then—
Rustling. From the trees behind.
A new group appeared—armored soldiers, their armor marked with the crimson crest of Valmyria. Torchlight spilled across the clearing, and the soldiers raised their blades.
"There they are!" one shouted. "Seize the fugitives!"
Adrian's blood ran cold.
The strangers froze, caught between sides. The crossbowman cursed under his breath. The woman drew her dagger.
Adrian grabbed Serenya's hand. His voice was low, firm.
"Stay behind me."
The void stirred once more, shadows gathering at his fingertips as the soldiers closed in.
The night was about to explode.