The Grove had not released him easily. When Kael and Serenya stepped from the circle of woven trees, the hush of ancient whispers followed like phantom breath at his neck. The pool's glow still burned behind his eyes, its reflection of the shadow-crowned figure lingering in his mind. He had refused it then, but the refusal had cost him—his body was weak, his veins still burning with the curse's simmer.
The Ashwood did not welcome his return to its wider paths. The air shifted as they moved, damp earth scents thickening until each breath felt clotted with rot. Trees leaned closer, branches intertwining, closing off slivers of sky until it felt as though the forest wished to cage them in.
Kael stumbled more than once, catching himself against trunks that throbbed faintly under his hands. He hated how his body betrayed him, how the curse stirred like a starving animal in his chest, whispering: Feed. Yield. Let me take the burden.
He pushed it down each time, jaw locked, sweat slicking his brow. Serenya said nothing of his struggle, though he caught the way her eyes darted to him when she thought he wasn't looking. She walked ahead with her bow ready, moving silent as a shadow. He both resented and relied on that steadiness.
"You lead me into a prison," he muttered once, when the path narrowed into a corridor of thorns taller than a man. "The forest bends to you. It bends to me only to break me."
Serenya didn't turn. Her voice drifted back, quiet but firm. "The Ashwood bends to no one. Not me, not you. It tests. Always."
"And if I fail?"
"Then it will devour you." She said it without cruelty. Without comfort either. Just truth.
Kael grimaced, pressing forward.
The thorned corridor wound deeper, the air growing colder, heavier. His chest tightened with each step. He felt eyes on him—not Serenya's, not beasts', but the forest itself. The curse within him strained toward it, eager to claim the power threaded through the trees.
All yours, it crooned. Just reach. Just take.
He bit his tongue until blood filled his mouth. The taste grounded him, though the whispers only laughed.
The thorns rustled suddenly. Kael stopped, hand instinctively on the hilt of his blade. Serenya lifted her bow in the same heartbeat.
"Something's here," Kael said.
"Not something," she corrected. "Many."
The first emerged like a shadow given form: a stag, antlers twisted into jagged barbs, eyes burning ember-red. Its flesh sagged in places, crawling with black veins. Behind it, more stirred—wolves with too many teeth, birds with wings that dripped shadow, a boar with tusks cracked and bleeding. Corruption had touched them all.
And every one of their eyes locked on Kael.
The curse inside him thrilled, hungry recognition flaring. Kael staggered, clutching his chest. "They—" His voice broke on a growl. "They feel it."
Serenya's bowstring thrummed. Her arrow took the stag clean through its corrupted eye. It fell, dissolving into smoke—but the others did not falter.
They charged.
The fight was chaos.
A wolf lunged, jaws wide. Kael's blade met it in a spray of shadow-stained ichor. Another snapped at his side, and he barely turned in time, curse lending strength to his swing that nearly cleaved the creature in half. He roared, the sound guttural, too raw, too much like the beasts themselves.
The curse surged with each strike, flooding his veins with power. His movements grew faster, sharper, less his own. Shadows curled at his fingertips when he grasped his sword.
"Kael!" Serenya's voice cut through, sharp as steel. "Hold yourself!"
He couldn't. Not fully. The curse exulted, demanding he let go, that he drink deep of this slaughter. His vision tinged red, each enemy a vessel to be torn apart. For one breathless moment, he almost gave in.
A wolf slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. Its jaws clamped toward his throat. He caught it with both hands, straining as its teeth scraped his skin. Shadows coiled from his palms, searing into its flesh. The wolf shrieked as it dissolved into black smoke, leaving Kael trembling, his hands smoking with power.
He looked up, chest heaving. Serenya's gaze found him across the fray—bow in hand, eyes fierce but wide. Not with fear. With warning. With demand.
"Kael!" she shouted again. "Stay with me!"
Her voice was an anchor. He forced breath into his lungs, forced the curse back an inch, then another. His sword felt heavier now, but real, solid in his grasp. He swung again, this time himself, not the thing within him.
The battle raged. Together, they carved through the corrupted beasts. Serenya's arrows flew with unerring precision, each shot a clean death. Kael's blade cut through shadow and flesh alike, curse snarling but leashed, if barely.
At last, the final creature—a hulking boar with tusks like swords—collapsed under their combined strike. Its shadow dissolved into the earth, leaving silence broken only by Kael's ragged breaths.
Kael staggered, sinking to his knees. His hands shook. His veins still burned, his heart racing too fast. He pressed a hand to the earth, grounding himself, but it pulsed beneath him, reminding him of all that still called to the curse.
Serenya stood over him, bow lowered. Her chest rose and fell, sweat gleaming at her temple. She didn't speak at once, only studied him—no longer as hunter to prey, but something sharper, more complicated.
"You nearly lost yourself," she said finally.
Kael lifted his head, meeting her gaze. His voice was hoarse. "I didn't."
Her lips pressed tight, but she didn't argue. She extended her hand.
Kael hesitated. The curse inside him recoiled and reached all at once. But he grasped her hand. Her grip was firm, steady, pulling him back to his feet.
For a moment, they stood too close. Her breath brushed his cheek, his hand lingered in hers. His curse screamed at the contact, but for once, Kael felt steadier for it.
Something unspoken passed between them before she pulled away.
They walked on, silence stretching between them. Kael's body ached, but his mind turned over the battle again and again—the curse's thrill, Serenya's grounding voice, the way her eyes had looked into him as if she refused to let him go.
He swallowed hard, glancing at her as she walked ahead. Her bow was slung across her back now, her movements precise but slower, exhaustion tugging at her. Yet her presence filled the space around them, a steady light in the oppressive dark of the Ashwood.
Kael clenched his fists. He couldn't afford distraction. Not with the curse clawing at him, not with Lyra surely hunting him still. And yet…
The forest whispered again, voices threading through the branches. This time he almost swore they laughed.
When they stopped to rest, Serenya spoke little. Kael sat apart, back to a tree, trying to steady his breath. His eyes drifted shut, only for images to claw their way in—Lyra's golden eyes burning with judgment, Serenya's green eyes burning with something else. The curse stirred, twisting both into one.
He jolted awake, sweat slicking his skin. Serenya watched him silently, her expression unreadable.
"You saw something," she said.
Kael shook his head. "Just the curse."
She didn't press. Instead, she turned her gaze to the forest, voice low. "You can't keep holding it back forever."
"I can try," Kael said.
Her eyes flicked back to him, softer now. "Then try harder."
He almost smiled at the contradiction—her demand sharp, her tone almost gentle.
Later, when they rose to move again, Kael felt it before he saw it: a pull, faint but insistent, tugging at the edges of his awareness. Familiar. Terrifying.
Lyra.
He froze mid-step, every muscle tight. Serenya glanced back, brow furrowing. "What is it?"
Kael shook his head slowly, gaze fixed on the dark between the trees. "They're coming."
Her jaw clenched, hand drifting toward her bow.
The curse inside him thrilled at the thought of Lyra's nearness, whispering promises Kael dared not listen to. He forced a breath, eyes closing.
The path ahead grew darker. Thorned. Waiting.