Five years had passed since the Trial of Spartacus. The arena scars had long healed, but the memory of Atreus' clever victory still lingered among the people. Those who once mocked him—Cassian, Taren, and Marcellus—no longer saw him as weak. They sparred with him, trained with him, and though rivalry remained, it was now sharpened with respect rather than scorn. The boy who was once a target of ridicule had become a man they trusted in battle.
Yet beyond Spartacus, danger stirred.
In the cursed land where towers of obsidian clawed at the sky, Kaelen stood before a mirror of living shadow, its surface rippling with visions of Atreus moving through the forest with spear in hand.
Kaelen's voice was low, almost reverent.
"The boy has shed the skin of childhood… and become dangerous. Not with bulk, but with the mind of a predator." His gloved hand brushed the mirror's surface, leaving ripples across its dark reflection. "Perfect."
The shadow-lieutenants hissed behind him, their twisted forms shifting restlessly. One leaned forward, voice jagged as stone grinding against stone.
"The boy hunts as if he knows he is hunted."
Kaelen chuckled softly, a sound without warmth.
"Let him think he's clever. Every fox that survives too long grows bold… and boldness makes them predictable."
The mirror revealed another figure—Ata—leaning on his cane at the edge of the forest, watching Atreus train. Kaelen's eyes narrowed.
"The old one is always there," he muttered. "Always watching, always near. Stones do not last forever. Even they crack beneath shadow."
The lieutenants bowed low and dissolved into the earth, as if swallowed by the very darkness that birthed them.
---
In Spartacus, Atreus trained tirelessly. The forest had become his second home—its roots, rocks, and streams as much a teacher as Ata himself. Cassian often sparred with him now, their weapons clashing like thunder.
"You've grown sharper," Cassian grunted after Atreus sidestepped his strike and countered with precision.
"I had to," Atreus replied, steady. "I can't rely on strength. Not like you."
Marcellus, wiping sweat from his brow, smirked. "Not strength, but wits. That's what makes him dangerous. Even I'd follow him in battle."
Selene, who often lingered at the edges of their training grounds, watched with pride. But her gaze frequently drifted—not at Atreus, but at Ata. She noticed how the elder's eyes sometimes lingered too long, how his presence always shadowed Atreus, even when there was no lesson to give.
One evening, she approached Atreus as he cooled down by the stream.
"Atreus," she said softly, "don't you ever wonder why Ata is always there? Watching? Even when you're not training?"
Atreus looked up, confused but calm. "He's my mentor. He's the only one who believed in me when no one else did. He's always been there… why question that?"
Selene bit her lip, hesitant. "Because sometimes it feels… different. Not guidance. Something else. I can't explain it, but it feels… off."
Atreus shook his head, though his tone was gentle. "You've been good to me, Selene. But Ata has been like… the father mine never was. I trust him."
Her frown lingered, but she said no more.
---
That very night, Atreus sensed movement in the forest. The rustle was too precise, too deliberate to be mere animals. Shadows flickered between the trees, darker than the night itself. He gripped his spear, motioning for his companions to stay alert.
"They're circling us," Atreus whispered.
The shadows lunged. Black-clad soldiers, their movements unnatural, surged forward. Cassian swung his blade, Marcellus hurled a rock, and Atreus led them with sharp commands.
"Drive them into the choke point! Now!"
Selene shouted from higher ground. "Atreus! To your left—two more!"
Atreus spun, striking one through the chest. The shadow dissipated like smoke. Another lunged, slashing his arm. Pain flared, but he pressed on. Using fallen logs and hidden pits, Atreus trapped three of them, their bodies collapsing into misty fragments.
By dawn, the last of the shadows melted back into the treeline, vanishing as if they had never been.
Breathless, Cassian muttered, "What in the gods' names were those things?"
Marcellus swallowed hard. "Not men… not beasts either."
Selene, her eyes wide, looked at Atreus. "Something is hunting you. This wasn't chance."
Atreus held his bleeding arm and glanced toward the treeline. There, for the briefest moment, he thought he saw Ata's silhouette—still, unmoving, watching. But when he blinked, the old man was gone.
---
Far away, in the cursed land, Kaelen's lips curled into a smile as he gazed into his mirror once more.
"Yes… clever indeed. Let the fox sharpen his teeth. When the time comes, I will be waiting."
And the shadows whispered around him like a promise of war.