The forest outside Eloria was not kind to fugitives.
Branches lashed at Serenyx's face as she ducked beneath low boughs, Lytheris yanking her along as though sheer willpower could outpace trained hunters. Behind them, the shouts of the Shadow Sect soldiers cut through the undergrowth, too close for comfort.
"Left!" Lytheris hissed, dragging her toward a deer path. "Keep your head down!"
Serenyx stumbled, her boot catching on a root. She bit back a curse, heart thundering in her chest. The whispers in the sky had returned; urgent, frantic, pushing against her ribs like they wanted to break free.
Not now, she thought desperately. If I light up, they'll see me for sure.
They darted past a stream, splashing water onto their already muddied clothes. Serenyx risked a glance back and spotted two armored figures breaking through the treeline. One raised a crossbow. Her breath caught...
And then the wind moved.
A sudden gust tore through the forest, snapping branches, slamming against the soldiers. The arrow fired wide, thunking uselessly into bark. Serenyx didn't question it. She ran harder.
By the time they collapsed behind a ridge, both were gasping. Lytheris scanned the woods, his hand on the dagger strapped beneath his coat. Serenyx pressed her palms against the earth, willing the whispers in her chest to quiet down.
"They know," Lytheris said finally. His voice was raw. "They're hunting you."
Serenyx managed a shaky laugh. "Me? I'm just your average village girl. Average girls don't get posters, right?"
Lytheris shot her a look that could have pierced stone. "Don't joke."
The sound of hooves interrupted them. Both froze. Down the narrow forest road, a single rider appeared, cloaked in dark green. His horse was a midnight stallion, muscles coiled with restless energy. The rider's posture was straight, disciplined, every movement precise.
Serenyx's stomach twisted. Whoever this stranger was, he wasn't a villager. He wasn't even ordinary.
The rider reined his horse to a stop and surveyed the ridge with cold, assessing eyes. Then, without warning, he swung down. The hood slipped just enough to reveal a face; sharp lines, storm-gray eyes, and a scar etched along his jaw.
Lytheris stiffened beside her. "Kaelthorn."
The name dropped like a stone between them.
Serenyx squinted at the newcomer. "Do we… know him?"
"Prince Kaelthorn of Aravelle," Lytheris said under his breath. "Warrior of the northern clans. They say he can fight ten men and leave none standing."
Serenyx tilted her head. "Well, that's dramatic. He looks like the type who broods at sunsets and terrifies children."
"Serenyx." Lytheris' tone was a warning.
But Kaelthorn was already striding toward them, his boots crunching over the leaves. His gaze flicked from Lytheris to Serenyx, then to the scorch mark still faintly glowing on her sleeve. His jaw tightened.
"You," he said, voice low but commanding. "You touched it."
Serenyx blinked. "Touched… what?"
"The feather."
Her heart skipped. She opened her mouth, scrambling for denial, but Kaelthorn's eyes pinned her in place. They were the kind of eyes that stripped lies down to bone.
"You're mistaken," Lytheris cut in quickly, stepping between them. His hand rested near his dagger, though he had the sense not to draw it. "We don't know what you're talking about."
Kaelthorn's lips curved, not quite a smile, more like recognition of a predictable move. "The Shadow Sect isn't chasing you for nothing. I saw the sky tear this morning. The Phoenix has awakened. And she..." his gaze slid to Serenyx again, heavy, inescapable... "is carrying its mark."
Serenyx lifted her chin, forcing bravado. "Maybe I just attract trouble. It's a talent."
His expression didn't change, though she swore the corner of his mouth twitched. "If that's true, then you're about to need more than talent."
From the trees came the metallic rhythm of marching feet. Dozens. The soldiers were regrouping, closing in.
Kaelthorn turned, unsheathing the blade strapped across his back, a curved steel weapon etched with runes that shimmered faintly in the half-light. He planted himself between them and the advancing shadows.
"Stay behind me."
Serenyx crossed her arms. "Excuse me? I don't take orders from strangers."
"Then die in front of me," Kaelthorn said flatly, shifting into stance.
Lytheris groaned. "Serenyx, please. For once listen."
The first wave of soldiers burst through the treeline, blades drawn. Kaelthorn moved like a storm given flesh, swift, precise, merciless. His sword cut arcs of silver in the dim forest, each strike disarming or dropping an opponent before they could recover.
Serenyx watched with a mix of awe and annoyance. Show-off.
But when a second group circled from behind, she panicked. Her hand shot out instinctively, palm blazing with sudden heat. The whispers in her chest roared free, and before she could stop it, a ripple of fire erupted across the ground.
The soldiers stumbled back, shouting, as flames coiled upward in a ring around her. Serenyx gasped, clutching her chest. The blaze had answered her, wild, alive, hungry.
Kaelthorn turned sharply, his eyes flashing at the sight. For the first time, his composure slipped.
"It's true," he murmured, as though confirming a suspicion. "You really are the Vessel."
Lytheris grabbed Serenyx's arm, shaking her. "What did you do?!"
"I...I didn't mean to!" she stammered, the fire shrinking as quickly as it had come. Ash floated in the air, settling on her shoulders like feathers.
The soldiers hesitated, fear flickering in their eyes. But their leader barked an order, and they steadied, circling again.
Kaelthorn raised his blade, voice cutting through the chaos. "Run. Both of you."
Serenyx bristled. "You can't fight them all..."
He shot her a look that silenced her mid-sentence. "I said run."
And for the first time in her life, Serenyx found herself obeying a stranger.
She grabbed Lytheris' hand and bolted into the shadows of the forest, the whispers of the sky chasing after her like wings unfurled.