The horns split the air again, their notes reverberating through the trees like a call to every lurking predator. Birds burst from the canopy in frenzied flocks, and the ground itself seemed to tremble.
Isolde stumbled as roots snagged her boots, but Kael caught her arm, steadying her without breaking pace. His grip was firm, his breath measured despite the run. He moved with the confidence of one who had trained his whole life for battle, yet even he cast wary glances at the shadows between the trunks.
"They'll track us by the hounds," Isolde panted. "There's nowhere safe."
"There's one place," Kael said, his voice low.
She looked at him sharply. "Where?"
He didn't answer. His eyes flicked ahead, toward the deeper heart of the Silverwood—a place villagers warned children never to wander. Even in daylight, the forest grew strange there. Too quiet. Too old.
Behind them, the baying of hounds drew closer. The soldiers shouted, torches blazing like angry stars through the trees.
Kael quickened his stride, pulling her along. "Trust me."
The path narrowed, roots twisting like bones beneath the soil. Moonlight slanted through the canopy though the sun had not yet set, casting the forest in a silvery glow. The air changed—thicker, colder, filled with the faint hum of something alive and ancient.
Isolde shivered. "This is no ordinary place."
Kael slowed, finally speaking. "The Eye of the Eagle. My ancestors built shrines here, long before the palace walls rose. They said it was a place where the veil between light and shadow thins."
Her heart thudded. She had heard of it, spoken only in whispers: a sacred place, forbidden to common folk, guarded by superstition and silence.
Before she could reply, a howl cut through the night—closer now, almost upon them. The hounds had found the trail.
Kael drew his sword, the steel flashing pale in the moon's strange glow. "Keep moving. I'll hold them."
"No!" Isolde grabbed his arm, fear surging hot in her chest. "If you fight here, they'll kill you. I won't let you throw your life away."
"I swore I wouldn't let them take you," he said, his voice fierce but steady. "That is not a vow I break."
Before she could argue, the first hound burst from the undergrowth. Its eyes glowed red, its jaws snapping with a hunger beyond nature. Kael struck, steel against flesh, cutting it down in a spray of shadowed blood. Another followed, then another, soldiers crashing through the trees behind them.
Isolde's hands trembled—but not with fear. With power. The same golden fire that had once nearly betrayed her surged now, demanding release.
She pressed her palms to the earth. Light rippled outward, veins of gold racing through the soil. The roots shuddered, then sprang to life, twisting upward to ensnare the soldiers' legs. The hounds yelped, snapping at the sudden barrier of living wood.
The men cursed, fighting to break free. Kael's eyes widened at the sight of her, but there was no time for words.
From deeper in the forest, a new sound rose—low, resonant, like the breath of the earth itself. The trees groaned. The air thickened.
Something ancient had heard the Silverwood's cry.
And it was waking.