Raiking halted.
His crimson eyes met Ezmelral's—hers blazing with a fire that sought to scour the truth from his very soul. But he offered no words, no solace. He simply turned and pressed onward along the shadowed path, his voice drifting back like a cold wind.
"If you halt me now, the agony tearing at you... others will endure it soon enough."
Ezmelral's breath caught. Others?
Confusion swirled in her mind. As an aspiring swordsman, she had devoured every book on beasts—drakes, wraiths, titans. But the gray-skinned horrors that had hollowed out her neighbors? Nothing in the pages matched that nightmare.
She cast one last, heart-wrenching look at her village. Flames devoured the rooftops, casting an infernal glow over empty streets. The air choked on the scent of smoke and loss.
Will more places end like this?
The weight of it pressed on her chest, but it only hardened her resolve. She lowered her arms just as Raiking brushed past, his cloak whispering in the wind. She couldn't let him vanish—not when the void in her heart screamed for answers.
Why them?
One final vow burned in her mind: she would return only when she unraveled the cruel purpose behind their deaths. Clenching her fists, she spun on her heel and chased after him, her small footsteps pounding the earth in a defiant rhythm.
For an entire day, they trekked without pause.
They moved through dense forests where branches clawed like fingers and over rugged mountains that scraped the sky. No rest. No food. No water. Exhaustion gnawed at her, but she refused to yield.
One day bled into the next. The journey stretched like an endless thread through valleys and ridges with no destination in sight.
Where are we even going?
Questions piled up like storm clouds, but every time she voiced one, his replies were cryptic. "Knowing won't change the tides," he'd say. "The solace you chase will only birth a deeper thirst."
Frustrated, she fell silent. She decided on a slower siege: she would unravel him bit by bit.
Deep in a whispering forest, she broke the quiet. "What's your name?"
"Raiking," he replied, a low rumble that seemed to echo from the trees.
She nodded, committing it to memory. "And those roots of yours... what are they? I've read every Essence book in the village. Fire, Air, Earth, Lightning, Water. Yours... fit none of them."
"My Essence is... special," he said, glancing sidelong at her. "It makes me uniquely suited to confront Praexers."
"Praexers?" The word felt foreign on her tongue.
He nodded toward the horizon, eyes distant. "What you witnessed with your mother—she was once an Exar, like all mortals on this planet. Then she became a Praexer... the evil that festers here."
Praexers. The name settled like a stone in her gut.
Silence reclaimed the space between them. She knew pushing too hard would only build walls. But her immediate torment wasn't curiosity; it was the hollow growl in her stomach. Forty-eight hours without a bite. Her legs dragged, the world blurring at the edges as fatigue clawed deep into her bones.
Meanwhile, in the quiet recesses of Raiking's mind, a voice stirred from the void.
The girl won't survive another night like this, Eidolon noted.
Raiking's mental response was curt. I didn't ask her to follow.
Regardless, Eidolon pressed, you hold the answers she craves. Naturally, she'll trail you—just like she did—
Enough, Raiking cut in sharply. I've told you before—never speak of that person.
Eidolon fell silent for a beat, the mental hush thick as fog. Either way, do not let your hunger to hunt Praexers starve others of their lives.
Raiking offered no reply, his thoughts a sealed vault as the sun dipped low.
---
They stopped abruptly by a serene lake, its surface a glassy mirror reflecting the twilight.
"Why've we stopped?" Ezmelral asked, voice hoarse.
"We're nearing the next village," he replied evenly, kneeling by the water. "Entering caked in blood would only terrify the mortals.
Once I'm cleansed, we carry on."
She blinked. Mortals.
That was the second time he'd used that word. Wasn't he an Exar too? Maybe he fancied himself one of those aloof masters from the tales, detached from the woes of common men.
By the time her thoughts settled, he was already scrubbing the crimson stains from his cloak. Seizing the moment, she scanned the trees. High up, clusters of ripe fruit dangled—taunting her.
Her belly snarled. Just one.
She circled the trunk and began to haul herself up. Inch by inch, she ascended, the prize drawing nearer... until her foot slipped on a patch of moss.
The world tilted. She fell.
In a blur, something rough yet gentle coiled around her waist—a root, twisting from the earth like a living rope. It caught her mid-plunge, lowering her softly to the grass. A fruit tumbled free from the branches, landing neatly in her hands.
She stared at it in disbelief, then glanced at Raiking. He wasn't even looking her way.
A tentative smile tugged at her lips. She took a juicy bite, sweetness exploding on her tongue, and wandered toward the river.
"Thanks," she mumbled through a mouthful.
He didn't look up. "Know your limits."
The smile vanished. Just when I thought he might be kind... still the icy stranger. She huffed and cupped a handful of lake water. But before she could drink, his sheath darted out, blocking her hand.
"Why?" she demanded.
"Use this," he said, extending the empty sheath. "The material purifies the water."
His mixed signals were baffling. "Why are you nice one second and cold the next?" she blurted.
He paused, water dripping from his hands. "I just don't want you dying on my watch."
She bristled. "YOU—"
She bit the rest back. Yelling at the only person who knew what a Praexer even was wouldn't help. She filled the sheath, drank. The water tasted cleaner than anything from the village wells.
The fruit vanished quickly. Warmth returned to her fingers. Exhaustion hit twice as hard.
She slumped back against the grass, telling herself she'd only close her eyes for a moment.
The moment turned black.
---
When she woke, the ground was too far away.
Her world swung with each step. Something dug into her stomach. Boots crunched gravel ahead.
She was over his shoulder.
"What are you doing?!" she yelped, flailing. He let her slip down; she hit the ground in an undignified crouch, cheeks burning.
"How dare you!" she snapped, brushing dirt off her dress. "You could've woken me!"
Raiking looked at her like she'd complained about the weather. "You needed rest. The journey ahead would have broken you."
Before she could decide whether to punch him or argue, voices drifted on the wind—soft laughter, low chatter, clinking crockery.
She turned.
Through the thinning trees stood a town. Modest wooden walls. An open gate. Lanterns glowed along the main road, casting warm light on cobbles and passing villagers.
Children chased each other between doorsteps. Somewhere, bread was baking. A dog barked. Life.
Her chest tightened.
"Will that town…" she began, throat closing around the words. "Will it end up like mine?"
Raiking didn't soften. He just nodded once, grave and unflinching, then walked toward the gate.
He didn't look back.
Ezmelral did.
Back to the forest that hid the ashes of her village. Back to the path she couldn't return to.
Her fingers closed around the wooden bird at her neck.
I won't stop, she promised, stepping after him. Not until I understand why this is happening... and how to end it.
The town's lantern light washed over her as she passed through the gate—warm, fragile, and, if Raiking was right, already doomed.