The world looked different after blood had stained my hands.
The road no longer seemed wide and free. It was narrower, the trees darker, every shadow stretching too long. I walked with my knife in hand, always glancing over my shoulder, listening for footsteps that weren't there.
But even in fear, a fire burned in me now. The bandits hadn't killed me. Fate hadn't claimed me. For once, my survival hadn't been because I didn't care — but because I did.
That thought carried me for two days.
On the third, I began to notice the signs.
The first was small: a line of stones arranged across the path, forming a half-circle. At first I thought it was chance, until I remembered the way the Stonekeepers had arranged runes in the dust near the monolith.
The second came that night. I dreamed of the stone again, but this time when I woke, the ground around my campfire was etched with faint lines in the dirt, like claws had dragged across it.
The third was the whisper.
As I crossed a shallow stream at dusk, a voice curled through the trees, low and sibilant. "Darian…"
I froze, knife drawn, heart hammering. "Who's there?"
No answer — only silence. But when I turned, I caught a flicker of movement between the trees. A shadow, taller than any man, gliding without sound.
My blood turned to ice.
I ran.
Branches whipped against my face, the ground uneven beneath my boots, but I didn't stop. The shadow followed, moving faster than it should, gliding, hunting.
I stumbled into a clearing, chest burning. The thing slipped from the trees, black as smoke, its face a hollow void where eyes should have been. Runes crawled faintly across its chest, glowing like dying embers.
It was no bandit. No man at all.
The air grew heavy, pressing on my lungs. The creature's whisper seeped into my skull. You cannot escape. The stone calls you back.
My knife shook in my grip. "Stay away!"
The shade surged forward, faster than thought. I slashed wildly, but the blade passed through smoke. Claws like jagged bone reached for me.
Panic seized me. My heel caught on a root, and I fell hard. The shadow loomed above, claws descending—
Steel rang.
A blade swept through the air, cutting the shadow clean in half. It shrieked, a sound like stone grinding on stone, and dissolved into ash.
I blinked, breath ragged, staring at the figure who now stood between me and death.
It was a woman. Tall, cloaked in travel-worn leathers, a longsword gleaming in her hands. Her hair was dark, her eyes sharper than the edge of her blade.
She glanced at me once, then at the scattering ash. "You draw strange company, boy."
I struggled to sit up, still trembling. "What… what was that?"
"A hunter," she said grimly, sheathing her sword. "The kind sent by those who want you alive — or dead. Judging by the mark it carried, I'd say Stonekeepers."
My heart lurched. "They know?"
She gave a small, humorless smile. "You don't run from destiny without it chasing back."
We sat by my dying fire that night. I stole glances at her, still half-afraid she'd vanish like the shadow.
"Who are you?" I asked at last.
"Kaelen," she said simply. "A wanderer. I've crossed paths with the Stonekeepers before."
"And lived?"
Her smile sharpened. "Barely."
Silence settled, broken only by the crackle of fire. At last, she looked at me. "Why are they chasing you?"
I hesitated. Should I tell her? The truth seemed heavy on my tongue, too unbelievable. But her gaze was steady, patient.
"My fate is carved in stone," I admitted. "Twenty-five years. The lines vanish one by one, and when the last is gone… so am I. But I don't want to die. Not anymore. I'm looking for the Inkstone."
Her brow furrowed. "The Inkstone?"
"You've heard of it?"
She looked into the fire, her expression unreadable. "Legends, rumors. A relic that rewrites the will of gods themselves. Dangerous words, boy. Dangerous to chase."
"Maybe," I said, surprising myself with the strength in my voice. "But I'd rather chase danger than wait for death."
For a long moment, she studied me. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Then perhaps," Kaelen said, "our paths run together. For now."
That night, I did not dream of the stone.
But when I woke, the memory of the shadow's whisper lingered, cold as frost in my ears.
You cannot escape.
I glanced at Kaelen, already awake, sharpening her blade. For the first time, I felt a sliver of hope. Maybe I couldn't escape alone.
But maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to.