"A curse is not only a burden—it is a promise the darkness makes to claim you, piece by piece."
The fog had thickened into a suffocating shroud. Even the campfire's glow seemed swallowed whole, leaving Kael and Elara in a bubble of light surrounded by endless gray.
Kael's hand rested on the hilt of his cursed blade, the hum beneath his skin louder than before. His gray eyes flicked constantly to the treeline, searching for shapes, for movement. The scar across his jaw throbbed, a dull ache that warned of the blade's hunger.
Beside him, Elara adjusted her satchel, her chestnut hair unbraided now and wild around her freckled face. She looked weary, but her green eyes still burned with a sharp, restless light.
"This forest doesn't want us here," she said quietly.
Kael grunted. "Then we leave."
She arched a brow. "Just like that?"
"Why stay where the ground itself is cursed?"
Elara's lips curved into that stubborn smirk of hers. "Because the most valuable truths are always hidden where people are too afraid to look."
Kael shook his head, though he almost smiled at her audacity. Almost.
They pressed on through the mist, the ground beneath them soft and damp. Every sound seemed louder than it should have been—the crunch of Elara's boots, the soft rasp of Kael's breathing, the faint hum of the cursed blade.
The whispers started again.
They are watching. They are hungry. They will break her first. And then you.
Kael tightened his grip on the hilt. He had learned not to answer the voices, but every step made the weight of the sword heavier. His silver-streaked hair clung damply to his forehead as if the forest itself pressed down on him.
Elara glanced at him, sharp as ever. "It's the blade, isn't it? It speaks to you."
Kael's jaw flexed. "It doesn't speak. It lies."
"And you listen anyway," she countered softly.
Her words struck too close. He didn't respond.
The attack came without warning.
A screech ripped through the fog, high and piercing. The ground shook beneath them as something massive moved between the trees. Kael shoved Elara back instinctively just as a shape the size of a house lunged into view.
It was no hound or knight. This creature was worse—an amalgamation of shadow and bone, a wraith-born abomination with a skull-like head and too many limbs, each one tipped with claws that gouged the earth.
Elara's breath caught. "Ancestors…"
Kael drew the cursed blade in one swift motion, its dark light flaring hungrily. "Stay behind me."
The abomination roared, charging.
Kael met it head-on, his blade clashing against its claws with a sound like screaming metal. The impact rattled his bones. He spun, struck, his strikes precise and lethal—but the beast didn't fall. Shadows reformed where he cut, knitting back together.
"Elara!" he barked.
She was already moving. Her hands slammed her crystal into the dirt, runes flaring bright beneath them. A barrier shimmered, forcing the creature to recoil for a breath, but it only enraged it further.
The abomination lunged again, claws tearing at the barrier. Elara's face twisted in strain, sweat beading along her temple. "I can't hold it forever!"
Kael snarled, driving his blade deep into the creature's side. The sword screamed in his hand, its whispers surging.
Yes! Feed on it! Tear until nothing remains!
Kael's vision darkened at the edges. His breath came ragged, his scar searing as if molten iron burned beneath his skin. He slashed again and again, faster, harder, each strike wilder than the last. The creature shrieked as shadow spilled like blood, but Kael barely saw it.
All he saw was red. All he heard was the blade's hunger.
More. More. MORE!
"Kael!"
Her voice again. Strong, sharp, cutting through the madness.
His eyes snapped to Elara. She was on her knees, barrier faltering, her emerald gaze locked onto him with desperation and fury. "Don't you dare lose yourself now!"
The world slammed back into focus. The abomination roared, claws descending toward her.
Kael moved.
With a final, defiant roar, he drove the cursed blade upward, channeling every ounce of control he had left. Dark energy surged, exploding through the creature's chest. Shadows screamed and dissolved, the abomination collapsing into mist that shredded apart in the wind.
Silence fell.
Kael staggered, the blade slipping from his hand, pulsing on the ground like a living heart. His breath tore ragged from his lungs, scar burning, silver streak gleaming like fire in the dim light.
Elara crawled to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her touch was steady despite her exhaustion. "You were slipping," she said softly.
Kael's gray eyes met hers, haunted. "I know."
She studied him, her chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. Then, quietly, she added, "If you fall, I'm not letting that blade take you. Do you understand?"
Something tightened in Kael's chest—anger, fear, maybe even a flicker of something dangerously close to trust. He forced himself to nod.
They rested only when the fog began to thin, giving way to the faint outline of stone in the distance. Towers rose like jagged teeth against the horizon, their black shapes piercing the night sky.
Elara followed his gaze, emerald eyes glinting. "Ebonreach," she breathed, half in awe, half in dread.
Kael's hand hovered near his blade, still sheathed, still humming softly. He had survived the Ashenwood. Barely.
But as he looked at the distant city rising from the mists, he knew the forest had only been a prelude.
The true trial was just beginning.