Chapter 11: The Shadow in the Market
Kael's POV
The world is too loud. Too bright.
After the muffled silence of the mountain and the stark monochrome of snow and stone, the border town of Oakhaven is an assault on my senses. The air is thick with the smells of roasting meat, unwashed bodies, and animal dung. The cobblestone streets teem with people laughing, shouting, haggling. A cart rattles past, its wooden wheels screeching, and I flinch, my heart hammering.
Fenra, pressed close to my leg, lets out a low growl, her ears flat against her head. She feels it too. The overwhelming muchness of it all.
"Keep your head down," Seraphine murmurs, her hand a firm pressure on my back, guiding me through the crowd. She'd made me pull my hood up, hiding my distinctive silver hair. "Don't make eye contact. And for the throne's sake, try to look like you belong here."
Belong. I feel like a ghost, transparent and out of place. These people's lives are so normal. A woman scolds her child for chasing a chicken. Two men argue over the price of a wagon wheel. They have no idea that the last heir of the Astral Throne is walking among them, that the world balance hangs by a thread woven with my mother's sacrifice.
The Core is buzzing, not with memories, but with a low-level panic. It's absorbing the chaos, the fragments of a hundred different lives, and it's overwhelming. I catch a flash of a farmer's worry about his crops, a merchant's greed, a young couple's secret joy. It's a cacophony of human emotion, and I have no shield against it.
"We need information," Seraphine says, steering me toward the bustling town square, where a market is in full swing. "And supplies. We can't go to Thorne empty-handed and half-starved."
The sight and smell of food make my stomach clench with a painful hunger. A baker is selling fresh, golden-brown rolls. My mouth waters. I haven't had bread since... since the sanctuary.
Seraphine follows my gaze. "Later. Information first."
She finds a stall selling dried meats and herbs, engaging the vendor in a casual conversation about the best routes to the central Riverlands. I try to listen, but my attention is pulled elsewhere. To a group of men standing near the town well.
They aren't dressed like farmers or merchants. Their clothes are dark, practical, and they wear their weapons with a casual familiarity that screams danger. One of them, a man with a scar cutting through his eyebrow, scans the crowd with a cold, assessing gaze. His eyes slide over me, and for a second, I feel a chill that has nothing to do with the weather.
Lunaris.
The Core hums a sharp warning. I don't need it. The memory of their warship, the sound of their assault on the sanctuary, is etched into my soul.
I tug on Seraphine's sleeve. She doesn't look at me, but her body goes still. She's seen them too.
"The roads are safe enough," the vendor is saying, "if you stick to the main trade routes. Though folks say there's been strange activity near the old quarry. Beast sightings, they claim. Nasty business."
"The quarry?" Seraphine asks, her voice light, disinterested.
"Aye. Place has been abandoned for years. No one goes there. 'Cept for old Thorne, the crazy mason who lives up there. Says he's guarding the place." The vendor snorts. "Guarding rubble, more like."
My heart leaps. Thorne. The quarry.
Seraphine thanks the man and buys a small bundle of dried meat, her movements calm and deliberate. But as she turns away, I see the tension in her shoulders.
"We need to go. Now," she says under her breath, her grip on my arm tightening.
We move quickly, ducking into a narrow alley between two buildings. The relative quiet is a relief.
"They're here," I whisper, my voice shaking. "They'll find us."
"They're looking for a silver-haired boy traveling with a Lunaris operative," she says, her mind racing. "They're not looking for a dirty-faced farm kid and his sister." She looks at Fenra. "We need to split up. It's less conspicuous. I'll get the rest of the supplies. You take Fenra and wait at the edge of town, by the old mill. Do you remember the way?"
I nod, my throat tight. The thought of being alone in this crowded, hostile place is terrifying.
"Kael." She meets my eyes, her gaze intense. "You can do this. You navigated a mountain. You can navigate a town. Just be small. Be invisible."
She melts back into the crowd, and suddenly, I am alone. Truly alone, surrounded by a sea of strangers.
I pull my hood lower and start walking, keeping my head down, Fenra a reassuring shadow at my side. Every laugh feels like a threat. Every glance in my direction feels like a accusation. I feel the Lunaris scout's eyes on me, even though I know he can't see me.
The Core continues its frantic buzzing, feeding me snippets of fear and suspicion from the people around me. It's a torrent I can't control. I feel a shopkeeper's anxiety about a loan, a young girl's secret shame, a guard's boredom and resentment. It's too much. My head begins to pound, a sharp, stabbing pain behind my eyes.
I am Kael Vireon. The memory is past. I am here.
The mantra is a desperate prayer. I focus on my feet. One step. Then another. The mill. Just get to the mill.
I'm almost there. I can see the rotting wooden structure ahead, the slow-turning water wheel. A wave of relief washes over me.
And then I feel it. A different kind of attention. Not the casual glance of a townsfolk, but a focused, predatory interest.
I risk a glance over my shoulder.
The Lunaris scout with the scar is standing at the mouth of the alley I just left. He's not looking at the crowd. He's looking directly at me. At Fenra.
He's seen through the disguise.
Our eyes meet for a fraction of a second. His widen in recognition, then narrow with cold intent.
He takes a step forward.
My blood runs cold. I break into a run, Fenra lunging ahead of me, a silent grey streak.
"Hey! You! Stop!"
His shout cuts through the market noise. Heads turn.
I don't look back. I run, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. The mill, the trees beyond, they're so close.
I can hear his footsteps pounding behind me, gaining. He's faster. He's an adult, a trained warrior.
I dart around the corner of the mill, scrambling down the muddy bank toward the river, my only thought to get away, to hide.
A hand closes on the back of my hood, yanking me backward. I stumble, falling hard onto the muddy ground. I look up into the scarred face of the Lunaris scout, his lips pulled back in a triumphant sneer.
"The Cult will reward me handsomely for you, little prince," he breathes, his hand reaching for me.
In that moment, the cacophony in my head, the pounding fear, the overwhelming flood of foreign emotions, it all condenses into a single, sharp point of terror.
And the Echo Core answers.
Not with a memory.
But with an instinct.
YOUR SUPPORT IS THEIR LIFELINE!
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What's Next:
A desperate fight for survival, and a shocking intervention that will change the course of their quest.
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