Kael Draven
On the morning of our third day, we spotted the riders.
Lyra saw them first. We'd been walking for maybe an hour, crossing a particularly exposed stretch of flat ground, when she suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me down behind a cluster of rocks.
"Don't move," she whispered. "Don't even breathe loud."
I followed her gaze out and saw them. Five figures on horseback, perhaps half a mile away, moving in a search pattern across the Wastes. Even from this distance, I could see they were armored and armed. Professional hunters, not random opportunists.
"Temple scouts?" I asked quietly.
"Worse. Bounty hunters." Lyra's voice was tight with tension. "See the red scarves? That's the Crimson Chain. They're a guild. Specialize in tracking runaways and escaped slaves."
I watched them work, impressed despite myself. They moved efficiently, covering ground in a coordinated sweep. These weren't amateurs. They knew what they were doing.
"They're too far away to have seen us," I said. "If we move now, head for that ravine to the east.."
"They have a tracker."
"What?"
Lyra pointed. One of the riders had dismounted and was crouching on the ground, peering at something. "See that? They're following our trail. We left tracks in the ash fields yesterday. They've been following us since then, getting closer."
My mind began to think through my options. We couldn't outrun horses, we can't fight five armed and armored hunters, we can't hide forever because they have our trail and the skills to follow it.
We were trapped.
"There might be a way," I said slowly.
Lyra looked at me. "I'm listening."
"That ravine to the east. If we can reach it before they spot us, we can use the lay of the land. Make them come at us one at a time instead of all at once."
"That's not a plan, that's suicide with extra steps."
"You have a better idea?"
She didn't. After a moment, she shook her head. "Fine. But if we're doing this, we do it smart. We need weapons. Anything we can use."
We searched the area quickly, quietly. The ruins around us provided some options. I found a piece of metal rebar, rusted but solid. Lyra picked up a chunk of broken stone that fit her hand like a crude club. Not much, but better than nothing.
The riders were getting closer. I could hear them now: the sound of hooves on hard ground, the occasional call as they coordinated their search.
"Now," Lyra hissed.
We ran.
The ravine was perhaps three hundred yards away. It felt like three miles. Every step, I expected to hear shouts behind us, the thunder of horses giving chase. But we made it halfway before one of the hunters spotted us.
"There! East side!"
The shout was followed immediately by the sound of galloping horses. No more subtlety, no more careful tracking, pure chase.
We ran harder. My lungs were burning, my legs screaming. This body wasn't built for sprinting, especially not after days of starvation and exposure. But adrenaline pushed me forward, and behind me, I could feel Lyra matching my pace.
The edge of the ravine came into view suddenly-a sharp drop into shadow. We didn't slow down. We just jumped.
The fall was perhaps fifteen feet. I hit the ground hard, rolled, came up dizzy and bruised but intact. Lyra landed beside me, more gracefully, already moving deeper into the ravine.
Above us I heard the horses pull up short at the edge. Voices called out, angry and frustrated.
"They went down!"
"Can the horses make it?
"No. Too steep. We go on foot."
That gave us maybe two minutes. We ran deeper into the ravine, searching for a defensible position. The walls were high here, narrow. Perfect for what I had in mind.
"Here," I said, pointing to a spot where the ravine bent sharply. "We make our stand here."
Lyra didn't argue. She took up position on one side of the bend, her makeshift club ready. I took the other side, my piece of rebar held like a sword. When the hunters came around that corner, they'd be in close quarters. Their armor and weapons would be limited by the narrow space.
It was still a long shot. But it was better odds than facing them in the open.
We waited. Seconds elongated into eternity. I could hear them coming, their boots scratching on stone as they descended into the ravine. Five of them. Five trained killers against two half-starved teenagers armed with trash.
I reached for the shadows. They came easier now, more responsive. I pulled them close, wrapping them around me like a cloak. Not enough to be obvious. Just enough to make me harder to see, harder to focus on. A trick I'd used countless times in my previous life.
Round the corner, the first hunter appeared.
He was big, armored in leather and chain, carrying a sword that looked like it could cut through stone. His eyes scanned the ravine, searching for us. His gaze passed over me twice before actually seeing me.
It was too late by that time.
I struck low, my rebar catching him across the knee. He went down with a cry of pain. Lyra was already moving, her stone club coming down on his sword hand. The weapon clattered away. The hunter tried to rise, but I hit him again, across the temple this time. He went still.
One down, four to go.
The second hunter was smarter. He came around the corner ready, his weapon up, his eyes sharp. He saw us immediately and did not hesitate. He lunged at Lyra, his blade cutting through the air where her head had been a second before.
She danced back, using the narrow space to her advantage. He couldn't get a proper swing in the confined area. His blade scraped against stone walls, slowing him down. Lyra ducked under his next strike and slammed her club into his ribs. His armor took most of the impact, but he staggered.
I came in from the side. My rebar wasn't sharp, but it was heavy. I swung it like a bat at his head. He tried to block, but the angle was wrong. Metal met skull with a sickening crack. He dropped.
Two down, three to go.
But I was already exhausted. That small use of shadow magic had drained me more than the physical fighting. I could feel my vision starting to blur, my hands shaking. I couldn't keep this up much longer.
"Fall back," I said to Lyra. "Deeper into the ravine."
We retreated, putting more distance between us and the entrance. The remaining hunters would be cautious now. They'd seen two of their number go down. They'd approach more carefully.
That caution bought us time, but not much. We needed a new strategy.
"Can you climb?" I asked Lyra, looking up at the ravine walls.
She followed my gaze. "Maybe. Why?
"Get above them. Drop rocks. Create confusion."
She knew in an instant. Without another word, she found a section of wall with sufficient handholds and started climbing. It was dangerous—one slip and she'd fall twenty feet onto stone—but she moved with confidence.
I stayed below, making myself visible. Bait.
A minute later, the other three hunters appeared. Now they moved as one, guns at the ready, scanning for traps. They smiled when they saw me, solitary and waiting, in the ravine.
"Just a boy," one of them said. His voice was rough, amused. "And here I thought we'd have a real fight."
"Where's your friend?" another asked. "The girl with silver hair. There's good money on her head."
I didn't answer. Just stood there, letting them see me as weak. Young. Harmless.
They moved forward, fanning out as wide as the narrow space would allow. They were pros. They weren't going to go in stupid and careless like their friends had.
That was fine. I counted on that.
They were almost in position when Lyra struck. A rock the size of my head came tumbling down from above, catching the lead hunter square in the shoulder. He went down cursing. Another rock followed, then another. The hunters scattered, trying to avoid the falling stones while keeping their weapons ready.
Chaos. Perfect.
I moved while they were distracted. The shadows came with me, making me hard to track. I reached the hunter who'd been hit, the one on the ground clutching his shoulder. His sword was right there. I grabbed it before he could react.
It was heavier than I expected, but the weight felt good. Familiar. This body might be weak, but muscle memory was a powerful thing. My hands found the proper grip automatically. My stance shifted into something the boy Eren had never learned.
The hunter saw the change in me, saw something that made his eyes widen.
"What—"
I didn't let him finish. The sword took him across the throat. Quick. Clean. He died without another sound.
Three down, two to go.
But the rest of the hunters had rallied. They'd determined Lyra's location and shifted positions so she couldn't reach them with rocks. Now they were moving on me, and they weren't smiling anymore.
"You're better than you look, boy," said one of them. He was older than the others, grey in his beard, scars on his face. A veteran. "But you're still just a boy. Drop the sword. Come quietly. We'll make it quick."
I weighed my chances. I was armed now, but exhausted. These two were fresh, experienced, and working together. The smart move would be to run, try to lose them deeper in the ravine.
But something inside me refused. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was the thousand years of conquest and victory that still lived in my memory. Maybe I was just tired of running.
I raised the sword. "Come and take it."
He sighed. "Your funeral, kid."
They came at me en masse, coordinated. One high, one low. A classic pincer move designed to force me into a mistake. In my prime, I would have been able to handle them without breaking a sweat.
Now? Now I was operating on instinct and desperation.
I parried the high strike; just barely. The impact sent shocks through my arms. Too strong. This body couldn't match their strength. I had to be smarter, faster. Use technique over power.
The low strike came at my legs. I jumped, barely clearing the blade. Landed badly, stumbled. The veteran pressed his advantage, his sword coming at my chest. I deflected it by inches, the blade scraping across my ribs. Pain flared, but no deep wound. Not yet.
Lyra fell from the sky, landing on the back of the second hunter. He buckled under her weight, and she was already striking with her club, wild and desperate. That bought me seconds. That was all I needed.
I focused everything I had left into the shadows. They surged around the veteran, wrapping his ankles, making him stumble. Just for a moment. Just long enough.
My sword found his throat.
Four down, one to go.
But that last one had thrown Lyra off and was bringing his weapon around toward her. She was on the ground, defenseless. The blade was falling. I was too far away.
No.
The shadows moved without my conscious command. They rose from the ground, like living things solid and sharp. They caught the hunter mid-strike, wrapping around his arms, his legs, his throat. He screamed once, then the shadows squeezed.
When they let him go, he fell like a puppet with its strings cut.
Five down. All of them.
I dropped the sword. My hands were shaking so hard, I couldn't hold it. My vision swam. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the stone.
Lyra was instantly by my side. "Eren! Eren, stay with me!"
I wanted to tell her I was fine, just exhausted. But the words wouldn't come. The world was getting darker, the shadows closing in from all sides. But this time, they weren't threatening. They felt almost. protective.
I heard Lyra's voice, distant and worried; felt her hands on my shoulders, shaking me. But I couldn't respond.
The last thing I saw before darkness took me was her face, fear written clearly across it.
Then nothing.
Just shadows, and silence, and the distant echo of power I'd once commanded.
I'd made it. We'd made it.
But the cost had been high.
And something told me it would only get higher from here.