The smoke followed them.
Not in the air—Mask made sure of that—but in Kael's thoughts. Every step away from the ruined village felt wrong, like turning his back on something that still breathed behind him.
They did not speak for hours.
The forest thickened as they moved eastward, away from the trade paths and into land the kingdoms pretended did not exist. Roots twisted above ground like exposed bones. The magic here was heavier, older, layered with memories that did not belong to humans.
Kael stumbled once.
Elmyra caught his arm before he fell. "Slow down."
"I'm fine," Kael said automatically.
But the lie tasted flat.
He was tired—not in body alone. His thoughts felt… thinner. When he tried to remember the faces of the villagers, there was only fog. He knew they had faces. He knew they had begged, cried, stared.
But the details were gone.
Magic had eaten them.
Mask stopped abruptly.
Kael nearly walked into him.
"This is where it branches," Mask said.
Elmyra frowned. "Branches into what?"
Mask knelt and brushed aside leaves, revealing markings carved into stone—symbols from multiple kingdoms layered atop one another. Some were old. Some were fresh.
"A junction," Mask said. "Smugglers. Couriers. Slavers. Messengers."
Kael's stomach tightened. "For the kidnapper."
"Yes."
Elmyra crouched beside Mask. "How many routes?"
Mask studied the symbols. "Three major. Several minor."
Kael clenched his fists. "And the captives?"
Mask's silence answered him.
"They're being moved," Kael said.
"Constantly," Mask replied. "So no single rescue exposes the whole network."
Kael looked down the branching paths. Each one felt wrong in a different way.
"If we follow one," Kael said slowly, "we lose the others."
"Yes."
Elmyra's voice was sharp. "Then we split."
Mask shook his head. "That gets you killed."
Kael turned to him. "You brought me here to choose, didn't you?"
Mask met his gaze. "I brought you here because the choice was coming whether you wanted it or not."
Kael's heart pounded.
One path tugged at him—not physically, but magically. The pressure behind his thoughts leaned that way, subtle but insistent.
Another path felt empty.
The third felt… distant. Like something important was there, but far ahead.
Kael swallowed. "If I use magic to track them—"
"You will lose something else," Mask finished.
Elmyra grabbed Kael's arm. "Don't."
Kael looked at her. Really looked.
Her eyes were fierce, afraid, alive.
And suddenly he understood something terrifying.
Magic hadn't taken his fear entirely.
It had taken his fear of losing himself.
"I won't cast," Kael said.
Mask raised an eyebrow. "Then how will you choose?"
Kael closed his eyes.
He listened—not to magic, but to memory.
The princess's empty chamber.
The letter on the throne.
The way the kidnapper wanted him to react.
Kael opened his eyes and pointed to the path that felt empty.
"That one."
Elmyra stared. "But there's nothing there."
"Exactly," Kael said. "That's where they don't expect pursuit."
Mask studied him for a long moment.
Then he stood.
"Good," he said. "You're starting to think like prey that learned teeth."
They moved quickly now.
The forest shifted as if annoyed by their confidence.
Hours later, they found the first sign.
A broken cart.
Human-made.
Fresh.
Kael crouched beside it, fingers tracing the wood grain. His mind tried to fill in faces again—and failed.
Frustration flared.
"I hate this," he muttered.
Elmyra knelt beside him. "Hate what?"
"That magic decides what matters," Kael said. "Not me."
Mask answered without turning. "Magic does not decide. It reveals."
They followed the trail until dusk bled into night.
Then the ambush came.
Chains snapped from the trees, glowing faintly with runes. The ground erupted in binding sigils. Kael barely rolled aside before a spell slammed into the earth where his head had been.
Figures dropped from above—trained, silent, human.
Agents.
Mask moved first.
Not with spectacle.
With finality.
Two attackers fell without sound, their magic severed at the source.
Elmyra fought beside him, blade flashing.
Kael was slower this time.
Not because of fear.
Because he hesitated.
A masked agent lunged at him.
Kael raised his hand—
And stopped.
He remembered the rule.
He stepped into the strike instead, twisting, using momentum the way his father had taught him. Steel rang. Pain flared. He won.
Barely.
The last agent staggered back, bleeding.
"You're too late," the agent hissed. "The princess is already moving again."
Kael grabbed him by the collar. "Where?"
The agent laughed. "Five kingdoms. Five directions. Choose."
His body went limp.
Dead.
Silence fell again.
Elmyra stared at Kael. "They're forcing you to fail."
Kael released the body slowly.
"No," he said. "They're forcing me to decide what kind of failure I can live with."
Mask looked at him carefully.
"This is where heroes usually break," Mask said. "Or harden."
Kael looked down the darkened path ahead.
And for the first time since touching magic—
He felt afraid again.
Thebody cooled faster than Kael expected.
He hadn't meant to notice that detail, but once he did, he couldn't stop. The warmth faded under his fingers, replaced by the dull certainty that this person—enemy, agent, threat—was now only matter.
Kael stepped back.
Elmyra closed the man's eyes with a practiced motion. "Don't stare," she said quietly. "It stays longer if you stare."
Kael nodded, though he wasn't sure what it was anymore.
Mask had already moved away, examining the bindings left behind. Chains lay scattered across the ground, their runes dimming as whatever powered them bled out. He crouched, tracing one sigil with a gloved finger.
"These aren't meant to kill," Mask said. "They're meant to delay."
"So we were bait," Elmyra said.
"Yes."
Kael exhaled slowly. "For who?"
Mask stood. "For you."
The forest felt closer now. Not hostile—expectant.
Kael rubbed his temples. "They said five kingdoms. Five directions."
"They want you to scatter," Mask replied. "To panic. To choose wrong."
Elmyra crossed her arms. "Then we do the opposite."
Mask looked at her. "Which is?"
"Stay together," she said. "Hit one route hard enough that the others feel it."
Kael considered that. It felt bold. Simple.
And wrong.
"They're counting on that too," he said.
Both turned to him.
Kael pointed back the way they'd come. "The burned village wasn't random. Neither was this junction. They're shaping our movement."
Mask's eyes narrowed slightly. "Go on."
"If I were the kidnapper," Kael said slowly, "I'd make every choice hurt. No matter what we do, someone suffers. That way, I don't have to win—I just have to wait."
Elmyra's jaw tightened. "So what do we do?"
Kael hesitated.
Then he said it.
"We follow the route with the captives."
Elmyra stiffened. "And the princess?"
Kael met her gaze. "She's important. But she's not leverage."
Silence fell hard between them.
Mask studied Kael carefully. "Explain."
"They're moving the captives to control me," Kael said. "To make me react. The princess is already a symbol—they don't need to rush her."
Elmyra shook her head. "You're guessing."
"Yes," Kael agreed. "But it's a guess based on how they think."
Mask remained quiet for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"Good," he said. "You've stopped chasing the board. You're reading the player."
They turned toward the eastern route—the one marked with layered human and dwarven symbols. The magic there felt… crowded. Too many lives pressed together.
Kael felt it like pressure against his ribs.
They moved fast.
---
The Caravan of Silence
They found the captives just before dawn.
A caravan moved along a narrow ravine path—six wagons reinforced with iron bands, pulled not by horses but by something stronger. Lanterns glowed faintly, their light dampened by enchantment.
At least thirty people.
Men. Women. Children.
All alive.
Kael's chest tightened painfully.
Elmyra whispered, "We can't take them head-on."
"No," Mask agreed. "But we don't need to."
He turned to Kael. "You will not cast unless I tell you."
Kael nodded. "Understood."
Mask moved first, slipping into shadow like a thought left unfinished. Elmyra followed, blade low, breath controlled.
Kael stayed back.
Every instinct screamed at him to do something.
He forced himself to wait.
A guard collapsed silently.
Then another.
The caravan slowed, confusion rippling through the agents escorting it.
That's when something went wrong.
A child cried out.
The sound sliced through Kael like glass.
An agent spun, raising a hand—
"Now," Mask said sharply.
Kael didn't think.
He didn't pull.
He redirected.
The magic already forming twisted sideways, discharging harmlessly into the ravine wall. Stone shattered. Dust filled the air.
Chaos erupted.
Elmyra leapt onto a wagon, cutting chains, shouting instructions. "Run! Into the trees!"
The captives hesitated only a moment—then fled.
Agents surged forward.
Kael stepped in their path.
Pain flared as he bent space just enough to make their footing betray them. One fell hard. Another slammed into a wagon.
Each use hurt more than the last.
Something slipped again.
A memory.
His mother's voice.
Not gone.
But distant.
Kael staggered.
Mask appeared at his side instantly. "Enough."
The last agent fled.
Silence followed—broken only by ragged breathing and the sounds of people escaping into the forest.
Kael dropped to one knee.
Elmyra knelt beside him. "You saved them."
Kael laughed weakly. "At a discount."
Mask studied him. "What did it take?"
Kael closed his eyes.
"I can't remember my mother's face clearly," he said.
Elmyra froze.
Mask's jaw tightened. "You're burning through anchors."
"I know," Kael whispered. "But they're alive."
Mask placed a hand on his shoulder. "That matters."
Far away, in a chamber lit by cold blue flame, the kidnapper listened to a report.
"So," he said thoughtfully, "he chose the many."
The messenger hesitated. "Yes."
The kidnapper smiled.
"Good," he said. "Then prepare the singular."
The messenger stiffened. "You mean—"
"Yes," the kidnapper replied softly. "The princess moves tonight."
Back in the forest, Kael rose unsteadily to his feet.
He had saved lives.
And somewhere deep inside him, something whispered—
You can't save everyone.
---
End of Chapter 17