We had barely settled in the valley when the first sign appeared.
Elara spotted it first—a faint disturbance in the water of the stream we used for drinking. Ripple patterns that couldn't have been caused by wind, stones slightly shifted as if someone—or something—had passed through them with purpose.
"Someone's been here," she whispered, eyes scanning the tree line. "And it wasn't the hunters."
Rowan went silent, crouching low. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade, but his eyes betrayed confusion. That hesitation was worse than fear—it meant he had trusted someone who had not deserved it.
"Who?" I asked, my voice steady even as my chest tightened.
"They," he said finally, "the ones we thought we could rely on."
The betrayal hit before I understood the scope. A figure stepped from the shadow of the trees—familiar, comfortable, yet impossible. It was Kieran, a messenger we had met weeks ago in a village on the outskirts of the northern forests. He had helped us before, or so we thought.
His smile was warm—but the eyes behind it were cold, calculating.
"I've been waiting," he said. "Waiting for the right moment to deliver her to those who deserve her."
I felt a tremor run through me—not of fear, but of disbelief. Betrayal tastes different when it comes from someone whose hands you thought safe.
Elara's lips pressed into a thin line. "Why?" she asked.
Kieran shrugged, as if the weight of what he was about to do were nothing. "Because the world has rules, and some of us are meant to enforce them. Even if it's… unpleasant."
Rowan's sword was out in an instant, silver catching the dim light of the morning. "You'll regret that," he said, voice low.
Kieran didn't flinch. Instead, he raised his hand, fingers tracing a strange symbol in the air. Energy curled and hissed around it, cutting through the valley like a whispered threat.
"You've grown," he said to me, "but not enough."
Power surged beneath my skin—not like before, not playful, not deliberate. Hungry. Wild.
I stepped forward, feeling Nyxara's echo rise inside me, sharp and insistent. The world shifted, responding to the touch of someone who had been suppressed too long. Trees groaned as their roots bent toward me, stones leapt to block paths, the air tightened into a current only I could navigate.
"Stay behind me," I told Rowan and Elara, though I knew it wouldn't be enough. Not today.
Kieran laughed softly, almost in disbelief. "The child thinks she is ready."
"Not a child," I whispered. "Not anymore."
And for the first time, betrayal became a weapon I could use as much as a lesson. The valley quaked subtly, a warning that the world itself had taken my side.
Kieran faltered. His smirk wavered. He had underestimated not only my awakening but the part of me they had hidden—the part they had tried to erase.
I clenched my fists. "The lies are over," I said, voice ringing clear.
And in that moment, the first strike of the battle for my life—and my truth—was about to fall.