-The NARRATOR'S POV-
-Here We Go-
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The cold wind howled across the snow-blanketed trail, muffling the crunch of footsteps and the occasional rustle of tattered flags still fluttering near broken spears. The aftermath of battle lay silent behind them, the faint echo of illusion and death still hanging heavy in the air. Kael and Agira continued their solemn return to the Chirosan capital, their conversation slowly dissolving into thoughtful silence.
Snow drifted gently down as the twin moons began to rise, casting a pale light upon the path ahead. The world felt hollow, eerily quiet—until a faint tremble stirred in the wind.
It began as a blur at the edge of Agira's peripheral vision. A flicker of movement against the otherwise still backdrop of snow and pine. He paused. His eyes narrowed, golden irises flaring momentarily as he scanned the distance.
From between the skeletal remains of frost-covered trees, a figure emerged—stumbling, fragile, barely able to stay upright. Each step was labour. The scent hit them before the figure came into full view—a sharp tang of human blood.
"A human... out here?" Kael muttered, instinctively lifting his scarf over his nose.
Agira's golden gaze gleamed brighter, pupils dilating into slits. "She's injured," he said, already moving before Kael could respond. His feet barely touched the snow, gliding with unnatural grace and urgency.
The girl—no older than eighteen—collapsed just a few feet ahead of him. Her breaths were shallow, her lips trembling from the cold. Blood trickled down her temple, mixing with melted snow on her pale skin. Her hand clutched something tightly—crumpled parchment, torn at the edges.
"Help... me..." she whispered, barely audible as her strength gave out completely and she collapsed into Agira's arms.
Kael caught up, his brow furrowed. "This doesn't make sense. A human this deep into Chirosa territory? She should have been dead long before she reached the border."
Agira said nothing. His expression was unreadable, but his hands were gentle as he carefully examined her. Despite the blood and bruises, her body bore no fatal wounds. She was in shock—but alive. Still, something about her presence was off. Her clothes were formal, ceremonial almost. Not the garb of a peasant or a runaway. She had a purpose.
"She's not just a human," Agira murmured, his fingers carefully prying open her hand to retrieve the parchment she held.
The seal was unmistakable—the royal insignia of the Suralis Empire, adorned with the emblem of the Temple of Sanctity. A royal decree. A summons of high urgency. As he unfolded it, his eyes quickly scanned the contents. The language was formal, the tone desperate.
It was a message to the Chirosa Dominion, written by the High Priest's hand, bearing the imperial command of King Agastya Amrayana.
The words were few—but they were enough:
"To the Dominion of Crimson Twilight,
We seek your aid. The Prophet is missing.
Our seers have fallen into silence. Shadows move within the light."
"She is our envoy. Protect her, for she is our last hope."
Agira's brows furrowed deeply.
"The Prophet..." Kael read over his shoulder, a mixture of surprise and suspicion in his tone. "I thought the Temple of Sanctity guarded their Prophet like a relic. Why send a human girl with a message like this?"
Agira didn't respond immediately. Instead, he lifted the girl in his arms, his expression quiet, his golden eyes dimming slightly to their usual cool blue. He turned to Kael.
"She was running from something," he said. "Whatever it was, it wasn't just a threat—it was death incarnate. And yet, she made it to us. That means something."
Kael shook his head slowly. "You think she's bait? Or a warning?"
"She's truth," Agira said softly, glancing back at the snowy trail from where she'd come. "Whether it's wrapped in lies or not, I intend to find out."
They moved again, Agira carrying the unconscious envoy while Kael trailed protectively behind. As they walked through the ever-darkening woods, shadows seemed to stir at the edge of the trees. Whispering winds carried faint echoes—words neither in Chirosan nor Suralan tongue. Kael's hand hovered near his blade, senses on high alert.
"You can feel it too," he muttered. "Something is following us."
Agira nodded slowly. "They didn't want her to reach us. That means whatever truth she carries... it's dangerous."
As if on cue, a loud snap echoed through the trees. The world slowed.
Kael moved instantly, shifting into his wolf form, claws extended and fangs bared. Agira, still cradling the girl, turned just enough to let his energy surge outward—a protective barrier of silence formed around them. The very snowflake-laden air distorted, repelled by an unseen force.
Shadows darted between the trees—humanoid, but malformed. Silent. Not vampires. Not human either.
Kael snarled. "Spectres?"
"No..." Agira whispered, eyes sharpening like polished blades. "These are Deathbound—souls chained by forbidden magic."
"They're not after us. They're after her."
Agira's hand glowed faintly with a greenish-blue hue as the dormant powers of Mrityunjaya stirred beneath his skin. With a whisper, he activated a warding sigil beneath his feet. The girl's body glowed faintly as protective energy enveloped her.
"Kael. Hold them back for thirty seconds."
"Done."
Kael lunged forward, his werewolf form tearing through the cold night air, claws raking through the spectral figures. They shrieked in distorted agony but never truly died—reforming from mist and dread.
Agira placed the girl gently onto the snow and drew a single breath.
Then silence.
And in a single moment, all the shadows vanished. Not scattered. Not destroyed. Simply... erased.
His eyes, once blue, turned faintly golden once again.
The land was calm. The ward still glowed faintly around the girl, and Kael returned to human form, panting softly.
"You didn't kill them," Kael said after a long pause.
"No," Agira replied. "Because they weren't truly alive."
He looked back at the girl.
"Neither was she supposed to be, had we been a moment late."
Kael studied Agira for a long moment, then looked toward the girl again.
"Who do you think she is?"
Agira stared at the unconscious envoy as though her presence answered a question he hadn't yet dared to ask.
"She's the key," he murmured. "To the Prophet. To the truth. To the beginning of something far older than us all."
And with that, they walked back into the forest toward the castle, unaware that in the shadows left behind, something else had started moving—quiet, patient, and watching.
Waiting for the moment prophecy and blood would collide.
-To Be Continued-
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See you in the Comments.
-P.S. CONSTRUCTIVE ADVICE WOULD BE APPRECIATED. REFRAIN FROM SPREADING HATE.-