The further they traveled into the wilderness, the quieter the world became. The trees grew denser, their thick branches blocking out much of the weak daylight. The path underfoot became rocky, the ground uneven, and the air heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth.
Aric was starting to feel the weight of the journey. Not just from the sword, but from the fire inside him. It was there, pulsing faintly with every step. At first, it was a quiet thing, almost easy to ignore. But as they ventured deeper into the wilds, it began to press against his chest like a steady drumbeat, growing stronger with each passing hour.
"You're still with me?" Maelis asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Aric nodded, though he didn't speak. His focus was ahead, on the path. They had to make it to the next village—Sundermere—a small settlement known for its isolation. Brennar had said they'd find answers there, but Aric wasn't sure how much he believed. It felt too easy.
But they had no other choice. And the fire inside him didn't care about the reasons. It only cared about the next step, the next movement. The next challenge.
"We'll rest when we reach the river," Maelis said. "It's not far now."
Aric didn't respond. He wasn't interested in resting, not when the fire was this close to the surface. He couldn't explain it, but it was like the sword was calling to him again. Not for power, but for something deeper. Something more dangerous.
Suddenly, Maelis stopped, raising a hand.
Aric instinctively reached for the sword, his senses sharpening.
"I feel it," Maelis murmured.
Aric didn't have to ask what he meant. The atmosphere had changed—he could sense it too. The air had grown colder, and a low hum vibrated beneath the ground. A shadow seemed to move across the trees, like something was watching them.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Aric caught a flicker of movement.
A figure stepped into view, half-hidden in the trees.
Tall. Thin. Cloaked in dark fabrics that blended with the shadows.
For a moment, neither Aric nor Maelis moved.
The figure raised a hand, and in the space of a heartbeat, the air around them seemed to crackle with tension.
"Who's there?" Maelis demanded, his hand on his sword.
The figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, they took a step forward, revealing a pale face, sharp features, and piercing, almost glowing eyes.
The stranger spoke in a voice like rustling leaves. "You're not the ones I'm looking for, but you're in my way."
"Get out of our path," Aric said, his voice low.
The stranger smirked. "You should be more careful about who you cross in these woods, Emberblade."
Aric's pulse quickened. "What do you know about the Emberblades?"
"I know enough," the stranger replied. "And you don't want to know what's waiting for you in Sundermere."
The words felt like a warning, but there was no time to react. Without another word, the figure vanished into the trees, disappearing as quickly as they had come.
Maelis cursed under his breath. "That wasn't good."
"Who was that?" Aric asked, feeling a chill run through him.
Maelis looked around warily. "That was one of the Veil's hunters. They're not usually this bold."
The fire inside Aric flared again, and he could feel it—something was coming. Something worse.
"I don't care about their games," Aric muttered. "Let's keep moving."
They didn't waste time. The pressure from the fire was too heavy, the feeling of something ominous creeping closer.
As they pushed on toward Sundermere, the tension in the air only grew. Something was waiting. And Aric knew it wouldn't be long before the flames inside him would be tested again.