Hundreds of years had passed since the legendary battle at the Peak of the World. Its echoes had faded into whispers of myth, and the scattered fragments of the Ninefold Ancient Tome became relics hunted only by the few who still believed. The world had rebuilt itself. New factions rose. But balance remained fragile, and ancient secrets slumbered, waiting to awaken.
In the heart of a rarely touched forest, silence was broken by the clash of metal and ragged breaths. A woman moved swiftly between the trees, her robes torn, her arms scratched and bleeding, but her eyes burned with unwavering resolve.
This was Andini.
Andini's feet pounded the forest floor, kicking up dirt and fallen leaves. Her breath was sharp, ragged, her heart pounding like a drum of war. The dense trees around her blurred as she ran, her robes catching on thorns and branches, blood staining the torn fabric along her arm and side.
Behind her, they came.
Three masked pursuers, clad in dark robes and wrapped in silence. No war cries. No threats. Just the relentless rhythm of death closing in.
They moved like predators, precise, cold, and without hesitation. One of them raced along the forest floor, steps nearly silent. Another darted between tree limbs overhead, dropping with swift slashes before vanishing again. The third, the most terrifying, moved without a sound or shadow. She could not hear him. She could not see him. But she could feel him pressing against her senses, as if the forest itself wanted her dead.
The pressure behind her grew thicker, closer. Andini knew they would catch up in seconds. She turned sharply, feet skidding across the dry leaves, and lashed out with her blade in a wide arc.
The nearest pursuer ducked low, countering with a dagger that nearly grazed her ribs. The second dropped from the trees with twin curved blades slashing down, but she shifted sideways and struck with a palm to his chest, sending him stumbling.
Before she could regroup, the third attacker appeared, silent, sudden, and fast. His fist came like a falling boulder. She crossed her arms and blocked, but the impact rattled her bones.
She spun, kicking high, forcing them to scatter briefly. Her breaths were sharp. Her grip on the blade tightened. She couldn't take all three at once, but she only needed an opening.
She pivoted suddenly, drawing a hidden blade and slashing toward a sound at her left. Metal clashed with metal. Sparks flew. Her blade scraped against a curved dagger, wielded by the second assailant. His mask, painted with a red streak, tilted as he recoiled. She twisted her wrist and launched a kick, landing hard in his ribs.
He staggered back into the trees, but she had no time to finish him.
The others were already on her.
Andini channeled her breath, stepping into a practiced flow. She swept her foot across the ground and summoned a burst of wind behind her, sending a cloud of dust and leaves into the air. The obscuring haze gave her just enough time to sprint forward, deeper into the trees.
Pain throbbed through her side, but she forced her body to obey. She had survived worse.
The forest began to thin. The ground sloped downward. Through the branches ahead, she saw light. An opening.
But it was not salvation.
It was the edge of a cliff.
She skidded to a halt, pebbles scattering down into a vast abyss. The sky stretched open, and below her, nothing but mist and rock. She turned slowly.
The three masked warriors emerged from the treeline, their robes fluttering with each step. They had not slowed. Not relented. Not spoken a single word.
She gripped her blade tighter.
"I don't know who sent you," she said through gritted teeth, "but you won't find me an easy kill."
They said nothing.
The red-marked one lunged first, fast and sharp like a falling hawk. Andini met his strike with a parry, then spun low, slashing toward his legs. He leapt back, but the second attacker moved in, two short knives gleaming in both hands.
She stepped into the wind. A surge of air burst beneath her feet as she channeled her breath, launching herself upward and twisting midair to avoid the double slash. Her left foot caught one of them in the jaw as she flipped over him and landed near the cliff edge again.
She had no time to breathe.
The silent one appeared directly in front of her. No sound. No movement. Just presence.
His fist struck her ribs like a hammer.
Agony burst through her side. She staggered, coughing blood, barely catching herself from falling off the cliff.
They closed in.
She reached the cliff edge, wind whipping her robes. The three masked figures advanced, circling like wolves. Andini stood tall, blood trailing down her arm.
They came together.
Steel clashed in a burst of sparks. She ducked under a wide slash, slashed upward in return, then kicked the second one hard in the gut. The third attacker surged in low—fast and reckless.
Andini let the wind guide her movement. She twisted her body with the flow and channeled it toward his side. It was a whisper of force—but just enough.
He lost his footing.
A shout, then silence, as he vanished into the chasm.
The other two came without hesitation. One drove a blade toward her chest. She deflected it—but an elbow struck her side, followed by a crushing kick to her ribs.
Pain exploded through her body.
Her stance broke. Her footing slipped.
The world tilted beneath her.
She had been thrown from the cliff.
Wind screamed past her ears as the sky above twisted away. Cold despair clutched her chest.
Is this how it ends?
In that spinning fall, memories flickered—regrets, missed chances, unspoken words. Heat welled in her eyes, not from the pain, but the bitter knowledge of a life ending in vain.
Then… a face flashed in her mind. A man from her past. A warmth. A wound that never healed.
A sad smile touched her lips.
Goodbye.
She closed her eyes.
But something was wrong.
Her fall slowed, unnaturally. There was… pressure. Like soft but solid arms lifting her. An unseen cushion of air pushing back.
Her eyes snapped open. Shock overtook despair.
There, in the chaos of wind, she felt it. Not just resistance, but a pull. A hum. A subtle call from below, reaching into her soul.
The wind no longer screamed to end her. It whispered to guide her.