The obsidian knights came with no horns, no shouts, no theatrics.
Just the low thunder of hooves, the hiss of frost under iron, and the weight of inevitability
They rode into the clearing outside the cave like reapers — tall, broad, wrapped in blackened plate armor that drank in the firelight. Four wore featureless helms. The fifth, who led them, had no helmet. His hair was black and unkempt, curling wildly around a pale, scarred face. A deep gash ran across his right cheek, half-healed and jagged. His eyes were dead and slow — like something that remembered being alive.
He didn't need to introduce himself Thaddeus felt it in his bones.
That was his captor, the slaver chain forger theThe one who took everything.
"That one's ours," the leader said flatly, nodding at Thaddeus. His voice sounded like gravel soaked in blood. "Step aside."
Gwen didn't flinch.
"Funny," she said. "He's standing right here. And you're not taking him."
The other knights stirred in their saddles. Metal creaked. Hooves shifted.
Jorah reached into his pouch and whispered something under his breath. He tossed a small rune stone onto the snowy ground.
It flared with light — bright and blinding.
Thaddeus barely had time to scream before he was lifted, body yanked through space like a leaf in a cyclone.
In that very second he seen numerous objects pass by him like he was on a haste train in a fraction of a second they must have moved at least 50 meters away from the cave by now
Now's not the time to be thinking about the distance I traveled tho I have two captors after me and if I don't figure something out I may never escape this night made and succumb to it
A massive clang split the stillness. The bark of a tree exploded nearby — split by the swing of a massive greatsword that nearly took Gwen's head off.
"I'm sorry I didn't know I dismissed you?, and it seems that I still don't have that boy in my hands now last chance before I kill you no reward, you leave with all of your belonging and not to mention your life take it or leave it" the man in clad armor said voice sounding more demanding than before.
Pushing me down to the ground Gwen unsheathed her weapon and Ty knocked an arrow while the old man raised his staff,
The horse man let out a sigh as if saying they always do this
With in the brief second all the horsemen moved and unleashed they're weapon
Jorah stepped in front of Thaddeus
The battle erupted like lightning in a powder barrel. One knight charged Ty. Another veered toward Gwen, The third went for Jorah.
Swords rang. Arrows flew. Runes flashed. But this time… something felt wrong
Thaddeus backed away, heart hammering. Then froze.
A second blade — from behind.
Cold metal kissed his throat.
"Don't move," Jorah said quietly behind
him. "Sorry, lad. You're just worth too much," Jorah muttered. "Didn't think you'd survive the cave. But fate's got a sense of humor right?."
Thaddeus's blood burned.
No. Not again.
He twisted his neck, slamming his shoulder back into Jorah's chest. The knife sliced his skin, shallow but hot. He felt it. He used it. The pain anchored him.
Jorah staggered. Thaddeus dropped low, snatching a chunk of frozen dirt and hurling it into the old man's face. It shattered against his cheek. Enough time. Enough distance.
He ran.
Through snow and smoke and shouts. Through the roar of horses and the wet sound of blades meeting flesh. His lungs burned, each breath a knife. He didn't care. He had no direction — only away.
He tumbled down a slope, rolled, and landed in a hollow where the snow lay untouched. Silence rushed in all at once, broken only by his ragged breathing and the muffled thunder of battle behind him.
For the first time in a long time, Thaddeus was alone.
He pressed his back against a tree, staring down at his shaking hands — the small cut on his neck still bleeding, his breath fogging in the cold.
"I really thought I was done with this," he whispered.
His voice cracked.
"I thought if I just… kept my head down, trusted the right people, things would be different."
He laughed — dry, ugly, tired.
"Different. What a joke."
The faces of Gwen, Ty, and Jorah burned behind his eyes — each one a different kind of lie.
"I keep thinking I've changed," he said, his words soft but sharp, like he was carving them into the air. "But I still hesitate. Still trust. Still hope. And every damn time, it's the same ending — the same cage, just made of new hands."
He tilted his head back, eyes catching the faint shimmer of moonlight through the branches.
"I was a fool to think the world owed me peace. It doesn't. It never will."
His fingers tightened into fists, blood running from his palms.
"Fine. No more waiting. No more running. I'll finish this trial. I'll tear through every chain they throw at me. If this nightmare wants to hunt me—"
he lifted his head, voice low and calm now, dangerous in its certainty,
"—then it better run too."
He stood, wiping the blood from his neck, and stepped into the dark woods. The cold swallowed him whole, but his heart — his heart burned hotter than ever.
The hunt wasn't over.
It had just begun