The rain had started again.
It wasn't the soft kind that whispered against rooftops—it was the kind that hammered down like the sky itself was bleeding. Kaelen welcomed it. The cold sting kept her grounded, washing away the scent of blood from the castle and masking her trail as she moved through the darkened forest beyond the city walls.
She didn't stop until the trees grew thick and tangled, shadows swallowing the last flickers of torchlight from the distant city. Only then did she allow herself to breathe. Not out of fear—Kaelen Drayce didn't fear anything—but because something felt… off. Like the forest itself was holding its breath.
She'd felt this once before.
Long ago.
Kaelen crouched near the base of an ancient tree, her sharp eyes scanning the dark. The woods were too quiet. No rustle of animals, no chirping insects. Just the rain, falling in sheets, and her own heartbeat, steady and unbothered.
Until it wasn't.
A whisper—a faint sound like cloth brushing against bark. Kaelen was on her feet instantly, blades drawn, her body tensed like a coiled spring.
"You're not as careful as they say," came a voice from the darkness. Smooth. Confident. Male.
Kaelen didn't respond. She let the silence speak for her, stepping back slowly, angling herself to avoid being flanked.
The figure emerged from the trees like a shadow peeling itself from the night. He was tall, draped in dark armor that seemed to drink in the weak moonlight, his face partially obscured by a hood. But his eyes—his eyes were wrong. Not wolf eyes. Something older. Something worse.
Kaelen didn't like what she saw.
"You've been busy, Drayce," the man said, his lips curling into a smile that didn't reach those unnatural eyes. "Lord Veylor's blood is barely dry, and yet here you are, running like a stray."
Kaelen tilted her head slightly. "If you're here to collect a bounty, you'll leave disappointed. Dead, probably."
The man chuckled, stepping closer. "Oh, I'm not here for coin."
Her grip tightened on her daggers.
"I'm here for you."
He moved fast—unnervingly fast. Kaelen barely had time to react, dodging the first strike by pure instinct. His blade was nothing like hers—black as obsidian, etched with symbols she didn't recognize. She parried, twisting to land a counterstrike, but he anticipated it, his movements fluid, almost inhuman.
Kaelen fought like she always did—brutal, efficient, ruthless. But this wasn't like any opponent she'd faced before. He was stronger. Faster. As if he wasn't entirely… mortal.
Their blades clashed in a blur of steel and sparks, but Kaelen knew she couldn't win—not like this. So, she did what she was best at.
She adapted.
With a sudden feint, she kicked up a spray of mud, blinding him for a split second—just enough to slip past, sprinting into the deeper woods. The man didn't chase immediately, which unsettled her more than if he had. Instead, his laughter echoed after her, dark and knowing.
"Run, Kaelen Drayce," he called. "But you can't outrun your blood."
---
Kaelen didn't stop running until dawn crept over the horizon.
She found shelter in the ruins of an abandoned outpost, her chest heaving—not from exertion, but from something she hadn't felt in a long time.
A flicker of fear.
His words echoed in her mind.
You can't outrun your blood.
But what did he mean?
Kaelen had spent her life burying the past, pretending her bloodline was nothing more than a forgotten name. But now, something—or someone—had found her. And they knew the truth she'd worked so hard to forget.
She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.
Whoever he was, whatever he wanted… he'd made one mistake.
He let her live.
And Kaelen Drayce never forgot a face.