Mist clung to the forest like breath on glass, curling around ancient pines and clotted underbrush. The earth was damp, soft beneath boots, carrying the scent of rain-soaked moss and wild herbs. A light breeze stirred overhead, making branches whisper secrets only the woods could understand.
Darun Ashray crouched low, his body still as stone despite the ache crawling through his thighs from hours of waiting. The bow rested naturally in his hands, fingers flexing with a quiet, unconscious rhythm. Every shift of wind, every distant birdcall, every crunch of distant hooves etched itself into his awareness without thought.
Three days. He had been trailing this stag for three damned days.
And not just any stag. The thing stood nearly a head taller than a normal one, its antlers spiraling out in grotesque, knotted arcs like the roots of a dead tree. Patches of bone glimmered where its fur had peeled away to reveal pale, hardened plates. Its eyes… twin embers glowing faintly yellow through the early morning haze.
As Darun watched from his cover, a chill crawled up his neck. Something about this creature wasn't right—not in the obvious way, but deeper, like a wrong note in a song he couldn't unhear, and that it shouldn't exist...
He shook his head, teeth pressing against each other. Not now. Focus. It's just a stag.
Darun shifted his weight ever so slightly, boot sliding silently over wet leaves. His body moved like water, almost on instinct, spine straightening, shoulders aligning with the bow's draw. He didn't even think about it—it was like his muscles remembered something his mind had long forgotten.
A breeze shifted. The stag's head turned, ears flicking. Darun froze, breath halting mid-chest. He adjusted without thought, angling the bow so quietly even the mist wouldn't hear it.
It was perfect. The shot lined up naturally, as if some invisible string connected his arrow to the beast's heart.
And then—
Sound slammed into him like a hammer. Screams, metal clashing, the deafening roar of battle crashing against his skull. The forest shattered.
Darun blinked and was no longer in the woods.
He stood knee-deep in mud, thick with blood and rain. Smoke burned his throat, acrid and sharp. The cries of children pierced through chaos, thin and desperate. A weapon—heavy, cold—filled his hands instead of a bow. Ahead, a man lay sprawled, face caked with grime and despair, hands raised in futile surrender.
Darun's breath came ragged, his finger twitching on a lever he didn't remember pulling. Yet—
Bang.
The man convulsed, chest blooming crimson, eyes locking with Darun's for one final, silent plea before dimming forever.
No… not again. Not again.
The battlefield dissolved like smoke.
The forest snapped back into focus.
Darun's arrow loosed weakly, veering wide and thudding uselessly into the bark of a distant oak. The stag jerked its head, glowing eyes fixing on him. For a heartbeat, Darun swore the creature wasn't just looking—it was peering through him, scraping at the edges of his soul.
Then, with an unnerving, soundless grace, it bounded into the mist and vanished.
Darun lowered his bow slowly. His hands trembled, heart pounding a rhythm that didn't belong to the calm forest morning.
"Fukin' hell…" he muttered under his breath, voice scraping rough. "Can't even kill a stag. Pathetic."
"Pathetic's being kind," a voice drawled from behind. "That arrow wouldn't scare a half-dead hare."
Darun turned sharply—not with clumsy surprise but with reflexive, fluid speed, his hand already halfway to the knife at his belt before his mind caught up.
From between the trees strolled Daren Okoye, broad-shouldered and grinning like a man who'd never once missed a meal or a joke. A longbow hung casually across his back, and mud streaked his boots as if the forest barely slowed him.
Darun exhaled, hand easing off the blade. "You stalking me now?"
"Someone's gotta make sure you don't starve out here," Daren said, leaning against a mossy trunk with practiced ease. "Besides, watching you miss is the only entertainment I've had all week."
Darun's scowl was half-hearted, his lips twitching despite himself. "Miss, huh? I was letting it go. Mercy."
"Mercy," Daren echoed, laughing. "Sure. Looked more like your bow had stage fright."
Darun snorted softly but didn't answer. The echoes of battle still clung to him, ghosts he couldn't shake. Daren saw it—he always did. The grin softened into something quieter.
"Same dream?" Daren asked.
Darun's gaze dropped to the damp earth, jaw clenched. He rolled his shoulder unconsciously, muscles shifting with the tension of a fighter bracing for a blow. "It's not just dreams," he said finally, voice low. "Every time I try to take a shot, or swing a blade… I freeze. Like something's missing. Like I don't even know why I'm doing it."
He paused, breath shallow. "And when I do pull the trigger… it feels wrong. Like killing's carved into me but doesn't belong."
For a long moment, only the wind answered, whispering through the mist.
Daren stepped closer, clapping a hand lightly on Darun's shoulder. "Well," he said, tone deliberately lighter, "lucky for you, you've got a fiancée who actually likes you. Maybe you can live off her cooking instead of half-dead stags."
Darun blinked, startled. "Elira?" he muttered. "She's… better than me. Too good. I can barely keep my head straight, can't even feed myself. What kind of heir—what kind of man—"
"Oh, give it a rest," Daren interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Elira's been betrothed to you since you were both knee-high. If she didn't want you, trust me, she would've stabbed someone about it years ago."
Despite himself, Darun felt the edge of a smile threatening. He pushed it down, scratching the back of his neck. The thought of Elira—her unshaken calm, the sharp curve of her smirk when he stumbled through words—made his chest tighten in a way battles never did.
"Come on," Daren said finally, turning toward the slope. "Let's get back before your old man sends a search party. Or worse—thinks the Kao raiders nabbed you. You know how he gets."
Darun sighed, the weight of failure still heavy but eased by his friend's banter. "Yeah," he said softly. "Let's go."