The first light of dawn slipped through the cracks in my shutters, thin golden blades cutting across my bedroll.
Outside, Valenport stirred—merchants grunting as they dragged carts into place, the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, the soft murmur of voices over bread and broth.
But beneath it all… there was something else.
A weight.
A pressure coiled in the air, pressing against my ribs. The kind of stillness predators carry before they pounce.
The ones I'd escaped were still out there.
Hidden in plain sight.
Moving between shadows.
I'd been hunted before—cornered, driven to the brink of death. The only reason I still drew breath was the volatile storm inside me: my Soul Resonance.
A gift.
A curse.
A mark that told the right kind of people I was worth killing.
I rolled my blanket, tightened my armor straps. My hands moved the way they always did before a fight—automatic, practiced, without hesitation.
The inn's door groaned as I pushed it open.
The morning air bit cold, fog curling low through the alleys, slicking the cobblestones in a pale shroud. Somewhere deep in the city, a bell tolled, each note a slow heartbeat.
Merchant Loran's orders replayed in my mind.
Investigate a band of thieves hitting caravans.
Simple words.
But in Valenport, nothing was simple.
The market was already alive. Spices stung my nose, bread baked warm in the air, and under it all, that faint metallic tang of magic—like a blade about to be drawn.
Eyes scanned the crowd: fingers grazing coin purses, cloaks twitching against the wind, glances that darted away too quickly.
"Kael."
The voice was soft. Measured.
I turned, hand already on my sword.
An elderly woman stood by a herb stall, her eyes warm but shadowed.
"Careful out there," she murmured. "The city's restless."
I nodded, but trust was a luxury I couldn't afford.
Stone streets gave way to jagged hills, then to the tree line. This was caravan country—rich in goods, poor in defenses.
By the time the fog burned away, my gut still knotted with unease.
It didn't take long to find them.
The thieves lounged in a clearing, tearing open crates like children unwrapping stolen sweets. Laughter rang loud. Weapons lay carelessly at their sides.
A perfect mistake.
I stepped forward.
"Looking for trouble?"
They froze.
One stood slowly, dagger flashing in the sun.
"Who's asking?"
Blue fire roared to life around my fists. The Soul Resonance crackled, alive and hungry.
I struck first.
The dagger spun away, my blow hurling its wielder into a pile of crates.
Arrows hissed through the air. I cut them down mid-flight, blades of raw energy singing in my hands. The smell of ozone clung to my skin.
A sword came for my side—I parried, sparks bursting in the space between us. Pain lanced my arm; the Resonance bit deep, draining me.
I pushed harder.
One man tried to flank me. A pulse of power blasted him into a tree, his breath leaving in a ragged gasp.
The last thief ran. I let him get three steps before a flick of my wrist sent a streak of lightning through his spine.
Silence swallowed the clearing. My breath came hard, heavy. My pulse was still syncing to the power's rhythm.
By nightfall, I was back inside Valenport's walls.
In a quiet courtyard, pale moonlight washed over me. I knelt and let the Resonance flare—shaping it into a shield, a blade, a faint pulse that knit my wounds together.
Each form left me trembling. Breath ragged.
But stronger. Always stronger.
A shadow moved at the courtyard's edge.
Merchant Loran stepped into the light, eyes sharp.
"You're strong," he said. "But strength won't save you. You need allies—and answers. Who betrayed you? Why did they want you dead?"
I met his gaze. The fire in my chest was steady now, controlled.
"I'll find out. And I'll rise."
His lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"The deeper you dig, the darker the shadows."
From the darkness behind him, another figure watched.
Silent.
Patient.
Close enough to strike.
This time, I didn't turn away.