The wind screamed as it tore across the jagged cliffs, salt stinging the air with every gust. Waves below crashed against the rocks like war drums, relentless and thunderous. Tempest Cliffs was the kind of place bards sang about in sea shanties—right before someone was dashed against the stone.
Chris hated it instantly.
He trudged along the narrow path, cloak whipping wildly behind him. Damian walked a few paces ahead, silent as ever since the confession. The one about the almost-assassination. The one that should have changed everything.
Chris's mind hadn't stopped spinning since the night before. He'd barely slept. The truth that Damian—shadow mage, sarcastic pain in the ass, and occasional lifesaver—had once been sent to kill Elia, his childhood friend, clawed at him.
Except Damian hadn't done it.
That meant something. Right?
Damian hadn't looked back since they left the Laughing Lake. No apology. No explanation. Just silence and the cliffs.
"So… we're doing the whole 'brooding silence' thing again?" Chris asked, voice cutting through the wind. "Because I gotta say, ten out of ten on the moody anti-hero routine. Very dramatic."
Damian didn't slow down. "It's not silence if you keep talking."
"Ohoho! He speaks." Chris jogged forward to match his pace. "Seriously, though. Are we gonna talk about last night or just pretend you didn't drop a tragic backstory bomb like a casual campfire tale?"
Damian finally stopped walking. His cloak billowed like smoke, his eyes unreadable. "You asked. I answered."
"And then shut me out."
"What else is there to say?" Damian snapped. "That I hate what I was? That every time I sleep, I see her face—Elia's face—because I didn't kill her but I didn't save her either? I'm not asking for your forgiveness, Chris. I'm not asking for anything."
Chris stared at him, wind howling between them. "You're such an idiot."
Damian blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I'm mad you didn't tell me sooner. Not because I think you're a monster—but because I thought we were starting to trust each other." Chris took a step closer. "You didn't kill Elia. That means you chose to be better. That means… there's hope for you. And I—"
A loud crack echoed across the cliffside.
Chris didn't see the attack coming. One second he was mid-speech, the next he was airborne, pain exploding through his side as something slammed into him like a battering ram. He hit the ground hard, vision spinning.
"Chris!"
Damian reached for him, but a whip of metal snagged his wrist mid-motion. Chains—barbed, dark, and sizzling with runes.
From the shadows stepped a figure clad in hunter's leather, marked with the blood-red crest of Umbraxis. A bounty hunter. One of the elite.
"Kaelthorn," she drawled, violet eyes glinting under a silver hood. "And the pretty little knight. I was told to bring you in dead. But I might play with you first."
Damian's entire body tensed. "Get away from him."
Chris groaned, clutching his side. The hunter had moved fast—too fast. The chain had left a long slice down his ribs, blood seeping through his shirt.
The bounty hunter smiled. "Oh, we're going to have fun, you and I—"
She didn't finish her sentence.
Because Damian exploded.
Not literally—but his magic did.
Shadow poured from him like a broken dam. It writhed in the air, tendrils coiling like snakes, thick and alive. His eyes were black flames. His teeth bared.
The hunter barely raised her hand before a wall of darkness surged forward and slammed into her, lifting her off her feet and hurling her into a boulder with a sickening crunch.
Chris blinked. "Holy shit…"
Damian's breathing was ragged. He stood over Chris protectively, shadows pulsing off him in waves. He looked monstrous. Terrifying.
And yet, Chris didn't feel afraid.
"Don't," Damian growled as the hunter tried to rise, blood dripping from her mouth. "Touch. Him. Again."
The shadows answered his fury. They surged around her, wrapping tight, lifting her screaming into the air.
"Damian!" Chris shouted, struggling to sit up. "You're going to kill her!"
"She would've killed you!" he roared back.
Chris pushed himself onto one knee, gasping. "I know! But don't become the thing she thinks you are. You're not a weapon, Damian."
For a moment, the only sound was the crash of waves far below and the hunter's strangled gasps.
Then Damian's magic retreated like smoke drawn back into a bottle. The hunter collapsed to the ground, unconscious but alive.
Damian trembled, jaw clenched so tight Chris worried he'd snap something. His hands were still glowing faintly with power.
"I almost lost you," Damian whispered, voice breaking. "I can't—"
Chris reached up and grabbed his hand. "You didn't."
They stared at each other for a long second, the tension between them thicker than fog.
Damian looked away first. "We should move. She won't stay down long."
Chris nodded, struggling to his feet with a wince. "Agreed. But just so you know…" He leaned closer. "That was hot as hell."
Damian gave him a look. "You're bleeding."
"Still true."
They left the cliffs behind as the sky darkened into twilight, both a little shaken, both a little changed.
Chris didn't know what scared him more: how close he'd come to dying… or how fiercely Damian had fought to save him.
And Damian—he couldn't stop thinking about how easily he could've lost Chris. How easily he'd let the shadows out.
They weren't ready to talk about it yet. But their silence now felt different—charged, fragile, hopeful.
The cliffs had tried to take them. But they'd held on to each other.
And that mattered.