Chapter Forty-Nine: Blood in the Fields (continued)
The clearing pulsed with unease. Kael stood tall, shadows writhing at his feet, fire licking faintly across his fingers. The bandits shifted restlessly, soldiers raised shields in nervous half-formation, and the wounded ogre groaned faintly on the soil.
Then the crowd parted.
From the treeline, a man strode forward.
Unlike the bandits in their filthy rags or the soldiers in dented armor, this man carried himself with polished arrogance. His cloak was black, lined with silver thread, and a jeweled sword rested easily at his hip. His dark hair was slicked back, his expression sharp, eyes gleaming with calculated cruelty.
He moved with a predator's ease, each step purposeful, and the others instinctively fell silent as he passed.
Kael felt it at once—the cold weight of authority, of a man who commanded others not through honor, but through fear.
The newcomer's gaze flicked lazily over the ogre bleeding in the dirt before rising to Kael. A smirk pulled at his lips.
"So," the man drawled, voice smooth, too casual for the tension that hung in the air. "You're the shadow-walker I've heard about. The beast tamer." His eyes shifted briefly to Umbra, who bared his teeth in a silent snarl. "Interesting."
Kael didn't move. "And you are?"
The man chuckled, tapping the hilt of his sword. "Names don't matter. Only results. And the result I want is her." He gestured at the ogre with a flick of his wrist. "She belongs to us."
Kael's voice was low, dangerous. "You chase her onto my land. You threaten my people. Why should I let you leave with her?"
The man's smile widened into something cruel. He stepped closer, ignoring the way Kael's shadows twitched at his heels. His eyes—cold and sharp—slid past Kael, toward the horizon where the Hollow lay hidden by trees.
And he lingered there.
Too long.
Kael followed the glance and felt his jaw tighten.
The man wanted more than the ogre. His gaze wasn't just greedy—it was hungry. Calculating.
After a long moment, the man exhaled softly through his nose and stepped back, palms raised in mock surrender. "Perhaps you're right," he said smoothly. "Perhaps this one isn't worth the trouble."
He turned, cape swaying behind him. "We'll let you have her."
The bandit captain frowned, starting to protest, but the man silenced him with a look sharp enough to cut. The soldiers, well-trained despite their filth-stained company, began to fall back.
But as the man passed into the treeline, his grin returned. He glanced over his shoulder once more—directly at Kael.
And then beyond him.
Toward the Hollow.
That cruel grin spoke louder than any threat. Not today. But soon.
The forest swallowed them, leaving the field heavy with silence once more.
Kael stood rigid, crimson eyes burning as the last flicker of shadow coiled back into his skin. Umbra pressed against his leg, hackles still raised. The wolfkin hunter looked shaken, but his grip on the spear never wavered. Farmers whispered nervously, stealing glances at their leader.
The ogre coughed, blood staining her lips, dragging Kael's focus back to the present.
She was weak. Broken. Yet still alive.
Kael's decision was already made.
"Get her to the healers," Kael ordered, voice sharp, carrying across the clearing. His people moved quickly, rushing forward to lift the wounded ogre. Kael's eyes remained on the treeline, where the stranger had vanished.
The shadows at his feet twisted once, violently, before fading into stillness.
"Let him grin," Kael muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. "He'll learn soon enough."