Chapter 233: A Child in the Woods
The forest was quiet, save for the sound of Kael's voice. His tone was low but steady, carrying through the trees as he circled the clearing.
"Again," he said.
Azhara stood at the center of the space, her crimson skin faintly luminous beneath the dappling light. Her white eyes were narrowed, sweat beading along her brow. Both hands stretched forward, trembling with effort as she poured her will into the air.
Before her, a training dummy—stitched straw wrapped in cloth—shuddered violently. The dummy's limbs jerked as though invisible strings pulled against them, its stuffing straining against the seams. Then, with a sharp crack, it collapsed to the ground, its "arms" dangling uselessly at its sides.
Azhara released a ragged breath, her chest rising and falling quickly.
Kael stepped forward, inspecting the result. The dummy looked broken—its structure ruined, as though it had turned on itself.
"Good," Kael said. "You forced the weight of its limbs against it. That's control. Again."
Azhara shook her head, wiping her brow. "It feels wrong."
"What feels wrong?"
"Turning healing into… this." She gestured at the ruined dummy. "I was taught to mend, not to harm. My power was meant to give life, not strip it away."
Kael studied her, his expression firm but not unkind. "Power is never meant for only one thing. It's how you wield it that matters. Right now, I'm not asking you to become a killer. I'm asking you to learn how to stop someone who would kill you."
Her hands curled into fists, though her shoulders loosened slightly at his words. She nodded once.
"Again," she whispered, and raised her hands.
This time, she focused deeper. Her lips moved in a low chant, words from her old healer's tongue. The air shimmered faintly, like heat off stone. The dummy jerked again, its legs folding unnaturally, its "eyes"—little chalk marks Kael had drawn—darkening as faint streaks of red trickled from them.
Kael stepped in quickly. "Enough."
The magic snapped, and the dummy fell still.
Azhara staggered, but Kael caught her elbow, steadying her.
"You're stronger than you think," he said. "This isn't corruption. It's survival. You're turning your enemy's body against itself so you can keep healing the ones who need you. That's not betrayal of your gift—it's an evolution of it."
She lifted her gaze to his, the conflict in her white eyes still burning, but her voice was steadier when she spoke. "Then I'll master it."
Kael nodded once, then stepped back. "Good. Let's—"
A sharp rustle in the underbrush froze both of them. Kael's hand went to the hilt of his sword. He scanned the treeline, ears straining for sound.
Another rustle. A small gasp. Then—
A child.
A girl stepped from the brush, her face pale and dirt-streaked. She looked no older than nine, her hair tangled and her simple dress torn at the hem. Wide, frightened eyes stared at Kael first—then Azhara.
She froze, lips trembling.
Kael eased his grip from his sword and crouched slightly, lowering his voice. "It's all right. You're safe here."
The girl shook her head, stepping back. "You—you're monsters."
Azhara flinched at the word, her crimson skin seeming suddenly brighter against the forest's shadow. Kael saw the hurt flicker across her face, and something sharp twisted in his chest.
"We're not here to hurt you," Kael said carefully. "What's your name?"
The girl hugged her arms around herself, stubbornly silent.
Kael didn't push. He shifted his gaze to Azhara, who softened her expression and knelt low, her hands open on her knees.
"I know I look frightening," Azhara said, her voice quiet but warm. "But I promise you—I've only ever used these hands to heal. Not to harm."
The girl's gaze flicked to her, then away. She shuffled nervously, but she didn't run. That was a start.
Kael reached into his pack and pulled free a waterskin. He set it on the ground and nudged it toward her. "You look thirsty. Take it. No tricks."
The girl hesitated, then darted forward, snatched the skin, and scrambled back. She drank quickly, water spilling down her chin. When she lowered it, her eyes softened just slightly.
"…Eira," she whispered. "My name's Eira."
Kael smiled faintly. "Eira. That's a strong name."
Her eyes darted between them. "You're… not going to eat me?"
Varik's voice might have laughed at that. Rogan might have barked something loud. But Kael only shook his head solemnly. "No, Eira. We're going to take you somewhere safe. Somewhere warm, with food and people who will look after you. Do you know how you got here?"
The girl chewed her lip, then nodded. "I… I was picking berries with my mama. I wandered too far. I thought I could find my way back but…" Her eyes brimmed suddenly. "I couldn't."
Azhara moved first, offering her hand gently. "Come with us, little one. We'll find your mama together."
For a moment, Eira hesitated. Then she took Azhara's hand.
The Hollow received them with curiosity. Children peeked out from behind corners, whispering at the sight of a human girl in their midst. A few villagers offered food, bread rolls, and sweet cider, which Eira accepted shyly.
Later, in the council hall, Kael gathered the others. Lyria leaned against the wall, her bowstring resting idly against her fingers. Varik crouched on the table, sharp eyes never leaving the girl. Rogan towered near the hearth, arms folded. Thalos sat with quiet patience, waiting for Kael to speak.
"She says she wandered too far," Kael explained. "Her mother is still out there. We need to find her."
"And quickly," Lyria added, her voice clipped. "The forests are not forgiving."
Kael nodded. "Agreed. We'll go tonight. I want only a small team—it'll be easier to move fast."
His gaze swept the room. "Thalos. Lyria. Azhara. With me."
Rogan frowned but didn't argue. Varik smirked. "Try not to get eaten."
Eira sat small in her chair, eyes wide as she looked between them. Kael crouched again to meet her gaze.
"We'll bring your mother back," he promised.
The girl's lip trembled, but she nodded.
As dusk fell, the four of them set out into the woods—Kael leading, Lyria silent and watchful at his flank, Thalos carrying a torch to mark their way, and Azhara whispering protective wards under her breath.
The Hollow faded behind them, and the forest swallowed their footsteps. The search for Eira's mother had begun.