The morning air was sharp, carrying a frost that bit at Kael's cheeks and made his fingers stiff as he adjusted the cursed sword at his side. The forest was quiet, deceptively calm, as if holding its breath. Kael had learned that stillness often meant danger.
Elara moved beside him with the same effortless grace, her emerald eyes constantly scanning the treeline. She had taken to staying just slightly ahead, as if reading the forest ahead of him. Kael's gaze drifted toward her, and despite the tension lingering from the Archivum, he felt a strange warmth. She was wise beyond her years, clever and resourceful—and even after everything she had endured, she carried herself with a freedom he could only envy.
How can someone so young understand so much of the world? he thought, shaking his head. I've lived fifteen years, but she… she's seen more than I could ever imagine.
"You're thinking again," she said softly, glancing at him. "Don't get lost in your head, Kael. Focus. The mercenary… he's clever. He'll be looking for patterns in our movement. And if we give him even a fraction of a mistake…"
Kael's jaw tightened. "I know. I won't make mistakes. Not this time."
The cursed sword pulsed faintly at his hip, its black surface shimmering as though it shared his determination. We will survive. We will claim him before he claims you.
Kael shook his head to clear the whisper, focusing instead on the forest. He had spent days retracing their path through the woods, learning its hidden trails, natural ambush points, and escape routes. Every fallen branch, every patch of uneven ground became part of his mental map, a strategy in case the mercenary struck again.
Hours passed with routine vigilance—Kael sparring against imaginary foes, Elara practicing light magic to enhance their perception, senses sharpened. They spoke little, the weight of what had happened at the Archivum still heavy on both of them. The bond between them grew quietly, in shared glances, in synchronized movements, in silent understanding.
Then, a subtle sound cut through the forest—a snap, almost imperceptible. Kael froze, muscles tensing. The cursed sword thrummed against his side, its dark energy whispering, He's near. I can feel him.
Elara stiffened, eyes narrowing. "Someone's here. He's watching us."
Kael's grip tightened on the hilt. "I know."
From the shadows between the gnarled trees, a figure emerged. The mercenary, his scarred face a mask of cold amusement, stepped into a shaft of sunlight. "Well, well," he said, voice dripping with mockery. "The boy and his little mage. Practicing in the woods? How quaint."
Kael's chest tightened. He recognized the game—the mercenary wasn't here to kill… yet. He was toying with them, testing, prodding, enjoying the tension. Every word, every movement was calculated, designed to make Kael flinch, to make Elara fearful.
"You're playing with us," Kael said, his voice low but steady. "I know your type. You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
The mercenary's laugh was cold, echoing across the forest. "Of course. The hunt is far more delicious when the prey struggles, when they think they have a chance. It's far more… entertaining."
Kael's teeth clenched. "I won't give you the satisfaction."
"Ah," the mercenary said, circling them slowly. "You've grown. Stronger since the last time. But not strong enough. Not yet." His eyes flicked to the cursed sword, and for a brief moment, a shadow of hunger crossed his expression. "That blade… it's not just steel. You'll learn its secrets soon enough… but will you survive to wield them fully?"
Elara stepped forward, staff glowing faintly. "Kael, we need to—"
"Stay back," Kael interrupted, his voice firmer than he felt. He stepped slightly ahead of her, positioning himself between her and the mercenary. Every instinct in his body screamed readiness, every muscle tensed for a fight he didn't yet know he could win.
The mercenary smirked. "Good. Confidence. Bravery. Foolishness. The three things I always enjoy breaking first."
Kael's grip on the cursed sword tightened. He could feel it stirring, sensing the tension, feeding on his determination. Let me guide you. Let me sharpen your edge.
He shook his head, forcing control. Not yet. I fight on my own terms.
For hours, the mercenary stayed at the periphery, appearing and vanishing like a shadow. He left traces—a snapped branch, a shifted leaf, the faintest echo of footsteps—but never directly engaging. Kael and Elara moved cautiously, sensing the pattern in his stalking, slowly mapping it in their minds.
Each time Kael caught sight of the man, he noted a shift—a favored angle, a habitual pause, a twitch of a shoulder. The mercenary's arrogance was a weakness. Kael's eyes narrowed. He would learn it. Every detail mattered.
During a brief pause by a stream, Kael lowered his sword and let out a long breath. Elara sat beside him, her gaze soft. "You're thinking too hard," she said gently, placing a hand on his arm. "But… you're learning. I can see it. You're not the same boy from the Archivum. You're… changing."
Kael looked at her, noting how her hand felt warm against his skin. He swallowed, a mixture of gratitude and admiration filling him. "You… you really know how to see people, don't you?"
She gave him a small smile. "Experience. Observation. And maybe… intuition. But you're learning fast too. Don't forget that. You've survived what most wouldn't even face once. That counts for something."
Kael glanced down at the cursed sword, its black surface glimmering faintly. I'll survive. I'll surpass him. I'll protect her.
The thought of the mercenary lurking, waiting for a single misstep, made his blood run cold. And yet, the challenge stirred something deep within him—a resolve to grow stronger, faster, smarter.
He knew the mercenary's games weren't just a threat—they were lessons, twisted as they were. If Kael could learn the patterns, anticipate the moves, and sharpen himself with every encounter, he might have a chance when the true confrontation came.
And I will not fail. Not this time.
The wind shifted, rustling the trees, carrying a faint, mocking whisper from the shadows. Kael's grip tightened. "I know you're there," he said, voice low and steady. "And I'm ready for you. Whenever you strike… I'll be waiting."
Elara glanced at him, concern in her eyes. "Kael… you're pushing yourself too hard. Remember… even the strongest have limits."
Kael's jaw set. "Limits are meant to be broken. If he wants to test me… let him come. I'll be ready."
The forest seemed to shiver, shadows lengthening as the day waned. Somewhere among the trees, the mercenary watched, calculating, amused. The hunt was far from over—but Kael's eyes, hardened by resolve and the dark pulse of the cursed sword, promised that he would not remain prey for long.
And for the first time in a long while, Kael allowed himself a fleeting thought: I'll protect her. No matter what it takes.
He didn't know how wrong he was.