'Another enemy?' his mind screamed, panic rising in his throat. 'Did the swamp alert them? Did they enter the Marsh Forest just to hunt me down?'
He gripped his axe handle, but before he could raise it, a figure stepped out of the shadows of a massive weeping willow.
Norvin blinked, surprised. The man was young—likely not even twenty years old yet. He bore none of the heavy, clanking plate armour of the Kvothe Kingdom, nor the rigid uniform of a soldier. He wore a simple, rugged attire that blended with the gloom: a hooded cloak thrown over leather armour that protected his torso and shoulders, and heavy, mud-stained boots. A plain longsword hung at his hip, devoid of any noble crest or sigil.
He looked like a bandit, or perhaps a mercenary, yet there was a dangerous grace in the way he stood. He had a handsome, smiling face that seemed entirely out of place in this hellscape.
The stranger sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling slightly.
"I smell blood on you, boy. Fresh."
Norvin's heart hammered against his ribs. He couldn't tell the truth. "Oh... I... I had to kill a snake. A giant viper. It was trying to bite me."
The stranger's smile widened, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Lying is not good, you know. Especially in the dark." He took a step closer, his boots making no sound in the sludge. "That isn't cold snake blood. That is the scent of a human. Isn't it?"
"It's mine!" Norvin blurted out, stepping back. "I scratched myself on the thorns trying to defend against the snake. It was huge!"
The young man tilted his head, amused. "Do you know what happens to little children who lie under the canopy of the night? The Goddess of Night sends Sirius, her loyal hound, to hunt them down. He eats the liars whole, dragging them into the abyss where they simply vanish, never to return to their mothers ever again."
Norvin stared at the man. The threat was delivered like a nursery rhyme, but the glint in the stranger's eyes made it feel like a promise.
"Then I guess I was already eaten," Norvin whispered, his voice hollow.
He stood there, a small, bloodstained figure in the darkness between the trees.
'Return to my mother?' The words stung more than the threat. He believed the man's superstition, for his life felt like one long punishment already.
The man's smile suddenly vanished.
He moved with startling speed, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. He knelt down until he was eye-level with Norvin, staring deep into the boy's soul with an intensity that made Norvin want to shrink away. After a few heavy breaths of silence, the man stood up.
He placed a hand on Norvin's shoulder—a grip that was firm and inescapable.
"Come," the stranger said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. "I will help you get out of this forest. The roots are restless tonight."
They began to walk together, the stranger leading the way with confident strides. But panic flared in Norvin's chest. The man was heading the opposite direction—deeper into the territory controlled by the Kvothe Kingdom.
'He's going the wrong way!' Norvin thought desperately. 'If I go this way, I'll walk right into the Ruxwax stronghold. But if I refuse...'
"Ah... excuse me," Norvin stammered, trying to pull away gently. "I actually need to go the other direction."
The stranger stopped and looked back, an eyebrow raised in genuine confusion. "Huh? Aren't you a resident of Ruxwax? We are heading straight for the city gates. I am going there anyway, so I decided to take you with me."
Norvin's blood ran cold. 'He thinks I am of Ruxwax.'
The realization hit him like a physical blow. Of course—he wasn't wearing armour, and he was alone in the marsh. To this stranger, he looked like a lost local child.
'This guy has a sword', Norvin analyzed quickly, glancing at the weapon on the man's hip. 'He moves like a predator. If he finds out I came from the Serpent's Maw camp to poison their dragons, he will gut me right here in the mud. He doesn't look like a knight, but he clearly isn't on my side.'
Norvin swallowed the lump in his throat. He had to maintain the ruse. He had to become the lie.
"Yes..." Norvin lied, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I am. I am from Ruxwax."
"Good," the stranger replied, resuming his walk.
"What are you doing this deep in the Marsh Forest?" Norvin asked, trying to keep his voice steady as he stepped over a twisting root. "This isn't a place for travelers."
"Oh, me?" The young man glanced back, a playful glint in his eyes. "I have a duty I need to complete. A task bestowed upon me by my master."
He paused, looking up at the canopy where the stars were hidden behind the thick, choking mist.
"Tell me, boy... do you know what the Goddess of Night says about the duty of a person?"
Norvin stayed silent, shaking his head.
"She teaches that the Chains of Duty bind a human to this mortal realm," The young man continued, his voice taking on a rhythmic, almost sermon-like quality. "Most men are prisoners to these chains. But only by destroying one's own iron shackles can one become a true warrior—one who can reach up and touch the stars gleaming down from the heavens."
He stopped walking and turned to face Norvin. "But not everyone can break them. The Goddess whispers that only those who have willingly offered themselves to the chains—who understand the cruel nature of this world—can shatter them. They follow their duty not because they are forced, nor because they fear the lash, but because they understand that their strength exists not for themselves, but for the beliefs they dedicate their souls to."
Norvin absorbed the man's words. It was a strange, heavy wisdom that settled deep inside his heart. It reminded him of his father, and strangely, of Remus—men bound by duty, yet fighting for something beyond themselves.
They walked in silence for several minutes, the only sound the squelching of boots in the mud. Ultimately, the young man spoke again, his tone lighter.
"Do you want to hear more about the Goddess of Night?"
"I want to know about you," Norvin countered, his guard still up. "And this duty of yours."
"About me? Ah..." The man laughed softly. "I cannot tell you much about my past. But as for my duty... I have heard a foul soul lives in these woods. A creature that has overstayed its welcome. I am here to say hello to him."
"Can I know your name?" Norvin asked.
The stranger stopped and bowed theatrically, a mocking gesture of nobility amidst the filth of the swamp.
"Oh, where are my manners? I should have introduced myself sooner. I am Cahir Merlin, the Eldest Disciple of the Wind-Walker of the Night Sky."
Norvin took a second to process the information, his mind reeling.
'Cahir Merlin?' The name carried a weight Norvin didn't understand, but the title, Wind-Walker of the Night Sky, sounded legendary. 'Who was this person? And who was this 'foul soul' he had come to greet?'
He had no time for riddles. The red ghost had warned him about the forest, and this man felt dangerous in a way that was entirely different from the brute strength of a knight.
"I see, Sir Cahir," Norvin said, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you for helping me this far, but I will take my leave now. I realized I need to go somewhere else."
Cahir didn't move. He stood perfectly still, his back to Norvin.
"Are you perhaps from the other side of the border?" Cahir asked, his voice losing its playful warmth.
"No, of course not," Norvin lied quickly, his heart hammering against his ribs. "It's just... I have no intention to disturb you or your friend—this foul soul you speak of."
"Oh, don't worry," Cahir chuckled, but the sound was devoid of humour. "That thing is not my friend. He is a friend of my sword."
'He is here to kill someone', Norvin realized, panic flaring. 'An assassin sent by this Wind-Walker. I need to run. Now.'
"Yes, well... thank you, but I will get going."
Norvin turned around, ready to bolt in the opposite direction, desperate to put distance between himself and this smiling predator.
"You are a spy, aren't you?"
The words stopped Norvin dead in his tracks.
He hadn't expected the accusation to be so direct, so sharp. Norvin froze, his back to Cahir, his hand inching toward the hidden pocket where his knives lay. 'How did he know?'
"You reek of murder, boy," Cahir whispered, his voice suddenly right behind Norvin's ear.
"Those bloodstains on your clothes... the metallic scent clinging to your skin... those are not yours," Cahir continued, his tone clinical and cold. "The man whom you killed, boy... tell me. Was he a Knight of the Kvothe Kingdom?"
'I need to escape.' Norvin dashed forward deeper into the words, gathering all his strength and humping from barks to barks to avoid getting slow by the mud, he doesn't need to answer to this Cahir.
Cahir, took out his sword, the elegant sword with the elegant craftsmanship down to his hilt were a stark contrast to the appearance he had.
"Iarann Huitzli!"
The man roared the incantation, his voice booming like thunder rolling across the plains.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The air above the canopy grew heavy and metallic, screeching as if reality itself were being torn asunder. Then, the bombardment began. A torrential rain of massive iron spears plummeted from the night sky, streaking down with the velocity of meteors.
Thud! Thud! Snap!