The aftermath did not come all at once.
It arrived in fragments.
A dull ache beneath Elias's ribs that refused to fade.A persistent tightness in his chest whenever he drew a deep breath.A faint ringing in his ears that surfaced whenever he focused too hard.
They had been walking for nearly an hour since leaving the ambush site, moving carefully through uneven terrain far from the road. Neither of them spoke. Not because there was nothing to say—but because both understood that silence, right now, was safer.
Arin broke it first.
"You're limping."
"I'm compensating," Elias replied.
"That's worse."
Elias did not argue. His body was still functional, but something inside him felt… misaligned. The shadow beneath his feet lagged slightly behind his movements, no longer perfectly synchronized.
That worried him more than the pain.
They reached a shallow ravine and descended into it, using the stone walls as cover. Arin gestured toward a cluster of boulders partially hidden by brush.
"Camp there," he said. "No fire. Not yet."
Elias nodded.
They settled in carefully. Arin checked their surroundings while Elias leaned back against the rock, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
The moment stretched.
Too long.
His breath hitched.
Elias opened his eyes sharply and pressed a hand to his chest. The familiar pulse of his fractured core felt… uneven. Like a cracked gear grinding against another.
Arin noticed instantly. "That bad?"
"No," Elias said. Then, after a pause, "Yes."
Arin crouched in front of him, concern unhidden now. "You pushed too far back there."
"They forced my hand."
"That doesn't change the outcome."
Elias exhaled slowly. He reached inward, toward the shadow, trying to reassert control—not forcefully, but deliberately.
The response was sluggish.
The shadow recoiled, drawing closer, its edges unstable.
A sharp spike of pain flared behind Elias's eyes.
He clenched his jaw and stopped.
"…It's injured," Arin said quietly.
"Yes."
"Can shadows get injured?"
Elias opened his eyes. "Mine can."
They sat in silence again.
Above them, the sky began to darken, clouds drifting lazily across the horizon. No rain yet—but the air was heavy with the promise of it.
Arin finally spoke again. "Those people weren't here to kill us."
"No."
"They were measuring you."
"Yes."
Arin rubbed the back of his neck. "Which means next time, they'll adjust."
Elias nodded.
That was the true danger.
Not pursuit.
Adaptation.
He replayed the ambush in his mind, breaking it down piece by piece. The formation placement. The timing of the unseen attacker. The leader's restraint.
"They knew enough to be careful," Elias said. "But not enough to commit."
Arin frowned. "Meaning?"
"They don't fully understand what I am," Elias said. "Yet."
Arin didn't like the sound of that.
Night fell quietly.
They rotated watch shifts. Elias insisted on taking the first, despite Arin's objections. He stood atop a low rock, scanning the darkness, senses stretched thin.
The world felt… closer now.
As if distance itself had shortened.
Every rustle sounded louder. Every shadow felt heavier.
His own shadow refused to stretch far, clinging close like a wounded animal.
He knelt and whispered, barely audible, "You can rest."
The shadow stilled.
Elias remained awake until his turn ended.
When he finally sat down, exhaustion hit him like a wall. His body sagged, breath shallow, thoughts blurring at the edges.
Sleep took him faster than he expected.
He dreamed.
Not of the ambush.
Not of the road.
He dreamed of standing in a vast, empty space—no sky, no ground, only a gray expanse stretching endlessly in all directions.
Before him floated a massive structure made of broken light.
Runes.
Not whole ones—fragments, incomplete patterns drifting apart and reforming endlessly. Each shard pulsed with cold intelligence.
A Law.
Broken.
Watching him.
Elias tried to move closer, but chains of shadow wrapped around his limbs, holding him back—not restraining, but warning.
A voice echoed—not spoken, but impressed directly into his thoughts.
Too soon.
Pain flared.
Elias gasped awake, clutching his chest.
Arin was instantly there. "Hey—hey—what happened?"
Elias's breath came fast, shallow. Sweat soaked his shirt. His core burned like it had been struck by lightning.
"…I saw it," Elias said hoarsely.
"Saw what?"
"The fragment."
Arin swore under his breath. "That's not good."
"No," Elias agreed. "It's not."
They broke camp before dawn.
Elias moved slower now. More careful. He adjusted his stride to minimize strain, relying more on observation than speed.
The terrain grew rougher as they traveled—rocky slopes, broken ground, signs of old landslides. The road was long gone now, replaced by winding paths and narrow passes.
They encountered signs of others.
Old camps. Recently extinguished fires. Bootprints deliberately obscured.
Someone else was moving through the region.
Not chasing blindly.
Tracking.
Arin crouched beside a set of disturbed stones. "They're good."
"Yes."
"And they're not rushing."
"No."
Arin looked at Elias. "Which means they're confident."
Elias didn't answer.
Confidence came from preparation.
Preparation came from information.
Information came from him.
By midday, the weather turned.
Rain fell suddenly, hard and cold, drenching the land and washing away tracks. Arin looked skyward, then back at Elias.
"Lucky break."
"Temporary," Elias said.
They used the rain to push forward, covering distance while visibility dropped. Elias welcomed the cover—but the strain on his body increased. Each step sent a faint tremor through his core.
He slowed.
Again.
Arin noticed. "We need to stop."
"No," Elias said. "Not yet."
"You're bleeding."
Elias looked down.
Dark blood seeped faintly through the fabric near his ribs.
That… was new.
He cursed silently.
They found shelter beneath an overhanging rock formation. The rain hammered down around them, thunder rumbling in the distance.
Arin knelt and carefully pulled Elias's cloak aside.
"…This isn't a normal injury," Arin said.
"No," Elias replied. "It's internal."
Arin's jaw tightened. "From using the shadow?"
"From letting it move without restraint."
Arin exhaled sharply. "Idiot."
"Yes."
Arin worked quickly, binding Elias's torso as best he could, applying a basic stabilizing salve from his pack.
"This won't fix it," Arin said. "Just slow it down."
"That's enough."
Arin glared at him. "For now."
They stayed under the shelter until the rain eased.
When they finally moved again, Elias leaned more heavily on his staff than before. The shadow followed closely, flickering uneasily.
As evening approached, the land opened into a wide valley.
And they were not alone.
Figures moved along the ridge opposite them—distant, indistinct, but purposeful.
Arin cursed softly. "Scouts."
"Yes."
"They found us again."
"No," Elias corrected. "They never lost us."
The figures did not approach.
They watched.
Measured.
Marked.
Then vanished.
Arin's hands trembled slightly. "This is getting worse."
Elias stared at the ridge long after it emptied. "No," he said quietly. "This is escalation."
Night fell again.
This time, they did not camp.
They moved through the darkness, pushing forward while the observers repositioned elsewhere. Elias felt the pressure building—inside and out.
His dream replayed in his mind.
Too soon.
Too soon for what?
Power?
Understanding?
Or survival?
He clenched his fist.
If the world believed he was not ready—
Then he would make himself ready.
No matter the cost.