Gideon's boots crunched against the dirt as the Forsaken Legion marched onward, his expression a cold, impenetrable mask. Strict, yes—he had to be. There was no room for softness when leading a pack of doomed kids into the mountains. But even as he barked orders and demanded obedience, a part of him still cared. Deep down, beneath the hardened shell of a man who had seen too much death, he wanted them to survive. Especially the ones with potential. Like Lucan.
He'd known, of course, that it wasn't Lucan who had disobeyed his orders earlier. The kid had stepped forward, not out of arrogance, but to protect his friend. Gideon could see it in the boy's eyes. The fire. The defiance.
But rules were rules.
Without breaking stride, Gideon cast a glance at the dense forest ahead. Beneath his breath, he murmured an incantation—Mana Link. It was a technique not many knew, a finely tuned spell that allowed him to send a message through the weave of mana, encrypted and direct, like a ripple in a pond no one else could see. His mana pulsed, seeking the one he had linked to long ago.
A few moments later, the message reached her: Aeryn Swiftshade.
Hidden in the shadows, the cloaked figure stilled as the mana signal touched her mind. Without a sound, she acknowledged the command. Follow him. Do not intervene unless he's in real danger. The figure, veiled beneath her hood, shifted silently among the trees, her eyes fixed on Lucan's trail.
Aeryn's agile body moved gracefully through the trees, her sharp eyes scanning the forest floor below. Memories of her peaceful village burned to ashes by human bandits flooded her mind as she leapt from branch to branch. She remembered the pain, the fear, and the hatred she felt towards all humans. But then Gideon appeared, a glimmer of hope in her dark world. He broke her out of captivity and showed her kindness when she had lost all faith in humanity. He was the only one she trusted, the only one who could ever earn her trust.
To her, Lucan was just another unfortunate child, another pawn in the war. She followed him silently, keeping a careful eye on his every move as he ventured further into Shadowcrag without a clue of her existence. Despite the lurking threats and dangers that awaited him in the mountains, the boy showed an unusual amount of confidence and seemed to be relishing in his journey rather than simply trying to survive it.
She narrowed her eyes as he darted through the trees, swift and sure, like Shadowcrag was his playground. The fog thickened, making it harder to track him. Damn it, she cursed silently. She'd lost sight of him in the haze.
She combed through the area for hours, never giving up, until she heard it. The ground beneath her feet trembled with a deafening roar that filled her ears and made the hairs on her neck stand on end. She knew that sound all too well: the Dreadclaw Ursok. This creature was infamous, feared by even the most skilled hunters and classified as a B-level threat. Her heart raced in her chest as she worried about the safety of the young Lucan.
Her body moved before her mind, sprinting through the trees, a blur of motion. She needed to get to him. Fast.
As she arrived, her eyes widened in disbelief. There, standing at the edge of a cliff, was Lucan. The Dreadclaw Ursok, towering and snarling, barreled toward him like a nightmare made flesh. She tensed, ready to intervene.
But then Lucan moved. With a burst of speed, he leapt into the air, soaring above the beast in a perfectly timed maneuver, his body twisting through the sky to land on a tree branch above.
Aeryn froze, her breath caught in her throat. The Ursok, unable to stop its charge, lost its footing, skidding helplessly across the slick ground Lucan had created with his magic. It tumbled down the cliffside, roaring in fury as it disappeared into the abyss below.
For a long moment, Aeryn just stared, the corners of her lips twitching in the faintest shadow of a smile. Not bad, kid. Not bad at all.
Hidden among the dense foliage, Aeryn's eyes followed Lucan's every move. Her body remained still, cloaked in shadow, but her mind worked in silence. Perched in her hidden spot, she watched as Lucan sat on a tree branch, his legs swinging loosely in the air. His breath was heavy, but there was something in his expression—a hint of satisfaction, almost a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
His gaze shifted downward, toward the jagged cliff face where the massive bear had fallen moments ago. With a quiet exhale, he wiped the sweat from his brow and moved with purpose, descending from the tree. As his fingers touched the stone, his hands glowed faintly with mana, gripping the rock with inhuman strength. His movements were precise, fluid—climbing down the sheer cliff edge as though it were a simple staircase.
Aeryn waited, her presence a whisper in the forest. She moved with the grace of a predator, her boots glowing softly as they adhered to the cliffside. Each step was effortless, her body nearly vertical as she followed him down, the magic in her boots making her descent seem almost unnatural. No sound, no slip—just quiet, calculated motion.
Once at the bottom, she melted into the shadows of a nearby bush, her eyes never leaving him. Lucan stood before the fallen creature—the enormous beast now nothing but a mound of fur and muscle. Without hesitation, he drew a blade, small but sharp, and knelt beside the Ursok. The knife gleamed as he set to work, and within moments, thick layers of hide began to peel away under his practiced hands.
He moved with a quiet efficiency, every stroke deliberate. His blade slid under the bear's tough skin with precision, carving out slabs of meat, separating hide from flesh. The beast's thick fur, dark and coarse, was pulled back with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times. He worked quickly, yet carefully, ensuring nothing was wasted.
Aeryn's gaze narrowed, her curiosity piqued. He was no ordinary boy—there was no hesitation, no clumsiness in his movements. Each cut was measured, each decision instinctual. The claws—sharp and menacing—were expertly removed, stored away as valuable materials. The hide, nearly as thick as stone, was rolled up neatly. It was worth a small fortune. Anyone in the Forsaken Legion would know the value of Ursok hide; it could withstand blades, even arrows. Fifty gold, at least. Enough to buy comfort for years.
Lucan wiped his brow, surveying his work. His knife flicked with precision, cutting through the sinew and tendons with the same ease as it had the thick pelt.
Aeryn lingered in the shadows, watching him with a newfound interest. There was something about the way he moved, the way he handled the carcass—too calm, too practiced for someone his age. Most recruits would have barely survived, let alone taken down and skinned a beast like this.
A faint smile quirked at the corners of her mouth as she observed Lucan's skillful movements, illuminated by the last traces of daylight peeking through the thick trees. Not bad at all, thought the woman, impressed by the youngster's abilities.