The morning sun filtered through the thick canopy of trees, casting long, dappled shadows across the forest floor. Kairon sat by the remains of their campfire, staring into the soft glow of dying embers, his mind a tumult of thoughts. His body ached from the previous night's battle—his arms felt heavy, his legs sore, and his head throbbed from exhaustion. But it wasn't the physical pain that troubled him the most.
It was the power.
The golden light. The energy that had surged from his hands as if it had always been there, just waiting for him to call it forth. It terrified him how natural it had felt. Like an extension of himself, something deep and ancient that had always been a part of him, hidden until now.
And now that it was awake, Kairon didn't know how to put it back.
He glanced over at Elia, who was crouched nearby, sharpening her dagger with slow, deliberate strokes. She seemed unaffected by the battle, as if the fight had been just another routine skirmish in her dangerous life. Her eyes were sharp, focused, betraying no sign of the exhaustion that weighed so heavily on Kairon.
"Does it always feel like this?" Kairon finally asked, breaking the silence that had hung between them since dawn.
Elia didn't look up, her blade scraping rhythmically against the whetstone. "Feel like what?"
"Like you've... unleashed something," Kairon said, searching for the right words. "Something bigger than yourself."
At this, Elia paused. She lifted her gaze from the dagger, her green eyes locking onto his. There was a flicker of something in her expression—understanding, perhaps—but it quickly vanished behind her usual mask of indifference.
"You get used to it," she said simply, returning to her blade. "The power, the adrenaline, the fear. It all becomes a part of you."
Kairon frowned. "But what if it's too much? What if I can't control it?"
Elia sheathed her dagger, rising to her feet in one fluid motion. She walked over to him, her boots crunching softly on the dried leaves beneath her feet. Standing over him, she crossed her arms and looked down with an appraising gaze.
"Then you die," she said bluntly, as if stating a simple fact. "Or worse."
Her words sent a chill down Kairon's spine. He had felt it during the fight—the power inside him was raw, uncontrollable. It had saved his life, yes, but it had also felt wild, as though it could just as easily turn against him if he let it slip from his grasp.
"I don't want this," Kairon murmured, his voice barely audible.
Elia tilted her head slightly, her expression softening just for a moment. "None of us want it," she said quietly. "But we don't always get to choose."
Kairon stared at the ground, the weight of her words settling over him like a heavy cloak. He thought of his village, the peaceful life he had once known, now so far out of reach. And the power... it was a constant reminder that he could never go back to that life, not with what he now carried inside him.
Elia moved away, kneeling down to pack her belongings into her worn leather satchel. "We should leave soon," she said, her tone returning to its usual practicality. "They'll come back. And next time, they'll bring more."
Kairon swallowed hard, nodding silently. He knew she was right. The men who had attacked them wouldn't give up so easily. He could still see the cold look in their eyes, the determination that had driven them to hunt him down. Whoever they were, they were after the power inside him—and they weren't going to stop until they had it.
"Who do you think they are?" Kairon asked, rising to his feet. His muscles protested the movement, but he forced himself to stand tall, unwilling to show weakness.
Elia paused, slinging her satchel over her shoulder as she considered his question. "Could be a number of groups," she said, her voice thoughtful. "Mercenaries, hired by one of the kingdoms. Or a cult—there are always cults looking for ancient magic. But I think it's something bigger."
Kairon's brow furrowed. "Bigger? What do you mean?"
Elia glanced around the forest, her eyes scanning the trees as if searching for something unseen. "The way they moved," she explained, her tone low. "The way they coordinated their attack. That wasn't just a random group of bandits. They were trained. Organized."
Kairon felt a knot of unease twist in his stomach. "So, who's behind them?"
Elia looked him squarely in the eye. "Someone who knows what you are. And someone who knows exactly what they want from you."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Kairon's mind raced. Could it be the kingdoms, as the stranger had warned? Were they already aware of his existence? Or was it something even more sinister?
Kairon took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had spent most of his life believing he was ordinary, nothing more than a hunter from a small village. But now, everything had changed. The power coursing through him, the mysterious enemies hunting him—it was all tied to something far larger than he could comprehend.
Elia glanced at him, reading the conflict in his expression. "You'll figure it out," she said, her voice softer now. "But right now, we need to stay alive long enough to find out who's pulling the strings."
Kairon nodded, his resolve hardening. He didn't fully understand the power within him, but one thing was clear: the only way to survive was to learn how to control it. And for that, he would need time—and allies.
They packed up camp quickly, moving with a sense of urgency. The forest was quiet, the sounds of nature muffled by the oppressive weight of impending danger. Every step felt like it could bring an ambush, every rustle of leaves a prelude to violence.
As they began their trek deeper into the wilderness, Elia led the way, her movements fluid and silent. Kairon followed closely behind, his senses heightened, his mind still buzzing with thoughts of the night before. He couldn't shake the image of the attackers—how they had appeared out of the shadows, relentless in their pursuit.
He had been lucky to survive, but luck wouldn't last forever.
Elia suddenly stopped, her hand raised in a signal for silence. Kairon froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He followed her gaze to a set of footprints in the mud, fresh and deep, leading further into the woods.
"They've been here," Elia whispered, her voice barely audible. "And they're not far."
Kairon's blood ran cold. His hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his knife, though he knew it wouldn't be enough. Not against the forces that hunted them.
"We need to keep moving," Elia said, her eyes scanning the forest ahead. "But be ready. They'll strike when we least expect it."
Kairon swallowed hard, his grip tightening on his weapon. The weight of the situation pressed down on him with every step. He was being hunted—by who, or what, he still didn't fully understand. But the danger was real, and the power inside him was both a blessing and a curse.
As they ventured deeper into the forest, Kairon could feel the tension building, like the calm before a storm. He knew it was only a matter of time before their enemies found them again.
And this time, he wasn't sure if he'd be ready.