Rowan ran as fast as his legs could carry him, the sharp cracks of twigs and the crunch of leaves underfoot barely audible over the thundering sound of his heart. The cold air stung his lungs, and every step seemed to bring the growls of the orcs closer. The forest around him was a blur of dark shapes and shadows, the trees towering like sentinels over a maze he had no hope of escaping.
Suddenly, his foot slipped on a patch of wet earth, sending him tumbling down a steep slope. He tried to grab hold of something, anything, but his hands only found air as his body was tossed against rocks and roots. Pain shot through his leg as he hit the bottom, a jagged stone catching him just below the knee. A sharp, piercing agony flared up his leg, and he let out a groan, clutching the injured limb.
For a moment, everything was still. The night around him seemed quieter, though the distant growls of the orcs still echoed through the trees. Rowan's breath came in shallow, painful gasps, and he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus through the pain. His hand instinctively reached for the golden orb of light, the one small source of hope that had guided him through the dark. But when he opened his eyes and looked down at his palm, the light was gone.
Panic surged through him, a cold realization settling into his bones. The orb—the strange, glowing ball of energy that had saved him before—had disappeared. His one chance of escape, of protection, was no longer there.
He slumped back against a tree, his chest tightening with despair. The pain in his leg was almost unbearable, but worse than that was the knowledge that the orcs were still out there, hunting him. He could hear them moving closer, their heavy footsteps rustling through the underbrush as they searched the area. If they found him, it was over. There would be no mercy.
Rowan closed his eyes, trying to suppress the growing sense of hopelessness. His thoughts raced back to the books he had read in the library—the pages filled with spells and magic, all of which had seemed useless at the time. But now, in the face of certain death, something stirred in the back of his mind.
A phrase. Just a few words he had skimmed over. He hadn't understood it then, but now, it was all he had. The memory of the text was hazy, but Rowan clung to it, repeating it under his breath, hoping it might offer some kind of protection.
The footsteps were closing in. His heart pounded louder, his breath shallow as the fear tightened in his chest. He could hear the orcs now, grunting to each other in their harsh language. And then, the sound stopped.
Rowan slowly opened his eyes, his heart racing as he lifted his head. Just a few feet away, standing at the edge of the slope, was a massive orc, its grotesque features illuminated by the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. Its eyes, glowing with a faint yellow hue, scanned the area, and its large nostrils flared as it sniffed the air.
Rowan's body froze, every muscle tensing as he fought the instinct to move. The orc was so close, close enough to see the slight rise and fall of his chest. He could barely breathe, barely think, as he waited for the inevitable.
The orc's gaze lingered on him, and for a terrifying moment, Rowan was certain it had seen him. The creature took a step closer, its massive frame looming over him, and Rowan shut his eyes tight, bracing for the end.
But then, the orc paused. It grunted softly, straightened up, and turned away. "No one here," the orc muttered to itself in its guttural tongue. It took a few steps back, then called out to the others, "Nothing. Keep moving."
Relief flooded through Rowan as he heard the orc general's voice cut through the night. "Leave it," the general growled, his voice deep and commanding. "The humans will soon face their doom. One runaway is nothing for our future plans."
Rowan waited until the sounds of their footsteps faded into the distance, his entire body trembling with a mixture of relief and confusion. He was alive. Somehow, despite the odds, he had survived. But how? What had stopped the orc from seeing him? And what were these "future plans" the general spoke of?
For several minutes, Rowan remained where he was, too shaken to move. His leg throbbed with pain, and every breath felt like it could shatter the fragile calm that had settled around him. But he had to move. He had to understand what had just happened.
As if in response to his thoughts, the golden orb reappeared, floating gently before him. This time, it didn't flee when he reached for it. Instead, it hovered closer, then slowly drifted toward his chest. With a soft pulse of light, it merged with him, sinking into his body like a warm, comforting embrace.
A sudden rush of energy flooded through Rowan, and in that moment, everything became clear. The knowledge he had gained from the library—the spells, the theories, the magic that had once seemed distant and foreign—now made sense. It was as if the orb had unlocked something deep inside him, something that connected him to the magic of this world.
Still lying on the forest floor, Rowan raised his hand, hesitating for only a moment before focusing on a simple spell he had read about—one that conjured a small flame. He concentrated, feeling the warmth in his chest spread to his fingertips, and with a flick of his wrist, a tiny flame appeared in his palm.
He stared at it in disbelief, the fire flickering softly in the night air. It was real. He had done it. Magic was real, and it was now a part of him.
For the first time since arriving in this strange world, Rowan felt a glimmer of hope. He had power, even if it was small. And with that power, he could survive.
A smile tugged at his lips, but it was short-lived as a sharp pain shot through his leg, reminding him of the injury. He winced, clutching his leg, the adrenaline from his escape fading as the pain came rushing back. He wouldn't be able to walk far, not without help.
With a heavy sigh, Rowan extinguished the flame and leaned back against the tree. The night had been long and dangerous, but he had survived. He had faced death and come out on the other side. But now, as the first rays of dawn began to break through the canopy above, he knew his journey was far from over.
Morning was coming, and with it, a new set of challenges. He needed to find his way back to Stagpeak, to figure out what the orcs were planning and how he could stop them. But for now, he had to rest. He had survived the night—that was enough.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, casting warm light over the forest, Bash forced himself to stand, wincing as he put weight on his injured leg. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and then began the slow, painful journey back toward Stagpeak. Each step was a reminder of the trials he had faced and the challenges still to come.
But now, with the golden orb inside him and the knowledge of magic at his fingertips, he was ready to face whatever awaited him. The path ahead was uncertain, but Rowan Hale was no longer just a lost traveler. He was something more, and he would not be stopped.