"Qoruth, we should get going." I said softly, keeping my tone calm but firm. "One of them escaped, and we don't know if he'll bring reinforcements." It had already been an hour since our confrontation with that group, and we were running out of time.
The altercation left devastation in its wake. A strong metallic stench permeated out of the corpses that lay sprawled among the landscape.
The scene before us clashed starkly with the pristine beauty of the high mountain peaks surrounding it. It felt disturbingly out of place, as though our actions had marred this untouched landscape, leaving a scar on nature's canvas.
Qoruth had spent the past hour deep in prayer.
The Drak'Thar believed in a god named Thra'kael, the Eternal Guide, protector of souls and guardian of the afterlife. Qoruth prayed fervently, asking that both Shal and Shenak would find safe passage to the afterlife and that Thra'kael would watch over them, leading their spirits with mercy and grace.
Shenak had died, his life slipping away before either Qoruth or I could reach him. The archer's arrow had struck swiftly and fatally, leaving no time for rescue. As the dust settled around us, only Qoruth and I remained, surrounded by the silence that follows battle.
Near the end of the skirmish, I'd seen the archer retreat into the shadows, his movements quick and deliberate. Perhaps he realized he was outmatched, or maybe his mission was already accomplished. Either way, it was clear he intended to vanish, likely to report the bloodshed he had witnessed and the lives he'd claimed.
We pressed onward, climbing the rugged mountain trail for another two hours, hoping the winding path and altitude would shield us from that elusive archer. Each step grew heavier, and every strained breath felt worse than the previous one.
Finally, we stumbled into a small clearing near a narrow, winding river, its gentle babbling the only sound breaking the stillness. I dropped beside the riverbank, feeling the cold seeping into my skin, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered from the fight. My body ached all over, every bruise and cut throbbing in time with my heartbeat. With the adrenaline slowly ebbing, drowsiness settled over me, like shadows stretching across the mountains at dusk, dark and relentless.
The arrow was still lodged in my chest, the aching pain intensifying with every breath. I hadn't dared pull it out, fearing blood loss , which would drain my strength even further. For now, I could only hope it would hold, even as each heartbeat reminded me of its presence. The journey ahead felt longer than ever, yet rest was a luxury we couldn't afford.
Qoruth and I settled beside the riverbank, arranging a small pile of branches I'd gathered from the nearby trees. I carefully struck Qoruth's trident against a flat-edged stone I'd found along the shoreline, coaxing a spark to catch on the dry wood. The fire flickered to life, its warmth gradually pushing back the mountain chill as twilight settled around us. As the flames grew, casting a faint, warm light over the clearing, I kept feeding it small branches to ensure the fire would last because too much smoke to reveal our position.
After a moment's rest, Qoruth reached into his pack and withdrew a narrow, weathered blade. Without a word, he held it above the fire, letting the metal absorb the heat until it began to glow faintly. He knew as well as I did what came next: the arrow still lodged in my chest would have to come out. The heated blade would be our only means to stop the bleeding once it did.
I steadied my breath, preparing myself for the pain to come. The warmth of the fire against my skin reminded me how precarious our situation was, yet here, at least, we had a chance. The heat of the blade would sear the wound shut. Qoruth's eyes met mine, steady and unwavering, offering a silent promise that he'd see this through. When I gave a nod, he gripped the arrow's shaft, bracing for the pull.
The next moment, a sharp, blinding pain tore through me as Qoruth yanked the arrow free from my chest. The agony was immediate and searing, my vision blurring as I struggled to keep from crying out. Without wasting a second, he pressed the heated blade against the wound, the scorching metal sealing the torn flesh with a hiss and a surge of fresh pain. He moved swiftly, pressing the blade to both the front and back of my chest, stifling the bleeding as best he could.
The blade would leave a scar, but only temporarily—a fleeting mark before my tailored genetics erased it, like waves washing away sand. I could already feel my body working to repair itself, slowly mending the torn tissue and knitting together muscle fibers beneath the skin. My Superior Genetic Lineage, passed down from the esteemed House of Solis, was the only reason I could still function with a collapsed lung and an arrow lodged deep within me. Any other being might have succumbed, but my body, sculpted by generations of precise genetic tailoring, held me together. Even my lung would gradually restore itself, the damage knitting together from within as my cells set to work.
Qoruth seemed confused as he watched in quiet awe as the burn marks began the slow process of healing, visible in the subtle shifts beneath my skin. As painful as it was, I took comfort in the knowledge that my strength ran more profound than mere physical resilience—it was a gift of my heritage, a reminder that I carried a portion of Solis's legacy with me in every cell, every heartbeat.
Thanks for the help, Qoruth," I managed, my voice still tight with pain. "Without you, this would have been a lot worse."
Qoruth looked at me; his expression softened with quiet respect. In a low voice, he replied, "You've helped me greatly as well. You tended to my wounds after the battle, even as your own went untreated. And you kept watch while I prayed to Thra'kael… that is not a favour I'll soon forget."
Over the next few hours, as we ascended the rugged mountain terrain toward the Aetheris Institute of Enlightenment, Qoruth and I found ourselves growing more acquainted. His stories filled the silence between us, and I listened with genuine curiosity. Qoruth was nearly sixteen standard years old and hailed from a small, distant planet called Thrux, nestled within the upper Perseus.
The Drak'Thar, his people, were an ancient race, their lineage stretching back long before the Stellar Severance—a catastrophic event that had shaped civilizations across the stars. Although they were one of the galaxy's older known species who had sentience before the Stellar Severance, it wasn't until 32,022 C.D. that the Drak'Thar truly began to flourish as a spacefaring race. Their advancements had been swift and impressive, though shaped by a history that, Qoruth admitted, was as scarred as it was proud.
As the hours passed, I found myself opening up more, sharing fragments of my own life in return. I told him about my upbringing, the rigorous expectations of my lineage, and the legacy of the House of Solis. I spoke of Aurea and the ideals she represented, the guiding light of our people—a figure who was both a comfort and a weight upon my shoulders.
Qoruth listened intently, his gaze steady and unjudging, which encouraged me to go on. For the first time in a long while, I felt the relief of speaking freely, of sharing pieces of myself without the usual veil of formality. The harsh mountain air, the endless trail, and the sheer isolation of this journey made our exchange feel raw and unguarded, as though the peaks around us had stripped away all pretense.
In that strange way, our shared stories began to ease the physical strain of the climb. Each tale became a marker on our path toward the Aetheris Institute, reminding me that, perhaps, I wasn't as alone on this journey as I had once believed.
As our conversation neared its end we saw a grand arch looming above us, its ancient stonework glowing faintly in the evening dusk, casting a soft, ethereal light that illuminated the path ahead. This was it—the entrance to the Aetheris Institute of Enlightenment. For a moment, both Qoruth and I stood in awe, taking in the sight as the quiet mountain air settled around us like a held breath.
I turned to Qoruth, a small smile breaking through the exhaustion etched on my face. "We've finally made it," I said, my voice carrying both relief and a hint of triumph. He returned the smile, his eyes reflecting the same unspoken gratitude and resolve.
"Let's go," I added, nodding toward the archway. Together, we stepped forward, passing under the arch and into the unknown mysteries waiting beyond.