The days dragged on as they ascended higher into the mountains, the air thinning and growing colder with each step. By the eighth day, the path had become a treacherous maze of rocky outcrops and narrow ledges, forcing the group to move carefully. The weather had turned, and dark clouds rolled in from the north, casting a shadow over the jagged peaks.
Calen's muscles ached from the grueling travel and constant training. Each morning, Seris guided him in honing his magic—making gusts of wind dance around his fingers and coaxing small flames from the tip of his staff. But progress was slow. "The magic within you is wild," Seris had said one night, her glowing eyes reflecting the firelight. "It's untamed, like the wind itself. You must learn to control it, or it will control you."
Ronan, ever the stern instructor, was equally relentless in his combat training. Calen's body was covered in bruises from sparring, but the lessons were invaluable. He learned to dodge, to parry, and to strike with more precision. By the time they reached the pass, he was exhausted but more capable. He had never fought this way before—methodical, instinctive, each movement serving a greater purpose.
But the tension in the air wasn't just from the physical demands of the journey. Calen could feel it—the sense of something watching them from the shadows, lurking just beyond their sight. Even Seris, usually unshaken, seemed on edge, her eyes scanning every corner of the mountain with unsettling intensity.
It was on the ninth morning, just as the sun began to break through the clouds, that they encountered it.
The wind had kicked up, howling through the crags, when the first attack came. A distant crack of rock shattered the silence, followed by a flash of movement. Calen barely had time to react when a shadow leapt from the rocks above, landing in front of them with a heavy thud.
A figure in dark leather armor, masked and hooded, stood between them and the path forward. The stranger moved quickly, a sword already drawn and gleaming in the dim light. They stood with a confident posture, but their eyes—hidden beneath the hood—betrayed a deep caution.
Ronan's hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, his muscles coiling, ready to strike. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice low and tense. "What do you want?"
The figure remained silent for a moment, then let out a short, breathy laugh. "I could ask you the same, old friend."
At that, Ronan's grip tightened on his sword. "Vera?"
The hooded figure's smile widened as she pulled back her hood, revealing the face of a woman with short, dark hair and a scar running down her left cheek. Her eyes were sharp, and though she looked older, there was no mistaking the familiarity in her gaze.
Vera.
"What are you doing here?" Ronan asked, his tone a mixture of disbelief and wariness.
Vera's eyes scanned the group, lingering on Calen. "I could ask the same of you. But I suppose we both know the answer."
Before Ronan could respond, a sharp, high-pitched whistle cut through the air. Another figure appeared from the rocks above, flanked by two more. They were quickly descending on the group, agile and swift, making no sound as they approached.
Calen's heart raced. "Ambush!" he shouted.
Seris's eyes flickered, her silver gaze flashing with energy as she raised her hands, muttering a chant under her breath. The air around her shimmered, and a barrier of wind snapped into existence, blocking the path of the advancing attackers.
Vera's sword flicked out, catching the light as she twisted her body in a fluid motion, fending off one of the attackers with a powerful strike. The man reeled back, but another surged forward, his sword raised high.
Ronan didn't hesitate. With a roar, he lunged at the closest assailant, his sword flashing as it met the enemy's. The two locked in a fierce clash, steel ringing out as sparks flew. Calen took a step back, instinctively reaching for his own sword, though he had no idea if he could actually fight.
"Stay behind me!" Ronan barked, his voice full of authority.
But Calen wasn't about to hide. He charged forward, adrenaline flooding his veins, and swung his sword at one of the attackers. The strike was clumsy, but it was enough to make the assailant stumble back. He was about to swing again when Seris's voice rang out in a calm, commanding tone.
"Focus!" she shouted.
Calen stopped mid-swing, his eyes darting to her. She stood a few paces away, her hands raised as she manipulated the air around them. The gusts that she summoned swirled, sending the attackers off balance. Her magic was unpredictable but potent, creating a whirlwind of chaos. The figures scrambled, trying to regain their footing.
Vera grinned, her blade moving like lightning as she disarmed one of the assailants and kicked him to the ground. "You fight well, Ronan. But this time, I'm not saving you."
Calen's opponent—still reeling from the wind gusts—tried to strike, but Calen ducked under the blow and swung again, this time with more precision. His sword connected with the enemy's side, and the figure collapsed, clutching his wound.
"That's how you do it," Vera called out, a note of approval in her voice.
Before anyone could react, the remaining attackers retreated up the rocky slope, vanishing into the shadows as quickly as they had appeared.
Calen stood, breathing heavily, his sword still gripped tightly in his hand. His mind was racing. Had they just been saved? Or had this all been a test?
Ronan's voice cut through his thoughts. "Vera, what the hell is going on here? Who were they?"
Vera lowered her blade, her expression hardening. "Empire scouts. They've been tracking you for days. They were waiting for the right moment."
Calen's stomach twisted. "How did you know where we were?"
"I've been watching," Vera said, her gaze now fixed on Calen. "And I've heard rumors about you. You're the one they're after."
"What do you mean?" Calen asked, his voice shaky.
Vera's eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something deep in her expression. "The empire's not just after your village. They're after you, Calen. They've sensed your potential—your magic. I'm not sure how yet, but I know they won't stop until they've found you."
The air around them seemed to freeze. The mountains, once serene and distant, now felt like a prison.
Calen's heart pounded in his chest as he exchanged a look with Ronan. There was no turning back now. They were truly in this fight together—and the empire was coming for them all.
With a final glance at the fading shadows of their attackers, Vera stepped forward. "We need to move. And we need to move fast."
As they resumed their journey, the weight of her words settled heavily on Calen's shoulders. They weren't just fighting for Thalewood anymore. They were fighting for their very lives.