The bandit camp came into view like a blight on the forest, a cluster of tattered tents and smoking fires nestled within a clearing. A crude perimeter of sharpened stakes marked their territory, but no guards were posted. Confidence or carelessness—it didn't matter. The clearing buzzed with life as twenty figures moved about, some sharpening weapons, others laughing over mugs of ale.
Bandit's POV
Mickel leaned back against a felled tree, taking a long drag from his pipe as he surveyed the camp. The scent of burning herbs mixed with the acrid smoke of the fire pits. Around him, the other bandits were a blur of voices and motion, but Mickel's focus was on the pouch of Arcanum resting heavily on his lap. He opened it slightly, letting the faint glow of the Etherium coins dance in the firelight.
"Never thought I'd be this rich," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
"Don't get too comfortable, Mickel," snapped a wiry man named Tarn, sitting on a boulder nearby. His scarred face twisted in a smirk. "You flash those coins too much, and someone's gonna help themselves."
Mickel snorted. "You think I'm stupid, Tarn? I sleep with one eye open, unlike half the drunkards here." He nodded toward a group laughing raucously by the fire.
"I'd kill for that problem," chimed in Jeska, a woman cleaning her dagger with a rag. Her auburn hair fell in wild strands across her face. "Once this haul's sold off, I'm gone. No more hiding in the woods, eating rabbit stew, and dodging Flow Knights."
"Where you planning to go, Jeska?" asked Lenn, the youngest of the group, his voice laced with curiosity. "You're always talking about leaving, but where to?"
Jeska's eyes gleamed. "Somewhere civilized. A city where I can blend in, find a nice little shop, and live like a queen. You ever see a Flow crystal chandelier, Lenn? I'll have one in every room."
Mickel barked a laugh. "A queen with Etherium coins to burn, huh? That'll last all of five minutes before some noble decides to take what's yours."
Jeska shrugged, her grin unshaken. "Let them try."
Tarn rubbed his hands together. "You all dream too small. Me? I'm heading for the Ironwood Highlands. Heard there's a mercenary crew up there looking for talent. Big pay, steady work."
Jeska raised an eyebrow. "Mercenary work? Sounds a lot like being a bandit but with shinier armor."
"Maybe," Tarn said with a smirk. "But mercs don't have to run every time a Flow Knight comes sniffing around. That's worth something."
Mickel gestured toward a massive chest near the central tent. "Speaking of pay, what's the haul worth, Jeska? You tallied it yet?"
Jeska leaned back, her dagger glinting in the firelight. "Lumen coins, Aurals, and a decent amount of Etherium. Enough to make all of us rich—if we don't kill each other first."
Kaidan's POV
Hidden among the shadows just beyond the clearing, Kaidan crouched silently, his mismatched eyes narrowing as he listened. The bandits' words painted a picture of wealth he could hardly fathom. Etherium coins, more than a handful of them. His breath caught, and his heart thudded against his ribs.
His fingers brushed the edge of the Shadowclaw Panther hide covering his face, and a faint memory surfaced.
Flashback: A Lesson in Value
Kaidan sat cross-legged on the floor of their modest home in Kaelith, his mother's soft voice filling the room. She held a small Etherium coin in her hand, its dark surface glittering faintly in the dim light.
"This," she said, holding it up, "is worth more than most people make in a year. It's not just currency—it's power. See this glow?" She tilted it, and the light refracted off the embedded crystals. "That's the Flow within. It's what makes the Arcanum so valuable. Never forget that."
"But why do people fight over it?" young Kaidan asked, his mismatched eyes wide.
"Because power always comes with a price," she replied softly, tucking the coin away. "And those who can't earn it will always try to take it."
Back to the Present
Kaidan shook off the memory and refocused on the camp. His hand rested on the hilt of his short sword, but he didn't move to draw it. Instead, he watched, his muscles tense and ready.
He had learned patience from the Shadowclaw Panthers. Months of being hunted by them had taught him to step lightly, to read the wind, and to strike without warning. Tonight, those lessons would serve him well.
Silently, Kaidan began his approach, slipping between the trees and into the camp's outskirts. His movements were precise, his footsteps soundless. He avoided the firelight, sticking to the shadows where the flickering flames couldn't betray him.
As he reached the central tent, his mismatched eyes fixed on the chest Jeska had pointed to earlier. The wealth it contained could change everything—if he could get to it.
A twig snapped beneath his foot, the sound impossibly loud in the stillness.
"Who's there?" barked Tarn, his hand flying to the hilt of his blade.
The camp fell silent. Twenty pairs of eyes turned toward the shadows, their suspicion palpable. Kaidan froze, his heart pounding.
And then, from the darkness, a low growl echoed—the unmistakable sound of a panther.
Cliffhanger Ending
Kaidan's mind raced as the bandits drew their weapons, their eyes scanning the treeline. His breath was steady, his hand tightening on his sword. Not now. Not yet.
Another growl came, closer this time.
"Kaidan Solivare," a voice whispered in his mind, one he hadn't heard in months. It was deep, primal, and laced with menace.
He swallowed hard. No... not now.
The chapter ends with Kaidan's mismatched eyes glowing faintly in the darkness, caught between the bandits and the looming presence of a Shadowclaw Panther.
4o