The forest was eerily quiet as Kain and Orin moved through the underbrush, their steps muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves. The sounds of distant birds and rustling branches seemed to fade into an unsettling silence, the air growing thicker with every passing minute.
Kain's mind was still reeling from his encounter with Eira. His memories—his past—felt distant, like fragments of a dream he couldn't fully recall. He couldn't even picture his parents' faces anymore, their voices fading to nothing. It was like a part of him had been ripped away, and he had no choice but to keep moving forward.
"Orin," Kain muttered, his voice rough. "How am I supposed to survive this? I don't remember... I can't remember."
Orin glanced over at him, his eyes filled with a mix of understanding and hard resolve. "You're still you, Kain. It's just the things you don't need to remember that are gone. You've got what's important left—your will, your instincts, your fight."
"Instincts," Kain repeated bitterly. "I don't feel anything anymore."
The older man slowed his pace, motioning for Kain to stop. He leaned in, his voice low but urgent. "Stay alert. We're not alone."
Kain froze, his senses sharpening. It wasn't just the feeling of being watched; it was more than that—an almost tangible presence creeping up from all sides.
Orin's hand went to his blade, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees with practiced caution. "We've got company."
Suddenly, a rustling came from behind them, followed by the unmistakable snap of a twig underfoot. Orin spun around, sword drawn, but nothing emerged from the trees.
"Did you hear that?" Kain whispered, his heart hammering in his chest.
Orin nodded slowly. "They're toying with us."
Before Kain could ask who "they" were, a voice echoed through the trees.
"Orin, you always were predictable," it said, silky smooth, yet laced with menace. "And this is the boy who would change fate? How quaint."
Kain's stomach lurched as a figure stepped from the shadows. She was tall, cloaked in a dark garment that seemed to absorb the light around her. Her face was obscured by a hood, but Kain could feel the weight of her gaze. She exuded power—an unsettling power that sent a cold shiver down his spine.
"Who are you?" Kain demanded, his voice betraying the fear he couldn't shake.
The figure's lips curled into a smile, sharp and predatory. "I am Elysia, servant of the Weaver. And you, boy, have made a grave mistake."
"Enough talk," Orin said, stepping forward, his sword gleaming in the dim light. "What do you want with him?"
Elysia's smile widened. "What do we want? Oh, nothing much—only the boy's life. After all, it's not every day a mortal awakens the Luck of Gods."
Kain's breath caught in his throat. "What does that mean? What do you want from me?"
Elysia took a step closer, her movements flowing like smoke. "What do the gods ever want from mortals? Everything."
She snapped her fingers, and in an instant, a wave of energy swept through the clearing. The ground beneath their feet cracked open, and the trees around them groaned as though they were alive.
Kain barely had time to react before a massive shadow lunged from the darkness. It was a creature—half-man, half-beast—with eyes that glowed like embers and claws that scraped against the earth as it charged.
"Move!" Orin shouted, grabbing Kain's arm and pulling him away.
The creature roared, its massive jaws snapping shut just inches from Kain's face. He stumbled backward, heart racing as it turned to follow.
Orin slashed his sword through the air, cutting through the creature's attack, but it seemed unfazed. "It's a beast of the Weaver," he grunted. "It won't go down easily."
Kain's mind raced. He couldn't outrun it, and he couldn't fight it alone. He had no choice but to rely on Orin, but how long could the older man hold off this beast?
"Orin!" Kain shouted. "What do we do?"
Orin didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the creature, his stance steady despite the overwhelming odds. "Stay behind me," he said simply.
Kain's hand instinctively went to the sword at his side—the one he'd found in the cavern. The blade felt strangely warm in his grip, almost alive, as if it were reacting to his presence.
"That's it," Orin muttered, noticing Kain's weapon. "You've got it, don't you? The power of the Luck of Gods. It's in you now—use it."
Kain looked down at the sword, his fingers tightening around the hilt. The blade seemed to hum, as if urging him to strike.
But how? He had no idea how to wield such power, how to harness the force that flowed within him.
Elysia's voice rang out again. "It's already too late. The gods have marked you. Your fate is sealed."
The beast lunged again, but this time, Kain didn't hesitate. He swung the blade in a wide arc, his muscles moving on instinct. The sword seemed to obey him, cutting through the air with a speed and precision he couldn't understand.
The creature howled as the blade met its flesh, leaving a glowing gash across its chest. The air crackled with energy as the beast staggered backward, smoke rising from the wound.
For a moment, everything went still.
Then, with a roar, the beast lunged again—but this time, it didn't get far. The sword seemed to act of its own accord, flashing with a bright light, and the creature was thrown back by an invisible force, its body crumpling to the ground in a heap.
Kain stood frozen, his heart pounding, as the creature lay motionless at his feet.
"Well done," Elysia said, her voice laced with a strange mix of amusement and disdain. "But you're not out of the woods yet, boy."
Orin turned, his expression grim. "You've awakened the Luck of Gods," he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the weight of the moment. "Now, you're marked by them. And they won't stop until they have you."
Kain's hands shook as he lowered the sword. "What does that mean? What happens now?"
"It means," Orin said, "we run. Again."
---
End of Chapter Five.