The village square was alive with the bustle of morning activity. Merchants called out their wares, children darted between stalls, and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air. Yet amid the cheer, Max moved with a deliberate calm, his crimson eyes scanning the crowd for anything unusual. His mind, however, lingered on the orb nestled within his cloak, its faint hum a constant reminder of the power it held.
Kaera's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Max, over here."
She stood near a small cluster of villagers gathered around a notice board. Her green eyes were sharp, her body tense. Max approached, his expression impassive.
"What's caught your attention?" he asked, his voice low.
Kaera pointed to a freshly pinned notice on the board. The symbol of the Shadowthorn Syndicate—a twisted thorn wreath—was stamped at the top. Beneath it was a bold proclamation:
"Wanted: Information on the Crimson Wraith. Reward offered."
Max raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "The Crimson Wraith, huh? That's dramatic."
Kaera shot him a sharp look. "This isn't a joke. They're hunting for someone who matches your... description."
"Good," Max said smoothly. "Let them look. It means I'm making an impression."
Kaera's frustration was evident, but she didn't press further. Instead, she turned back to the notice. "We need to be careful. If they're targeting you, it puts the rest of us at risk."
"Then it's a good thing I can handle myself," Max replied, his tone edged with amusement. He glanced around the square, noting a few unfamiliar faces among the crowd. "But you're right. We should keep an eye on things."
---
Later that day, the group gathered in a private room at the tavern. The air was thick with tension as Kaera laid out a map of the region on the table. Thram leaned over her shoulder, his massive frame casting a shadow across the parchment, while Garrick and Lyria sat nearby, their expressions grim.
"We've got a problem," Kaera began, her tone serious. "The Syndicate's presence in this area is growing. If they're actively hunting for Max, it's only a matter of time before they find us."
Thram grunted. "Let them come. I'll split their skulls like firewood."
"It's not that simple," Kaera said, shaking her head. "They won't come at us head-on. The Syndicate is smarter than that. They'll probe for weaknesses, pick us off when we least expect it."
Max leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "So what's the plan? We can't stay here forever."
Kaera tapped a spot on the map. "There's a safe house a few days' journey from here, deep in the forest. It's well-hidden, and the Syndicate doesn't know about it. We can regroup there and figure out our next move."
"And what about them?" Garrick asked, gesturing toward the villagers outside. "If the Syndicate thinks Max is here, they'll tear this place apart looking for him."
Kaera's jaw tightened. "We'll warn the elder. They can evacuate if necessary."
Max's gaze swept across the group, his expression unreadable. "Fine. Let's move out at first light. But if they come for me, don't get in my way."
Kaera frowned but nodded. "Just don't do anything reckless. We're a team, Max. Remember that."
Max's smirk returned. "Of course. A team."
---
The night passed uneventfully, though Max found himself unable to sleep. He stood by the window of his room, staring out at the darkened village. The orb's energy hummed faintly beneath his cloak, a constant reminder of the power he now possessed.
'They think they understand me,' he thought, his crimson eyes narrowing. 'But they don't. Not yet.'
A faint knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in," he said.
Lyria stepped inside, her movements hesitant. She closed the door behind her and looked at him, her blue eyes searching his face. "Can't sleep?"
"Something like that," Max replied, his tone neutral. "What about you?"
She shrugged, moving to stand beside him. "I guess I'm worried. About the Syndicate, about what's ahead. About you."
Max arched an eyebrow. "Me?"
Lyria nodded, her gaze steady. "You've changed, Max. Since we found that orb, you've been... different. More distant. More..." She hesitated, searching for the right word.
"Focused?" Max offered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Cold," Lyria said softly. "I know you don't like to show it, but I think there's still a part of you that cares. About us. About this team."
Max's smirk faded, replaced by a look of quiet intensity. He turned to face her fully, his crimson eyes locking onto hers. "Don't mistake focus for indifference," he said, his voice low but firm. "Everything I do is for a reason. And if I seem distant, it's because I'm thinking three steps ahead while the rest of you are still on step one."
Lyria's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "Just don't forget that you're not alone in this. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."
Max didn't reply immediately. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm but not unkind. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, though the words carried a hint of finality.
Lyria studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Good night, Max."
"Good night," he replied, watching as she left the room.
As the door clicked shut, Max turned back to the window, his thoughts once again consumed by the orb and the whispers it carried. The game was only just beginning, and Max intended to win—no matter the cost.