James's lungs burned as he sprinted through the dense forest, each step an act of defiance against the tightening grip of exhaustion. The moonlight filtering through the canopy provided just enough illumination to avoid tripping over roots and debris, but the shadows seemed to shift, conspiring to slow him down. His heart pounded in his chest, not just from exertion but from the lingering fear of pursuit.
The memory of his escape was still fresh in his mind. The look of shock on Aria's face as he broke free of the enchanted cuffs, the chaos of the overturned wagon, and the brief clash with the guards had all blurred together into a single adrenaline-fueled moment. Now, with the elven patrol surely on his trail, there was no time to dwell on details. His only focus was survival.
He ducked under a low-hanging branch, wincing as it snagged his torn shirt, and pressed on. Every noise in the forest—the rustle of leaves, the snap of a twig—set his nerves on edge. The elves were expert trackers, and James knew he couldn't rely on luck to keep ahead of them for long. He needed a plan.
Slowing his pace, he crouched behind a large boulder and took a moment to catch his breath. The cool night air felt like ice in his throat, but it helped clear his mind. He scanned the area, noting the natural landmarks: a crooked tree to his left, a shallow stream to his right, and the faint outline of a rocky hill in the distance. If he could reach higher ground, he might gain a better sense of direction—and perhaps spot his pursuers before they found him.
James's mind raced as he considered his options. The Heart of Eldarath, safely around his neck, was a powerful tool, but it wouldn't help him much in a confrontation. His newfound knowledge of runic magic was promising, but his skills were rudimentary at best, and he didn't know any spells. He needed more time to refine his abilities, time he didn't have.
As he rose to move, a faint sound reached his ears—the distant murmur of voices. His stomach tightened. The elves were closer than he'd thought. He glanced toward the rocky hill and made his decision. Staying low, he began to make his way toward it, weaving through the underbrush with as much stealth as he could muster.
The climb was steeper than he had anticipated. Loose stones shifted under his boots, threatening to give away his position. James gritted his teeth and pressed on, using roots and jagged outcroppings for support. When he finally reached the summit, he dropped to his stomach and peered over the edge, scanning the forest below.
His heart sank. In the distance, he could make out the faint glow of torches moving through the trees. The patrol was organized, spreading out to cover as much ground as possible. James's eyes narrowed as he counted their numbers—six, maybe seven—all armed and moving with purpose. He had hoped the chaos of his escape would slow them down, but it was clear they were determined to bring him back.
James clenched his fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. He was tired of running, tired of feeling like a pawn in someone else's game. But anger wouldn't solve his problems. He needed to stay calm, to think strategically. If he could create a diversion, he might be able to throw them off his trail long enough to disappear.
Reaching into his inventory, James retrieved a small pouch of alchemical powder he had scavenged during his time in the forest. It wasn't much, but it was highly flammable. Coupled with the dry leaves and twigs scattered around him, it could create a convincing distraction. He worked quickly, setting up a small pile of kindling and sprinkling the powder over it. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a tiny spark of magic—just enough to ignite the makeshift fire.
The flames caught immediately, crackling to life and sending a thin column of smoke into the air. James watched for a moment, ensuring the fire would sustain itself, then began his descent down the opposite side of the hill. He hoped that the patrol would be drawn to the smoke, giving him a precious window of time to put more distance between them.
As he moved, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he found himself glancing over his shoulder more often than he'd like. The forest seemed to close in around him, the once-familiar sounds of wildlife now tinged with an ominous undertone. He forced himself to focus, reminding himself that paranoia wouldn't help him now.
The sound of a snapping twig brought him to an abrupt halt. James's breath caught in his throat as he scanned the darkness. His eyes landed on a figure emerging from the shadows, and his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't one of the elves.
The creature was humanoid but twisted, its limbs unnaturally long and its skin a mottled gray. Its eyes glowed with an eerie yellow light, and its mouth twisted into a snarl as it fixed its gaze on James. A chill ran down his spine as he realized he had stumbled into something far worse than an elven patrol.
The creature lunged, its movements impossibly fast. James barely had time to react, throwing himself to the side as its claws raked through the air where he had just been standing. He scrambled to his feet, drawing his scythe from his inventory in one fluid motion. The familiar weight of the weapon was a small comfort, but he knew he was outmatched.
"Not tonight," he muttered under his breath, tightening his grip on the scythe. The creature lunged again, and James met its attack head-on, swinging the blade in a wide arc. The scythe connected with a sickening crunch, and the creature let out a guttural shriek, stumbling back.
James didn't wait for it to recover. He pressed the attack, channeling what little magic he could muster into the blade. Shadowy tendrils erupted from the scythe, lashing out at the creature and wrapping around its limbs. The creature thrashed and howled, its strength formidable, but James held his ground, pouring every ounce of his willpower into the attack.
Finally, with one last swing, the scythe cleaved through the creature's neck. Its body crumpled to the ground, dissolving into a pool of inky blackness that seeped into the soil. James staggered back, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The fight had taken more out of him than he cared to admit, and he could feel the strain of his earlier exertion catching up to him.
He didn't have time to rest. The commotion would undoubtedly draw attention, and he couldn't afford to be caught out in the open. Forcing himself to move, James sheathed his scythe and continued his flight through the forest, his mind racing with questions. What was that creature? Why had it been here? Why had it not given any XP? And, more importantly, how many more were lurking in the shadows?
As dawn began to break, James finally allowed himself to slow down. He found a small, secluded clearing and collapsed against a tree, his body screaming in protest. The first rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting a golden glow over the forest. For the first time since his escape, James felt a sliver of hope. He had escaped, and he was determined to carve out his path—no matter the cost.