The Oath of Equilibrium was shattered, " Orin gnarl. "When the elementals turned on each other, nature itself set about to travel out. " He gestured at the land. "The storms. The earthquake. The shifting tides. This is what happens when the military unit of the earthly concern refuses to resist together. "
Kael's affectionateness pounds. "So how do we fix it? "
Orin was silent for a tenacious consequence. Then, he turned to her, his reflection unreadable.
"The only way to restore correspondence, " he pronounced quietly, "is to rule out the Chosen of Shadow. "
Kael inhaled sharply.
"The Gojo Clan, " Orin continued. "They withstand the winter. Somewhere among them, the Shadowborne have chosen a new host—someone knock-down plenty to tip the plate entirely in their party's favor. If we don't find them first…"
He didn't finish.
He doesn't have to.
Kael swallowed hard and stared out at the broken world before her.
The darkness at the bound of the ruins seemed darker immediately. Watching. Waiting.
And for the initiative clip, she wondered—if Shadow thaumaturgy could exact anyone weakly enough to be required…
What if the host didn't yet know they had already been chosen?
The wind carried the scent of damp leave-taking and the faint whisper of shifting branches.
Kael tightens her cloak around her, glancing over the skyline. The landed estate stretched unceasingly, scorched and broken, its wounding deep from the ancient war.
An unusual heaviness hangs in the air, pressing against her skin like unseen hands.
"This place…" She swallowed. "It isn't finger secure. "
Orin persisted dumbly, his gaze fixed on the aloof Hill. The muscularity in his jaw flipped—he had palpated it, too.
"We need to go away, " she said, releasing him. "Now. "
Orin exhaled slowly and then gave a firm nod. "Agreed. "
And then they walked.
The journey was not easy. Each day, the Sun blazes out mercilessly, entirely to be superseded by acid, freezing nights. The demesne seemed to shift under their feet as if to disapprove of their presence.
Streams dried up before they could reach them, and the paths twisted in a mode that made no sense.
Through it all, Orin postulated charge. He hunted when food was scarce, constituted fires against the relentless frigidity, and screened Kael from dangers she didn't always envision.
When her legs get rickety, he leaves her residue. When she bumbled, he steadied her without a word. He never complained, ne'er hesitated.
And Kael watched.
Orin was strong—not just in consistency, but in a mode that got to her palpate… safe.
She hates that.
By the eighth day, enfeeblement had determined late in Kael's bones. The trees had grown taller, their outgrowth clawing at the sky like ancient digital.
The world was quiet, too quiet as if nature itself was holding its breath.
That's when they encountered it.
A sole black horse stood in the clearing ahead.
Kael suspended. The creature was unlike any she had always ascertained. Its coating glistens artificially, drinking in the light sort of than reflecting it.
Its head of hair rippled as though charm in a breeze that didn't exist. The air around it shimmered, loggerheaded with something unseen.
It was watching them.
Orin's hands instinctively went to his artillery. "That's not an ordinary horse. "
Kael's heart rate quickened. "It's a waitress for something. "
As if in response, the horse lifted its head—and suddenly, the background beneath them trembled.
Images flooded Kael's idea. Apparition curling around ancient ruins. A trope draped in dark, standing where no visible radiation could reach.
And the sawhorse—this horse cavalry—standing beside them as if obliged by fate.
A voice distant and chilling, echo through the trees.
"When the Veil is thinnest, the Midnight Steed shall appear. It bears the mark of the Forgotten and chars the Chosen to their destiny—whether to redemption or ruination. "
Kael's breath hitched.
"The Midnight Steed…" Orin's part was low, almost reverent.
Kael turns to him, her heart hammering. "This Equus caballus was the name of the black horse … it's tied to the Shadow Chosen. "
Orin's suitcase tightened on his blade.
Because the prophecy had been clear.
The last time the Equus callubus was seen, the world was ne'er the same again.
And now, it has returned.
The silence feels unnatural.
Kael's fingertip breadth curls up into the moist earth, her heart still unsteady from the mess of the black Equus caballus.
Orin stood a few feet forth, his stance loose but his gaze sharp. They had spent eight days in the wilderness, but ne'er had the air experience so. . . hollow.
A cool breeze tramp past, rustling the trees. It should have been a solace. It wasn't.
"It's over, " Orin mumbled. "Whatever that thing was, it's gone now. "
Kael nodded, though unease still eroded at her. She peeks at the sky. The drab clouds from earlier had begun to break apart, slivers of light peeking through. Maybe—
Then, the whisper came.
Low, eerie, like the wind itself was speaking.
The temperature plummeted. A crisp pressure campaign against her chest. The trees groaned as the ground beneath them pulsed. Orin's head busts up, his jaw tightening.
So—the sky twisted.
A vortex of black wind roars to biography, spiraling with an unnatural force. Shadowy tendrils slithered through the air like grasping fingers.
Orin's voice was sharp. "Kael, move! "
She turned to incline, but it was too recent. The tempest howled, tearing through the earth.
The wind yanked her up. Her howler receded in the ferocity of the dark spirit
tornado.
Then—darkness.
The crash leaves them battered, but alive.
Orin and Kael stick out at the edge of a vast, stark county, where scraggy rock formations adulterate the sky.
The air travel was compact with dust, and the tip carried the scent of dry earthly concern. No sign of the zodiac of civilization. No clear elbow room out.
Kael perpetrates her cloak tighter, debilitation weighing on her. "Where… are we? "
Orin remained silent, raking the apparent horizon. His instinct told him they were being watched. He scarcely couldn't prove it.
For daylight, they vagabond. Water was scarce, and food yet more. Thus, Orin managed to hunt modest desert hares, but firewood was grueling to find.
Kael, notwithstanding recovering from their journey, renders to keep up, though her steps mature weaker.
One evening, Orin wordlessly handed her the utmost piece of desiccated meat.
She lowered. "Aren't you going to eat? "