Raine moved quietly, his steps careful on the damp earth. The fires of the caravan still flickered in the distance, sending up thin trails of smoke that curled into the dark sky. Voices had faded into the stillness of the night, leaving only the occasional crackle of burning wood and the restless shifting of horses.
It was time to go.
He had waited too long already. The bounty would spread, whispers traveling faster than the wind. Someone in the caravan would put the pieces together. He wasn't going to wait for that moment.
Sticking to the shadows, he slipped between the wagons, silent as the night itself. His pack was light—nothing but stolen rations, a waterskin, and the clothes on his back.
He could move fast.
Just a few more steps—
A figure shifted ahead of him.
Raine froze.
The scarred man.
He stood near the edge of the clearing, his posture loose, almost lazy. But his stance was too ready. He hadn't drawn a weapon. Hadn't called for others.
But he was waiting.
Raine exhaled slowly, muscles tensing.
A branch snapped behind him.
He turned sharply—
Three figures emerged from the darkness beyond the camp.
Raine recognized them instantly. Not mercenaries. Bounty hunters.
The lead hunter stepped forward, his gait unhurried, the quiet confidence of a man who had done this before. He was broad-shouldered, his hair cropped close to his skull. A longsword rested against his hip, untouched—for now.
"Didn't even make us work for it," the hunter said, shaking his head. His voice was almost amused. Like this was inevitable.
"Could've run hours ago."
Raine swallowed hard, his gaze darting around them. They weren't rushing him. No sudden movements, no raised weapons.
Because they didn't have to.
They had planned this.
His pulse pounded in his ears. The scarred man hadn't just been watching him.
He had been part of the hunt all along.
Raine clenched his fists. "If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already."
The hunter chuckled. "That's true." He tilted his head slightly. Assessing. Measuring.
"The Arcanum wants you alive."
Raine's blood ran cold.
Alive.
A slow breath. A racing pulse.
That meant something worse than death.
Run.
His feet tensed, his body coiled—
The hunter's next words struck like a blade to the ribs.
"You're Abyss-Touched, aren't you?"
The world stilled.
Raine's breath caught.
The word meant nothing to him. But the way the hunter said it—like it was a curse, a brand, a death sentence—sent ice through his veins.
His throat tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The hunter's smirk didn't waver. "Don't you?"
Raine didn't.
But he felt it now.
Something coiling beneath his skin. Something that had been there long before he ever knew to name it.
The scarred man finally spoke. His voice was unreadable, detached.
"It's nothing personal, kid."
Raine's jaw clenched.
Like hell it wasn't.
His legs tensed beneath him—
Move.
A curse. A sharp command.
Footsteps.
They were fast.
Raine sprinted for the trees, the darkness swallowing him as he crashed through the undergrowth. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body protesting from exhaustion, but he didn't stop.
The bounty hunters weren't just following.
They were driving him.
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
Then—the thunder of hooves.
They had horses.
Raine's heart pounded. They were herding him.
Branches tore at his arms as he pushed forward, leaping over fallen logs, weaving through the thick trees. His lungs burned. His legs ached.
The sound of rushing water grew louder.
A ravine.
His chest heaved as he stumbled toward the edge. The ground sloped downward, loose dirt crumbling beneath his boots.
A river cut through the forest, its waters fast and jagged against the rocks.
Trapped.
No.
He skidded to a stop at the ledge, breath ragged. Behind him, the sound of pursuit grew louder.
Nowhere to go.
The hunters were almost here.
Raine turned, pulse hammering. His hands clenched.
Run or fight?
Something stirred.
Not a whisper.
Not a voice.
A feeling.
A pull at the edge of his mind, curling like breath on the back of his neck.
It wasn't human.
It wasn't magic.
It was waiting.
Watching.
Raine's stomach lurched. A sharp, visceral panic gripped him—primal and wrong.
He had felt this before.
In the temple.
In the dark.
Not now.
Not now.
A shadow passed through the trees.
The lead hunter emerged first, sword drawn, his expression calm.
He had already won.
"You can't outrun this, boy."
Raine exhaled, stepping back—his heels just at the edge.
The wind roared up from the water below.
The hunter smirked. "Be smart."
Raine's muscles tensed. His heartbeat slowed.
Then, he moved.
Not forward.
Back.
And let the ravine swallow him whole.