The night stretched long and quiet around them. The cold settled deep in Raine's bones, but it was not the chill that kept him awake.
It was the weight of what had happened.
They had hunted him. Tracked him.
And when they had him cornered—something had shifted.
Something inside him had answered.
He sat near the fire the hooded man had built, watching the embers flicker, their glow pulsing like a slow heartbeat. The flames cast long, shifting shadows against the surrounding trees, twisting in the night's breath.
The hooded man had barely spoken since the fight.
He had simply led Raine deeper into the wilderness, moving with purpose, with a certainty that made Raine uneasy. Now, he sat across from him, sharpening a knife with slow, deliberate movements. The rhythmic scrape of metal against stone was the only sound between them.
The fire cracked, spitting embers into the night air. Raine clenched his fists.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
"Where are we going?"
The man didn't look up. "Somewhere they won't find you."
The words were spoken with the same ease as sharpening the blade, as if neither required thought.
Raine exhaled, frustration creeping beneath his skin. He had barely survived, had felt something wrong take hold of him, had seen grown hunters freeze where they stood—and yet the man acted like none of it mattered.
Like he had expected it.
Raine's fingers dug into the dirt at his side. This man knew something. And Raine was done waiting for him to offer it.
"Who are you?"
The scraping of the blade against stone stopped.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then, the hooded man exhaled through his nose, as if the question itself was exhausting.
"They told you, didn't they?"
Raine frowned. "What?"
The man finally looked at him. Not with impatience. Not even curiosity. With certainty.
"The bounty hunters," he continued, voice low. "They called you something before they tried to drag you back."
Raine hesitated. The word sat in his chest like a weight.
"Abyss-Touched."
The hooded man's expression didn't change. Not in any obvious way.
But there was something—a flicker, just for a breath, before it was buried beneath careful neutrality.
"So they did," he murmured.
Raine's pulse quickened. "What does it mean?"
The man sighed, setting the blade aside. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. The fire cast deep shadows across his face, making his expression harder to read.
"It means they're afraid of you."
Raine exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I haven't done anything."
The man's gaze sharpened. "Haven't you?"
Raine flinched. "I—I don't even know what I did."
The man studied him for a long moment before nodding slightly, as if confirming something to himself.
"Then it's time you learn."
He stood, grabbing a stick from the ground and dragging it across the dirt, marking a long, shallow line.
"Step over."
Raine frowned. "What?"
The man motioned to the line. "Cross it."
Something about the request unsettled him.
But he exhaled and took a step forward—
The man moved.
A blur of motion—too fast.
Raine barely had time to react before he was on the ground, a knee pressing into his chest, the gleam of steel flashing just beneath his throat.
His breath stalled.
The man's voice was calm. Too calm.
"Now tell me—" The knife pressed closer, just enough to feel the edge. "What would you have done, if I were them?"
Raine's heart pounded. He struggled, but the man was too strong, too fast.
There was nothing he could do.
Except—
The pull returned.
A whisper curled at the edges of his mind.
Not words. A sensation.
Like something waiting beneath his skin.
His breath hitched. The air around them thickened, as if reality itself had held still. The fire flickered, its glow dimming for just a moment, stretching shadows across the ground.
The man didn't move.
Didn't speak.
But he saw it.
He felt it.
Then, just as suddenly as he had struck, he let go.
He stepped back, sheathing the blade. "That's what I thought."
Raine pushed himself up, his hands shaking. "What the hell was that?"
The man exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "A lesson."
Raine scowled. "A lesson in what? Getting thrown to the ground?"
The man smirked slightly. "A lesson in surviving. You're too slow."
Raine's pulse still hadn't settled. He could still feel the remnants of whatever had stirred inside him.
The thing he didn't understand.
The man studied him, his smirk fading. "You don't even know what you're touching, do you?"
Raine swallowed. "I don't even know what I am."
The man was quiet for a moment.
Then, finally—he spoke.
"Kael."
Raine blinked.
Kael continued, voice even. "And what you touched back there—what almost answered you—is something the Arcanum has been trying to erase for centuries."
The fire crackled between them.
His expression darkened.
"If you want to live, you need to understand what you are."
Raine's breath was still unsteady.
The Arcanum had feared him. Had marked him for death.
And now, sitting across from him, was a man who knew why.
Kael exhaled, shaking his head. "Come on."
He stood, brushing the dirt from his coat.
"We're close. It's time you meet the ones who can actually help you."
Raine's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
Kael turned, stepping into the darkness of the forest.
"The Weaving Society."
Raine hesitated, then followed.
He didn't trust Kael.
But if there were answers waiting at the end of this path—
He would find them.