Blood Hounds

The corridor narrowed as they moved forward, the air pressing heavier against their skin.

The symbols along the walls pulsed faintly, their eerie glow casting shifting shadows. It almost felt like they were breathing—watching.

Kael's fingers tightened around his sword. Each step felt heavier, like the weight of the past was sinking into his bones.

Something waited ahead.

Fenrir suddenly stopped. His growl rumbled low and deep.

Rhia tensed. "Do you hear that?"

Kael listened.

At first, there was nothing. Then—a whisper.

Faint. Distant. But growing clearer.

Kael…

His blood ran cold.

The voice was familiar.

Rhia's gaze darted to him. "Who—?"

Then the walls shifted.

The symbols flickered, and the stone rippled like disturbed water.

A shape emerged—not solid, not quite shadow. A figure, its edges blurred, its form flickering in and out of focus.

But the eyes—those were clear.

Cold. Piercing. Knowing.

Kael's breath caught.

Because he had seen this face before.

Darian cursed, drawing his dagger. "Of course there's a ghost."

The figure stepped forward, its voice a hollow whisper.

"Kael… you cannot run forever."

Kael's grip on his sword faltered. His pulse thundered in his ears.

Memories—buried and broken—began clawing their way to the surface.

A name. A face. A promise made long ago.

He knew who this was.

And the past he had tried so hard to escape was about to catch up with him.

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