Blood Hounds

Kael didn't like Darian.

The man carried himself too smoothly, spoke too carefully. He was the kind of person who only revealed what was necessary—always holding back more than he gave.

But Kael also knew better than to ignore a warning.

The forest had gone still again, but the tension in the air remained. The shadow from before had vanished, yet Fenrir remained uneasy, his ears flicking toward sounds that Kael couldn't hear.

Rhia studied Darian with a careful gaze. "If you know what we're dealing with, then tell us. What was that thing?"

Darian exhaled, rubbing his temple. "You've already felt it, haven't you? The way the air thickens when it's near. The way it speaks—without voice, without form."

Kael's jaw tightened. "You're saying it's not human."

Darian shook his head. "Not even close."

He knelt, drawing a symbol in the dirt with the tip of his dagger. A rough circle, with lines branching outward like twisting roots.

"The old world had names for them," he said. "Wraiths. Echoes. Shades. But names don't matter. What matters is that they don't just kill—they take. They unravel."

Kael exchanged a glance with Rhia. "Take what?"

Darian's steel-gray eyes met his. "Memories. Names. Souls."

Silence stretched between them. The fire had long since died, but Kael felt colder now than he had in the night air.

Rhia crossed her arms. "And how do you know all this?"

Darian smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Because I've seen it before. Fought it before." He tapped the hilt of his sword. "And barely lived to tell the tale."

Kael narrowed his eyes. "Then why are you here? If you know how dangerous it is, why not stay away?"

Darian's expression darkened. "Because there's no 'away' anymore."

That set Kael on edge. "What do you mean?"

Darian stood, dusting off his hands. "I mean whatever's stirring in these woods isn't just lingering here. It's spreading."

A cold weight settled in Kael's gut. He thought of the shadow's whisper, the way it had spoken his name like it knew him. He thought of Fenrir's reaction—the recognition in his golden eyes.

Whatever this was, it wasn't just some passing nightmare.

It was personal.

Darian sighed. "Look, I didn't come here to preach doomsday. I came to offer you a deal."

Kael tensed. "A deal?"

"You want to survive this? You need someone who knows how to fight these things. I've been hunting them longer than I care to admit." Darian's gaze hardened. "But I don't work for free."

Rhia scoffed. "Let me guess. Coin?"

Darian chuckled. "Not quite." His eyes flickered to Kael. "I want to know who you are. And why that thing whispered your name."

Kael felt the weight of their stares on him. Even Fenrir looked up, golden eyes unreadable.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, with a slow breath, he spoke.

"My name is Kael. And I've been running from something for a long time."

He met Darian's gaze, his own steady. "Maybe it's time I stopped."

Darian studied him, then nodded. "Then we have an agreement."

He extended a hand. Kael hesitated for only a moment before gripping it.

And as their hands clasped, Fenrir lifted his head and let out a low, rumbling growl.

Kael felt it in his bones.

This was no ordinary bargain.

It was a pact.

And the price had yet to be paid.