Blood Hounds

Kael released Darian's hand, but the weight of their agreement lingered like an iron shackle. Fenrir's growl had faded, but the wolf remained tense, ears alert, hackles raised. He didn't trust Darian. Then again, Fenrir didn't trust most people.

Rhia crossed her arms, eyeing Darian. "So, what now? You've got your deal. Are you actually going to help us, or was that just talk?"

Darian smirked. "Patience, healer. We'll need more than swords if we want to survive what's coming."

Kael exhaled, shifting his grip on his blade. "Then tell us what we're dealing with."

Darian glanced at the symbol he had drawn in the dirt, then wiped it away with a sharp motion. "That thing—whatever it was—isn't acting alone."

Rhia frowned. "You mean there are more of them?"

A shadow passed over Darian's face. "There always are." He turned to Kael, his gaze sharp. "And whatever is after you… it's already close."

Kael felt a prickle at the back of his neck. He didn't like how certain Darian sounded.

Before he could respond, Fenrir tensed. His ears flicked back, his fur bristled. A low, warning growl rumbled from his chest.

Then Kael heard it.

A whisper.

Soft. Faint. Twisting through the trees like a breath of wind.

Kael…

He turned sharply, blade in hand. But there was nothing. Only shadows stretching between the trees.

Rhia paled. "Tell me you heard that."

Darian nodded grimly. "It knows your name."

The whisper came again, closer this time. The temperature dropped. The fire at their camp guttered, dimming until only embers remained.

Fenrir bared his teeth.

Then, out of the darkness, something moved.

A shape—not quite solid, not quite real—drifted between the trees. Its form flickered, shifting between shadow and substance. It had no face, only a shifting void where a head should be. But its voice slithered through the air like silk.

You cannot run, Kael.

Kael's grip tightened on his sword. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, but his voice remained steady.

"I'm not running."

The wraith halted. A ripple passed through its form, as if it hadn't expected that answer.

Then it lunged.

Kael moved on instinct. His blade flashed, cutting through the air. The strike should have connected—but the wraith simply folded around it, reforming an instant later.

Rhia flung out a hand, muttering something under her breath. A spark of silver light flared from her fingertips, but it sputtered out as soon as it touched the wraith. She cursed under her breath.

Darian moved faster than Kael expected. He drew a second dagger—one that glowed faintly with runes etched into the steel—and slashed at the wraith. This time, the creature reeled, hissing as the blade cut into its form.

Kael didn't waste the opening. He adjusted his grip and struck again—this time aiming not for the body, but for the symbol that had flickered within its shifting form.

The blade made contact.

The wraith let out an unearthly shriek. Its form flickered, then collapsed inward, vanishing into the darkness.

Silence fell.

Rhia exhaled shakily. "That… was different."

Darian sheathed his dagger. "It was testing you." He turned to Kael. "And you just proved you can fight back."

Kael stared at the empty space where the wraith had been. He could still feel the echo of its voice, lingering like a half-forgotten dream.

Fenrir pressed against his side, his presence grounding him.

Kael's past had finally caught up to him.

And now, there was no turning back.