Blood Hounds

The air remained heavy even after the wraith was gone, as if something unseen still lingered in the space it had occupied.

Kael forced himself to breathe. His hands still gripped his sword too tightly, but he ignored the ache in his fingers.

Fenrir remained at his side, his golden eyes fixed on the empty darkness beyond their camp. He was still listening. Still watching.

Darian was the first to speak. "You saw it, didn't you?"

Kael glanced at him. "Saw what?"

"The symbol."

Kael hesitated. The wraith had no true form, but for the briefest moment, just before his strike landed, something had surfaced within it. A shape, twisting and ancient, glowing with an unnatural light.

He had aimed for it on instinct. And it had worked.

Darian's expression darkened. "I was right, then. This isn't just a wraith."

Rhia, still catching her breath, looked between them. "What do you mean?"

Darian crouched, drawing the symbol in the dirt. The same one he had erased earlier.

"This mark," he said. "It's not just a sign of the old world. It's a brand." His voice turned grim. "Something marked that creature long before it came after you."

Kael frowned. "Marked by what?"

Darian met his gaze. "By something older. And far worse."

A shiver ran through Kael's spine. The thought settled uneasily in his chest. He had spent years running from one danger to the next, always looking over his shoulder. Always hearing whispers in the dark.

And now, it seemed, something had finally found him.

Rhia studied the symbol, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she reached forward, tracing the lines with her fingers.

The moment her skin touched the dirt, the air shifted.

A pulse—soft but unmistakable—rippled outward from the mark. The embers of the dying fire flickered. Fenrir growled low in his throat.

Then Rhia jerked back, as if burned.

Darian's gaze snapped to her. "What was that?"

Rhia clutched her hand to her chest. Her breathing was uneven, her eyes distant. "I don't know," she murmured. "But… something was there."

Kael stepped toward her. "Something?"

She shook her head. "A presence. A memory. It wasn't mine, but it felt…" She exhaled sharply. "It felt old."

Darian muttered a curse under his breath. "This is worse than I thought." He looked back at Kael. "You're tied to this thing somehow. And whatever's hunting you—whatever's leaving these marks—it's not finished yet."

Kael felt the weight of Darian's words settle over him.

No. He had known this for a long time.

The past never truly stayed buried.

Rhia flexed her fingers, staring at the mark. "We need answers."

Darian nodded. "Then we start at the source."

Kael met his gaze. "And where is that?"

Darian's smirk was sharp. "Where all old things go to be forgotten."

He stood, brushing dirt from his hands.

"We're going to the ruins."