BLOOD OF THE ARCANE

Aziz's pov 

We moved single file through the hush of the wet forest, last night's rain dripping from the canopy. Mist curled around my boots like pale snakes. 

Every so often, a cold drop slid down my neck, but I ignored it. My focus stayed on finding a way out of the forest.

Behind me, her voice needled at my skull.

"So if someone has Arcane, does that mean they can't die? I heard Arcane-blooded heal from anything, right?"

A branch cracked under my heel. I bit down on the curse that rose in my throat.

"No."

I shoved aside wet ferns, ducked under a limb heavy with moss. She almost crashed into me when I stopped, squinting at a patch of scraped bark and a muddied print I didn't really trust. 

I grunted, gave a confident nod, and kept moving branches closing behind us like the forest knew I was bluffing.

"Why is it," she asked, her curiosity sharp and pressing, "that only royal blood holds the Arcane?"

"Quiet."

I didn't turn. My voice stayed flat a blade, just before it cuts.

She shut up for exactly two steps. Then:

"Could you teach me? The Arcane, I mean. Just a little? I'd learn fast—"

I spun so fast she almost slammed into my chest. I caught her elbow before she toppled into the ferns.

"Do you ever shut up?"

She blinked, mouth open, rain dripping from her lashes.

"I just want to know…."

We paused at a mossy log half-swallowed by brambles. I needed a break from her questions before my head split open.

So I dropped my pack in the mud and jerked my chin at the log.

"Sit. You want answers? Fine. But one at a time or I'm walking off and leaving you for the crows."

She plopped down so fast she nearly slipped off the slick bark, hugging her knees, eyes locked on me like a pup begging scraps.

I crouched low, fingers tracing a line in the damp dirt, pretending not to notice her watching.

Her eyes glinted with that knowing edge, like she already had my secrets figured out.

I touched my chest, muscles tight.

The air thickened.

My skin prickled.

"Arcane's in the blood," I said. "Not magic you snap on. You gotta earn it make it yours."

She smirked, eyes narrowing.

I clenched my fist. A faint glow flickered under my skin, a spark that tasted like fire and bone.

"Push too hard…" I exhaled, voice rough, "and it burns you from the inside out."

Her smile widened, eyes bright with challenge.

Then her voice became softer: "Could you teach me?"

I almost smiled back. Then I stood and lifted my pack onto my shoulder again. "Enough talk. Help me find a clearing big enough to call my friend."

She spotted Sefu pacing by the tree line and let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Oh, you've got a friend ? 

I shot her a glare. "Don't annoy me, woman."

I stepped closer, words stuck on the edge of my tongue.

Then I remembered the gun. I swung my pack around, pulled it out, and held it up between us. Her smirk died instantly.

She stared at it, then at me, eyes narrowing like she could peel the truth off my skin. Her mouth opened, but I cut her off.

"Where did this come from?"

She blinked, voice caught between a hiss and a whisper.

"Where did you get that?"

I flipped the revolver in my hand, barrel pointing at the ground.

"Bandit had it. Tried to use it on me didn't end well for him."

She took a step back, arms crossed tight over her chest.

For a heartbeat she just stared, then her jaw clenched so hard I heard her teeth grind.

"Weapons like that burned my village to the ground.

My father died dragging me out from under the roof when it fell."

Silence wrapped around us, heavy and mean. I slid the gun back into my pack, throat tight.

"I'm sorry.

No one should lose home like that."

She let out a rough bark of laughter, wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

"So the royal cub does have feelings. Thought you lot were born wearing iron under your ribs."

I snorted despite myself. "Laugh all you want. I'm serious. Who's selling these? Who's putting them in filth's hands?"

She shook her head, humor gone. "No one's selling them."

I stepped closer, voice dropping. "What do you mean no one's selling them?"

She jabbed a finger into my chest, hard enough to make my breath catch. "I mean they're being handed out. 

Free. To every pirate, slaver, and piss-blood mercenary too stupid to swing a proper blade. Somebody wants this land to bleed dry."

A cold knot formed in my gut. "Do you know who's doing it?"

She shoved my chest again, but softer this time. "Yeah. And their camp's not far two ridges west, half a day's walk if you stop whining."

I watched her stomp ahead through the ferns, muttering curses at brambles snagging her trousers.

Father…

A tight ache pinched behind my ribs. I'm sorry. You'll have to hold on a little longer. I can't leave this yet.

She turned, hands cupped around her mouth.

"Come on, hero! I can't handle a whole nest of gun-runners alone!"

I huffed a breath, shouldered my pack tighter, and followed.