shadows in the night

The night was thick with the scent of wet earth and the faint rustling of unseen creatures. The fire crackled and popped, its warmth a small comfort in the chill that gripped the air. Lira lay awake on her bedroll, her eyes staring at the swirling darkness above her. The stars had long disappeared behind the veils of twilight, their soft glow swallowed by the shadows. The fire's flickering light cast long, twisted shapes across the forest, making the trees look like ancient, gnarled spirits reaching for the sky.

Thorne, ever watchful, sat with his back to the fire, his eyes scanning the woods beyond. His posture was rigid, alert. The tension in his body was palpable, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment. Lira could feel his unease in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure if it was the night's oppressive stillness or the danger that always seemed to hover around them, but the air felt charged, as if something was waiting, watching.

Despite herself, Lira's gaze kept drifting to Thorne. There was something about him—something that set him apart from anyone else she had met. He wasn't just strong or capable. He had this… quiet intensity that radiated off him, a deep, unspoken pain that he kept hidden behind that guarded exterior. She'd seen glimpses of it when he spoke of his past, of the Sunpriests, but he never fully opened up. She understood, though. The burden he carried was not unlike her own. They were both playing roles they hadn't asked for, trapped in fates they hadn't chosen.

After a long stretch of silence, Lira finally sat up, pulling her blanket closer to her shoulders for warmth. "Thorne," she said softly, her voice carrying over the crackling of the fire, "why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Thorne didn't turn, but the slight stiffening of his back told Lira he'd heard. She wasn't sure if it was the question itself or the way she asked it, but something shifted in the air.

"Told you what?" he asked, his voice calm but clipped.

Lira hesitated for a moment before answering. "About the Sunpriests. About who you were. I mean, you've been so secretive about it, and I just… I don't understand why you didn't trust me."

The question hung in the air like a heavy fog. She could feel the weight of it pressing down on both of them. She wasn't accusing him, not exactly, but she needed to know. She needed to understand why he'd kept so much from her.

For a long time, Thorne didn't answer. He stared into the fire, his face cast in shadow, his eyes unreadable. Lira waited, holding her breath. She wanted him to open up, wanted him to explain, to give her something she could hold onto. But nothing came.

Finally, Thorne exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair as if the weight of the question was almost too much to bear. "I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure I could trust you either," he said quietly. His voice was raw, vulnerable in a way Lira wasn't used to hearing. "I've seen too many people—good people—fall for the wrong reasons. I've seen what the Sunpriests are capable of, what they'll do to get what they want. I had to be sure that you weren't just another pawn in their game."

Lira frowned, her mind racing. "And you think I'm one of their pawns?"

"No," Thorne replied quickly, but his voice lacked conviction. "Not now. But I didn't know that before. You didn't know who you were, and neither did I. And that made you dangerous. To yourself. To everyone else."

Lira felt a sharp pang in her chest, her emotions a tangled mess. "I'm still dangerous," she muttered. "I don't know how to control any of this. How am I supposed to save anyone, let alone the world, when I can't even control my own power?"

Thorne turned his head then, his eyes locking onto hers in the dim firelight. "You will," he said simply. "I'll make sure of it."

His words were like a promise, simple but unyielding, and for the first time in days, Lira felt a small flicker of hope. It wasn't much, but it was something. Maybe she wasn't completely alone in this after all.

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of insects in the trees. Lira tried to steady her racing thoughts, but the weight of her responsibility, the looming presence of the Sunpriests, the uncertainty of what Cael would be like—all of it swirled in her mind like a storm she couldn't calm.

Thorne's voice broke the silence again. "You're not the only one who's scared, Lira. I'm scared too."

Lira looked at him, startled. "You? Scared?"

Thorne gave her a small, rueful smile. "I'm not invincible, Lira. I've seen things, done things… things I can't undo. And I know what the Sunpriests are capable of. I know what they'll do to you. To me. I just—"

He broke off, his jaw tightening as if he were holding something back. Lira could see it in his eyes, the unsaid words, the pain he carried. She wanted to ask, to press him, but she stopped herself. This wasn't the time for that. Not yet. Instead, she nodded slowly, understanding more than he knew.

"I'll be okay," she said, though she wasn't sure she believed it herself. "I just need to figure out how to control this… whatever it is inside me."

Thorne's eyes softened. "You will. And when the time comes, you'll be ready. I'll make sure of that."

They both fell silent, the warmth of the fire casting long shadows across the forest. The night seemed to stretch endlessly, and the distant howls of creatures reminded them that the world outside their small camp was dangerous, unpredictable, and full of threats. But in that moment, Lira felt a quiet sense of calm settle over her, as if the world had, just for a moment, slowed down.

Then, in the distance, a rustling sound broke the calm. The hair on the back of Lira's neck stood on end, and she immediately reached for the dagger at her side, her fingers brushing the hilt. Thorne's posture tensed, and his hand moved instinctively toward his weapon as well.

They both listened intently. The sound was faint, but it was growing louder, like something—someone—was moving through the forest. Not an animal, but something… more deliberate.

"Stay close," Thorne whispered, his voice low and urgent. "Get your weapon ready."

Lira's heart began to race. Whatever was out there, it wasn't alone. The presence felt wrong, unnatural, as if something was stalking them from the shadows. The hairs on Lira's arms prickled, and her breath quickened.

Thorne stood, his movements fluid and practiced. "We're not alone."

Lira stood with him, her hand gripping her dagger tightly as the sound drew closer. It was coming from all directions now, the rustling filling the air, surrounding them. There were too many to count, too many to fight off without knowing what they were up against.

Then, out of the darkness, they emerged.

Dark figures, tall and hunched, with glowing eyes that flickered like embers in the night. Their skin was pale, almost ashen, and their limbs were long, too long for any human form. They moved silently, like shadows, their presence a cold, oppressive weight.

Thorne's grip tightened on his blade, and Lira felt her pulse quicken in her throat.

"We're surrounded," Thorne muttered. "Stay close to me."

Lira's breath caught in her chest as the creatures closed in, their glowing eyes fixed on her, their movements predatory. This was no longer just a journey through a broken world—it was a battle for her life.

And the world's fate would depend on how she fought.

The darkness was closing in, and Lira had no choice but to face it head-on.

The fire flickered one last time before it began to die, casting the world around them into shadow.

And then, all hell broke loose.