Chapter 6 – Shadows in the Wilds

The journey had grown quieter as the days passed. The once-constant rustle of wildlife had disappeared, replaced by an eerie stillness that hung in the air. Every mile we rode felt as if we were being watched, the very forest around us seeming to hold its breath. Seraphine had sensed it long before I did—the magic of the land had shifted, dark forces stirring in the unseen corners of the world.

We had reached a small village nestled at the base of the mountains—a quiet place known for its skilled blacksmiths. The village's reputation as a supplier of high-quality weapons had spread across the land, especially among those who traveled through dangerous territories. Seraphine had insisted we stop here to prepare for the perilous stretch of land we were about to enter—no man's land, a desolate area inhabited by sorcerers, outlaw thieves, and worse.

The village was a peaceful place, its narrow streets lined with stone cottages and smoke rising from the forges. A slight breeze carried the scent of metal and the sound of hammers striking anvils. As we rode into the village square, Seraphine guided her horse toward the largest forge—a tall building with a red-painted sign that depicted a hammer and anvil.

"You'll need something to protect yourself," Seraphine said, her tone firm. "The journey ahead isn't going to be easy. You'll be exposed, especially with your lack of experience in combat."

I nodded, still not used to the idea of having to defend myself. My bloodline had always been my focus, but I was quickly learning that raw power didn't always equate to safety. I needed something tangible to protect myself.

We dismounted and entered the blacksmith's shop, the heat from the forge immediately greeting us. An elderly blacksmith, his hands calloused and rough from years of work, looked up as we approached. He studied us for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he assessed Seraphine and me. His gaze lingered on my hand, where the faint mark of the Zeroth bloodline still pulsed.

"Ah, another traveler in need of protection," the blacksmith grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "I have just the thing for you, lad. Follow me."

We followed him through the shop, past rows of finely crafted weapons—swords, axes, and spears—all forged with masterful precision. Finally, he stopped in front of a small rack, pulling down a short sword with a simple but elegant design. The blade gleamed under the flickering light of the forge, its edge sharp and well-balanced.

"This here's a good weapon for someone just starting out," the blacksmith said, handing me the sword hilt-first. "Light enough for you to handle, but strong enough to protect yourself. I'd say it'll serve you well on your journey."

I took the sword, testing its weight in my hands. It felt foreign at first, but it was comforting in its simplicity. It wasn't the grand weapon I had imagined carrying as a warlock—nothing like Seraphine's finely crafted blade—but it would do for now.

"I'll take it," I said, handing over the gold Seraphine had arranged for payment. The blacksmith accepted it with a grunt and returned to his workbench, his hammer already striking the anvil once again.

With the sword secured, we mounted our horses and rode out of the village as the sky darkened. Seraphine led the way, and I followed closely behind. The air was thick with tension, and the village quickly faded behind us as we entered the dangerous no-man's land. It was an area infamous for its lawlessness—no one dared to venture into its borders unless they were prepared to face danger at every turn.

The further we rode, the more the landscape changed. The trees grew twisted, their branches gnarled and malformed as if they, too, had been corrupted by the dark magic that permeated this place. The path beneath our horses' hooves grew uneven, and the wind carried strange sounds—echoes of whispers that seemed to come from nowhere.

"Stay alert," Seraphine murmured, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "This is a place where danger lurks in every shadow. Sorcerers, thieves, and worse make this their home."

I nodded, gripping my new sword tightly. It felt like nothing more than a comfort, but I knew I couldn't rely solely on it. I had to trust in the magic that flowed within me, the power that I still didn't fully understand. Seraphine had already warned me of what awaited us—what the Council of Shadows would send our way once they learned of my bloodline.

We hadn't traveled far when we heard it—a faint rustle in the brush, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Seraphine immediately drew her sword, her posture tense, ready for any threat. I followed suit, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for the attack.

From the darkness of the trees emerged two figures, cloaked in black, their eyes cold and predatory. They moved with a strange grace, the way of seasoned fighters. One was a tall, wiry man, his face obscured by a hood, while the other was shorter, more stocky, with a scar running down the side of his face. Both carried weapons—daggers, sharp and gleaming.

"Well, well," the tall figure sneered, his voice low and mocking. "Look what we have here. A warlock and his little companion. Far from the safety of your home, aren't you?"

I clenched my fists, feeling the power within me rise to the surface, but Seraphine was quicker. In a blur of motion, she lunged forward, her blade flashing through the air. The tall figure barely had time to react, raising his dagger just in time to deflect her strike.

"Council of Shadows," Seraphine muttered, her eyes burning with fury. "I should have known."

The shorter man moved to flank me, his dagger raised high. Without thinking, I swung my new sword in a wide arc, the blade cutting through the air. The force of the strike sent him stumbling back, but he recovered quickly, snarling as he lunged again.

I met his attack with a sweeping motion of my sword, the blade connecting with his arm. He howled in pain, dropping his dagger as he staggered back, clutching his wound.

But the battle wasn't over.

The tall figure had recovered from Seraphine's initial strike and moved with uncanny speed, his dagger aimed at her heart. Seraphine dodged just in time, but the attack was relentless. The two figures were experienced—too experienced for me to handle alone.

I turned to help, but Seraphine's sharp gaze stopped me. "Stay back, Kalen. This is my fight."

With a final, swift motion, Seraphine drove her blade through the tall man's chest, ending the fight in a single, decisive strike. The body crumpled to the ground, and she stood over him, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

The shorter man, his face twisted with rage and fear, turned to flee. "You'll regret this," he spat. "The Council will know. You can't hide from them forever."

He disappeared into the darkness of the woods.

Seraphine sheathed her blade and turned to me. "You did well," she said. "But this isn't over. The Council will send more. And next time, it won't be just one of them."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words sink in. The danger was far from over.