chapter 10:-Shadows of the Past

The forest was still.

Too still.

Elara sat with her back pressed against the rough bark of an ancient tree, Kael beside her, his sword resting across his lap. They had been running for hours, and though they had shaken off their pursuers, the silence of the woods did nothing to ease her nerves.

She exhaled slowly, staring into the dim light of dawn. The sky was streaked with hues of gray and gold, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. A new day had begun, but it felt like the weight of the past still clung to her skin like a second shadow.

Kael shifted beside her. "We need to move soon."

Elara nodded absently but didn't rise.

Something about the forest unsettled her.

She had grown up surrounded by trees, had played in the royal gardens as a child, had hidden in the woods when she first fled the castle. But this—this was different. The air here was thick, heavy with something unspoken.

Kael noticed her hesitation. "What is it?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. Something feels...off."

Kael scanned the trees, his grip tightening around his sword. "Then we should keep going."

Elara hesitated. "And go where, Kael? The rebels have scattered, the king's men are hunting us, and we have no allies left."

Kael was silent for a moment. Then he said, "We're not alone."

Elara frowned. "What do you mean?"

Kael met her gaze, something unreadable in his expression. "There are still those who would help us. People who hate the king as much as we do."

Elara swallowed. "And you trust them?"

Kael hesitated, just long enough for her to notice.

"Trust," he said finally, "is a dangerous thing."

Elara looked away. She knew that all too well.

They walked for hours, weaving through the thick undergrowth of the forest. Birds fluttered overhead, their calls sharp and restless. The deeper they went, the more the trees seemed to stretch, their gnarled branches reaching for them like skeletal fingers.

Elara pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "This place feels cursed."

Kael smirked. "It might be."

She shot him a look, but there was no amusement in his eyes.

"The king's men don't come here," he explained. "Neither do the rebels."

Elara frowned. "Then who does?"

Kael didn't answer. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him toward a narrow, barely visible path winding through the trees.

Elara hesitated. "Kael—"

Then she heard it.

A whisper.

Soft, almost indistinct, carried by the wind.

She turned sharply, scanning the trees. "Did you hear that?"

Kael's jaw tightened. "Yes."

Elara's heart pounded. "Are we being followed?"

Kael didn't answer immediately. He moved closer, placing a hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding.

"Stay close," he murmured.

She did.

They moved carefully now, their footsteps lighter, their breaths measured. The whispers had stopped, but the feeling of being watched hadn't.

Then—

A branch snapped.

Kael turned sharply, sword raised—

A figure emerged from the shadows.

Elara gasped.

She knew that face.

A man, his clothes tattered, his face streaked with dirt and dried blood. A rebel.

One of their rebels.

"Elara," he rasped. "Kael."

Kael lowered his sword slightly but didn't relax. "You're alive."

The man swayed on his feet. "Not for long."

Elara rushed forward before Kael could stop her. "You're hurt."

The man coughed, his body trembling. "They're coming."

Elara's breath caught.

Kael's grip on his sword tightened. "Who?"

The rebel lifted his gaze, and what Elara saw there sent a shiver down her spine.

"Not the king's men," he whispered.

"Something worse."

They moved quickly, helping the injured rebel as they made their way deeper into the woods.

Elara's mind raced. Something worse.

What could be worse than the king's assassins? Worse than betrayal?

The rebel's hands were shaking. His wounds weren't deep, but his body bore the signs of exhaustion, of fear etched into his very bones.

Kael didn't ask questions, not yet. He focused on getting them to safety.

They found an abandoned hunter's cabin, half-collapsed, its walls covered in moss and decay. It wasn't much, but it would do.

Kael set the rebel down against the wooden frame. "Tell us everything."

The man swallowed hard. "The king isn't the only one hunting us."

Elara frowned. "Then who?"

The rebel exhaled shakily. "The Blood Oath."

Elara's stomach twisted.

She had heard of them before.

The Blood Oath wasn't an army. They weren't assassins or mercenaries.

They were something else.

A secret order, bound by old magic, loyal only to themselves. They didn't take sides in wars. They didn't serve kings.

But once they were after you, there was no escape.

Kael's expression darkened. "Why would the Blood Oath care about us?"

The rebel laughed bitterly. "Because of her."

His gaze flickered to Elara.

Her breath caught. "Me?"

The rebel nodded. "You're not just any fugitive, Princess. You're a symbol. A threat."

Kael's grip on his sword tightened. "The Blood Oath doesn't get involved in politics."

"They do now." The rebel's voice was grim. "And they won't stop until she's dead."

Elara's hands trembled. The king's assassins were dangerous enough, but the Blood Oath—

They weren't just hunters.

They were executioners.

Kael turned to her, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—they burned with something fierce.

"We're not running anymore," he said.

Elara met his gaze, something inside her shifting.

"No," she whispered. "We're not."

The fire crackled in the corner of the cabin, casting flickering shadows against the rotting wooden walls. The rebel, still breathing shallowly, had passed out from exhaustion. Kael stood by the window, his eyes scanning the darkening forest, every muscle taut, every sense alert.

Elara sat on the floor beside the fire, her mind reeling.

The Blood Oath.

The name echoed in her head, a specter from the shadows of her past. It wasn't just the king's men who were after them anymore. It was them.

The Blood Oath had been whispered about in hushed tones in the darker corners of the kingdom, but only the brave—or the foolish—spoke openly of their existence. No one knew where they came from or how they had formed, only that their loyalty was unyielding, their methods ruthless.

Her throat tightened. "Why are they after me, Kael?"

Kael didn't turn. He didn't need to. He could feel the weight of her question hanging in the air like an oppressive storm.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "But I have an idea."

Elara's heart skipped. "What idea?"

Kael turned to face her, his expression grave. He moved toward her, but stopped short, as if hesitating. The moment stretched between them, tense and heavy. Then, finally, he spoke.

"The Blood Oath isn't just some mercenary group. They're bound by something... ancient. Something powerful."

Elara felt the weight of his words sink in. She had heard rumors of magic—whispers in the halls of the palace—but it was always treated like fantasy, something for children's stories. But the look in Kael's eyes told her otherwise.

"Their power isn't just in their ability to fight or track down their targets," Kael continued, his voice low. "They have the ability to sense things—things they shouldn't be able to. Things that make them more dangerous than any soldier or assassin."

Elara stood up slowly, her legs unsteady. "What does that mean for me?"

Kael took a deep breath. "It means you have something they want. Something... you don't even know about."

Her pulse quickened. "What is it, Kael? Tell me."

Kael's gaze softened for just a moment, but then it hardened again. "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's tied to your blood. The Oath doesn't hunt down people for no reason. They only pursue those who have a connection to the past. Something old. Something powerful."

Elara's mind reeled. Her hands clenched into fists. A connection to the past? But she had been raised in the castle, had been groomed for a life of luxury and diplomacy. There had never been anything in her life that pointed to the magical, to the supernatural.

But Kael's words lingered, sharp and insistent. Her blood.

Her pulse drummed in her ears, an unsettling rhythm.

"I don't understand." Her voice cracked, betraying the fear clawing at her chest.

Kael took a step toward her, his expression full of quiet resolve. "Neither do I. But I'm going to find out."

Before she could respond, the rebel stirred, groaning softly. Elara quickly turned to check on him. His injuries weren't life-threatening, but the strain of the journey had taken its toll. He would need rest, but they didn't have the luxury of waiting for him to recover fully.

"Kael," she said, her voice strained, "we can't just sit here. If the Blood Oath is really after me, we need to move. We can't let them find us."

Kael's jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. "I know. But we can't leave him behind either. He'll slow us down."

Elara turned back to the rebel, her heart heavy with the weight of their situation. "Then what do we do?"

Kael crouched down beside the man, inspecting his wounds. He pressed his fingers to the rebel's neck, checking for a pulse.

"He'll survive," Kael muttered, his eyes narrowing. "But we can't afford to stay here for long."

Elara nodded. "We need to find shelter—somewhere safe. The Blood Oath isn't going to give up, Kael. They'll track us."

"Not if we're careful," he replied, his voice cold and steady. "We move when it's dark. We leave no trace."

Elara bit her lip, her mind racing. Kael was right. They couldn't afford to make mistakes. They needed to move quickly and stay ahead of the Blood Oath. But that was easier said than done.

"I'll keep watch," Kael said, standing up again. "You should get some rest. I'll wake you when it's time to go."

Elara nodded, but sleep felt like an impossible luxury. How could she sleep when the Blood Oath was hunting her? How could she rest when her very blood was the key to something far more dangerous than anything she had ever known?

But as the night deepened and the fire burned low, exhaustion caught up to her, and she drifted into an uneasy slumber, her dreams haunted by visions of dark figures in the trees, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent.

When Elara awoke, the fire had long since burned out, and the air was chilled. Kael was gone, and the rebel was still unconscious. She scrambled to her feet, her mind immediately on high alert.

Where was Kael?

Then she heard the soft crunch of footsteps outside.

She stiffened, reaching for the dagger she had kept at her side. But before she could draw it, Kael stepped into the cabin.

"Kael," she breathed, her pulse quickening. "You scared me."

He didn't seem to notice her fear. His face was tight, his eyes hard.

"We have to go," he said, his voice low.

Elara quickly turned to the rebel. "Is he—"

"He's alive," Kael interrupted. "But we're not safe here. The Blood Oath will be on us before nightfall."

She nodded, her heart sinking. "Then we move now."

Kael motioned for her to follow him. "Stay close."

As they moved out of the cabin and back into the shadowed forest, Elara couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. The weight of Kael's words about the Blood Oath, about her blood, pressed on her chest, suffocating her with its mystery.

What had they seen in her? What did they want from her?

And most importantly—what was she willing to sacrifice to survive?