Chapter 9: Shadows in the Storm

Faye's grip on Talis's reins tightened as the words settled between them like a slow-building storm.

"It felt like it was watching me."

She had never heard Riven speak like that—not with uncertainty, not with hesitation.

Not even when they were hunted through the frozen wastes as children.

Kael remained unreadable, his silver eyes flicking between them before settling on Riven's wound.

"Let me see it," Kael finally said, his voice even, but carrying an edge of authority.

Riven huffed, but he didn't argue. He shifted in the saddle, moving his hand away. The second he did, Faye inhaled sharply.

The wound wasn't just deep—it was unnatural.

The torn flesh at his side had darkened around the edges, veins stretching outward in a jagged, corrupted pattern. It wasn't spreading—not yet—but it looked like something had tried to invade his body and had been barely kept at bay.

Faye's stomach turned. Not a sword. Not fire. Something worse.

Kael reached forward, fingers ghosting over the wound. The moment he did, Riven's muscles tensed.

A whisper of dark energy flared from the wound at the contact—like a presence that refused to fully disappear.

Kael exhaled slowly. "This isn't a normal injury."

"No shit," Riven muttered, his voice strained.

Faye didn't know what disturbed her more—the wound itself or the fact that Riven hadn't noticed the dark energy lingering in it.

Kael, however, had.

And his expression, unreadable as it was, told her that he had seen something like this before.

"This came from the same force that was hunting us," Kael murmured, pulling his hand back.

"That rider," Faye said, her voice a low growl. "The golden-eyed one."

Kael's gaze met hers, and for the first time, she saw something like understanding pass between them.

Kael had fought something similar before. He wasn't saying it outright, but Faye could read him well enough by now.

Riven let out a sharp breath. "So, what? Some cursed bastard tried to take a piece of me? They should've finished the job."

Faye glared at him. "That's not funny."

"It wasn't a joke," Riven replied, rolling his shoulders. "I just don't like the idea of being marked by something I don't understand."

Neither did she.

Kael reached into his belt and pulled out a small vial filled with a swirling, silver liquid.

"Drink this," he said simply.

Riven arched a brow. "I don't drink potions from people who don't tell me what's in them."

Kael's lips twitched slightly. "It's not poison."

"That's exactly what a poisoner would say."

"Riven." Faye's patience was thinning. "Drink it."

Riven let out a dramatic sigh but took the vial and downed it in one go. He coughed once, shaking his head. "That tastes like death."

"It's meant to disrupt lingering foreign magic," Kael said. "If something was trying to invade your body, that should sever its hold."

Riven smirked. "See? Now that's the kind of thing you say before making me drink it."

Faye ignored them both, turning back toward the horizon.

The storm had settled slightly, but in the distance, a dark shape still lingered at the edge of the sky.

It wasn't moving closer.

It was waiting.

Watching.

Faye clenched her fists.

If this rider wanted a war, they had chosen the wrong enemy.

She wasn't going to let them stalk her and her people like prey.

She would hunt them first.

Hours Later – Stormhold Ridge

The cavernous halls of Stormhold Ridge were carved into the mountainside, their walls lined with flickering torches and sigils of old rulers. It had once been a stronghold of dragon riders long before their time—before the fall of the great alliances.

Now, it was a refuge.

A place to regroup, to prepare for what came next.

Faye stood near one of the massive stone archways, looking out at the gathering forces below. Riders and warriors moved with tense efficiency, tending to the wounded, sharpening weapons, preparing for another fight before the last one had even faded.

Talis lay curled near the entrance, his massive wings partially folded, frost still clinging to his scales. He was watching her—not through their bond, but physically, his glowing eyes locked onto her.

He could feel her rage.

Faye exhaled slowly, trying to ease the tension in her muscles.

It wasn't working.

A voice broke through her thoughts.

"You're pacing."

She turned to see Riven approaching, his expression unreadable.

Faye scoffed. "No, I'm thinking."

"You think while pacing."

She folded her arms. "You should be resting."

"I heal fast."

"Not from that," she said, eyes flicking to his side.

The wound had stopped darkening, but it still didn't look right. The corruption hadn't spread, but something about it felt unfinished.

Like a battle that hadn't truly ended.

Riven shrugged. "I've had worse."

She narrowed her eyes. "Liar."

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Maybe."

Faye sighed, running a hand through her hair. "We need answers, Riven. We need to know who that rider is, what they're after, and why they're targeting us specifically."

His smirk faded slightly. "I was hoping you already had a plan for that."

"I do," she said quietly.

Riven waited.

Faye turned toward him, her blue eyes sharp as ice.

"We don't wait for them to come to us," she said. "We hunt them first."

Riven's smirk returned, slower this time.

"Now that," he said, "is a plan I can get behind."

Faye glanced back at the storm-choked horizon.

Because she could still feel it.

The presence in the dark.

And if they thought she would run and hide, they were about to learn the hard way—

She wasn't prey.

She was the hunter.