Chapter 5: A Flicker of Power

Raine sat by the riverbank, his clothes still damp from his near-drowning experience. The adrenaline from their escape had finally begun to fade, leaving behind exhaustion and a whirlwind of thoughts.

He had used magic.

The realization still sent shivers down his spine. He wasn't an elf, he wasn't from this world—so how the hell did he manage to tap into something so powerful?

Across from him, Sylara methodically wrung the water from her cloak, her expression unreadable. She had barely spoken since she pulled him from the river. Whether that was because she was deep in thought or just frustrated with him, he wasn't sure.

The silence stretched on until Raine couldn't take it anymore.

"Alright, what's the deal?" he asked.

Sylara flicked her gaze toward him, one silver eyebrow arching. "The deal?"

"You've been giving me the silent treatment since we got here. I get it, I screwed up crossing the log, but in my defense, I'm not some elf with perfect balance."

Sylara sighed, standing up and dusting off her clothes. "That's not what's bothering me."

"Then what is?"

She hesitated, then crossed her arms. "You used magic."

Raine blinked. "Yeah… I noticed."

"Humans don't have magic."

The way she said it wasn't just a statement—it was a rule, an unshakable law of this world. And yet, he had broken it.

"You don't have an explanation for it, do you?" she asked, studying him intently.

"Not a clue," he admitted. "I just… felt something. Like this weird pressure building up inside me. And when I let it out, well… boom."

Sylara looked down at the ground, her brows furrowed in deep thought. "Magic isn't just something you 'let out.' It requires training, discipline. Even among elves, only a few have the ability to wield it. And yet, you—someone who shouldn't even exist in this realm—just tapped into it without effort."

Raine scratched his head. "Well, when you put it that way, it sounds pretty insane."

"It is insane," she corrected. "And dangerous."

The way she said that last word made something twist in his gut.

"You're worried about me?" he asked, giving her a teasing smirk.

Sylara's glare could have cut through steel. "I'm worried about the fact that if you can use magic, others will want to know why. And that puts both of us in even greater danger."

Raine swallowed. "Others, meaning…"

"The High Court of Elyndra. The bounty hunters. The royal guards. Anyone who learns about you will want answers." She crossed her arms. "And they won't ask nicely."

Raine let out a slow breath. "Great. So, not only do I have no idea how I got here, but now I have a giant target on my back because of some freak magic powers I don't understand."

"Precisely."

"Well, that sucks."

Sylara rolled her eyes. "We need to keep moving. The bounty hunters won't stop searching for us. If they report back to their employer, even more will come."

Raine pushed himself to his feet, groaning. "Do we at least have a plan, or are we just running aimlessly?"

Sylara hesitated. "There is someone who might be able to help us."

Raine perked up. "Oh? A wise old sage? A secret rebel faction? Maybe a talking dragon?"

Sylara gave him a deadpan look. "No. An informant. Someone who deals in secrets and knows how to navigate dangerous territory."

Raine shrugged. "That works too, I guess. Where do we find them?"

Sylara's expression darkened. "In the city of Blackmere."

Raine didn't like the way she said that.

"Something tells me Blackmere isn't exactly a tourist destination," he muttered.

"It's a city of outlaws, mercenaries, and those who live outside the law," Sylara said. "If we're careful, we can blend in. If we're not… we won't make it out."

"Fantastic," Raine said sarcastically. "Sounds like a great place to get robbed and stabbed in an alleyway."

Sylara adjusted the strap of her sword. "Then don't give anyone a reason to do so."

The Road to Blackmere

The journey to Blackmere took them through dense forests, rocky hills, and narrow trails barely wide enough to walk through. Along the way, Raine tried—unsuccessfully—to understand his magic.

No matter how much he concentrated, the strange energy refused to respond like it had before. He tried clenching his fists, picturing the blue sparks, even whispering dramatic spell incantations under his breath (which earned him an eye-roll from Sylara).

But nothing happened.

It was frustrating.

Was it a fluke? Some kind of one-time miracle?

Or was he missing something?

"Stop thinking so hard," Sylara said one evening as they set up camp.

"Excuse me for trying to understand why I can suddenly shoot lightning out of my hands," Raine muttered.

"Magic isn't about forcing it," she explained. "It's about control. If you don't understand your own limits, the power will consume you before you can wield it properly."

"Right. Super comforting."

Sylara sighed. "Look, magic isn't like swinging a sword. It's alive. If you fight against it, it resists. If you learn to move with it, it obeys."

Raine stared into the campfire, watching the flames dance. "So, what you're saying is… I need to stop trying so hard?"

"More or less."

Raine exhaled, leaning back. "Easy for you to say. You've had your whole life to learn this stuff."

Sylara hesitated, her gaze flickering with something almost… regretful. "Not exactly."

Raine frowned. "What do you mean?"

But she didn't answer. Instead, she lay down, turning her back to him.

"Get some rest," she said.

Raine wanted to press her for more, but he knew better than to push his luck.

Still, a nagging thought remained.

Sylara had secrets.

And he was going to figure them out.

Blackmere

When they finally reached Blackmere, Raine immediately understood why Sylara had been so cautious.

The city was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Dark stone buildings rose like jagged teeth, their windows dimly lit with flickering lanterns. Narrow alleyways twisted like a maze, filled with cloaked figures, merchants selling stolen goods, and shady characters who watched newcomers like hungry wolves.

The air smelled of damp wood, burning oil, and something faintly metallic—blood.

"Stay close," Sylara murmured as they moved through the streets.

Raine didn't need to be told twice.

They navigated through the winding paths until they reached a worn-down tavern near the city's edge. The wooden sign above the door read The Hollow Fang.

Sylara pushed the door open, leading Raine inside.

The interior was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of murmured conversations and the clinking of mugs. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room.

At the far end, a man sat alone at a table, his face partially obscured by the hood of his cloak.

Sylara led Raine toward him.

The man looked up as they approached, revealing sharp green eyes and a smirk that was equal parts charming and dangerous.

"Sylara," he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "Didn't expect to see you alive."

"Neither did I," she replied coolly.

The man's gaze shifted to Raine. "And who's this? Don't tell me you've taken on an apprentice."

"Something like that," Sylara muttered.

Raine raised an eyebrow. "Something like that?"

The man chuckled. "Well, this just got interesting."

Sylara leaned in. "We need information."

The man's smirk widened. "Ah, but information comes at a price."

Raine sighed. "Of course it does."

And just like that, they were once again walking the thin line between survival and danger.