Chapter 8: Into the Wilds

The road ahead stretched like a winding scar through the dense forest, disappearing into the unknown. The air smelled of damp earth and pine, a stark contrast to the filth and desperation of Blackmere. Birds called from the canopy above, their songs an eerie reminder that, despite everything, life carried on in this strange world.

Raine adjusted the straps on his pack, still uncomfortable with the unfamiliar weight of a sword hanging from his belt. It wasn't much—just a battered short blade they had scavenged from an abandoned outpost on their way out of the city—but it was better than nothing.

"How far are we from this... place you're taking us?" he asked, glancing at Sylara, who walked a few paces ahead.

"About three days, if we keep a steady pace," she said without looking back. Her silver hair caught the morning light, shimmering as if it had a life of its own.

"Three days of what? Walking? Running? Fighting for our lives?"

"All of the above."

Raine sighed. "Figures."

They had been traveling since dawn, slipping out of Blackmere before Locke's men could react. So far, there had been no sign of pursuit, but both of them knew that wouldn't last. Locke wouldn't let them simply vanish.

The path gradually narrowed as they entered deeper into the untamed wilderness. Massive, ancient trees loomed over them, their gnarled roots twisting like the limbs of sleeping giants. Strange blue fungi clung to their bark, glowing faintly in the dim underbrush. It was beautiful in a haunting sort of way.

"This forest is... different," Raine muttered, unable to shake the feeling of being watched.

"It's called the Everveil," Sylara explained, moving with practiced ease. "It's said to be older than time itself. Some believe the spirits of the first elves still linger here."

"Spirits, huh? Great. Because we don't have enough things trying to kill us already."

Sylara shot him a sideways glance. "They don't kill. They judge."

"Somehow, that sounds worse."

A sudden rustling in the underbrush made them both stop. Sylara's hand immediately went to her sword, and Raine gripped his own hilt, though he doubted he'd be much use if it came to a real fight.

The bushes parted, and a small creature darted onto the path—a fox-like animal with six legs and fur that shimmered between crimson and gold. It paused, watching them with intelligent eyes before scurrying off into the forest.

Raine let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Just an animal."

Sylara, however, remained tense. "Not just any animal. That was a veyren. They only appear when something is about to happen."

Raine groaned. "Of course they do."

Ambush in the Everveil

By midday, the forest had grown darker. The thick canopy above let in only fragments of sunlight, creating shifting shadows that played tricks on the eyes. Raine could feel the change in the air—thicker, charged with an unseen energy. It made his skin prickle.

"We're not alone," Sylara murmured, her eyes scanning the trees.

Raine tensed. "Are you ever going to say something reassuring?"

Before she could answer, the attack came.

Arrows whistled through the air. Sylara shoved Raine to the ground as one embedded itself into the tree where he had just been standing. More followed, striking the path in rapid succession.

"MOVE!" she commanded, drawing her sword and pulling him to his feet.

They darted behind a fallen log as figures emerged from the trees—cloaked, their faces hidden beneath masks of bone and ivy. Their weapons were crude but deadly—bows, jagged spears, and curved knives that gleamed in the dim light.

"Who the hell are these guys?" Raine gasped.

Sylara's eyes narrowed. "Wildborn. Bandits. Or worse."

One of the masked figures stepped forward, raising a gnarled staff. The air shimmered around him, and suddenly the ground beneath them shifted. Vines burst from the earth, writhing like living snakes, lashing at their legs.

Sylara sliced through the vines with swift, precise movements. Raine, however, was caught off guard. A thick root coiled around his ankle, yanking him off balance. He hit the ground hard.

The nearest attacker lunged at him with a dagger. Raine barely managed to roll aside, his heart hammering in his chest. His hands burned, the same strange energy from before crackling just beneath his skin.

"Not now, not now," he muttered, trying to will the magic away. He wasn't ready to deal with that.

Sylara made quick work of the nearest foes, her sword a blur of silver. But there were too many of them.

Raine scrambled to his feet just as another attacker swung at him. Instinct took over. He raised his hand, and—

A pulse of energy exploded from his palm, sending the attacker flying backward. He hit a tree with a sickening crack and slumped to the ground, unmoving.

The remaining Wildborn hesitated, eyes flicking between Raine and Sylara. Then, as if some unspoken command had been given, they melted back into the forest, vanishing as quickly as they had come.

Silence returned to the Everveil, but the damage was done.

Raine stared at his hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The energy had already faded, but the memory of it lingered. It had felt... different this time. More controlled. More powerful.

Sylara sheathed her blade. "You're getting better."

Raine let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah. That's what scares me."

She didn't respond, only offered him a hand. He took it, pulling himself to his feet.

They needed to keep moving.

A Hidden Refuge

By nightfall, they found shelter in the hollow of a massive tree, its roots forming a natural alcove large enough to hide them from prying eyes. A small fire crackled between them, casting flickering shadows against the wood.

Raine stared into the flames. "Those Wildborn... what did they want?"

Sylara sat across from him, her expression unreadable. "Territory. Blood. Or maybe they just wanted to test you."

He frowned. "Test me?"

She hesitated, then sighed. "Magic in this world isn't just power. It's influence. Control. If word gets out that you can wield it, people will try to claim you."

Raine felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. "Great. Another reason to keep running."

Sylara didn't argue.

For a while, they sat in silence, the sounds of the forest filling the gaps between words. Despite everything, Raine felt... different. Stronger. More certain. He was still in over his head, but he wasn't helpless anymore.

He glanced at Sylara. "So, this place we're going—this person who has answers. Who are they?"

Sylara's gaze met his, and for the first time, he saw something close to hesitation in her eyes.

"An old friend," she said quietly. "And if we're lucky, he'll still be alive."

Raine swallowed. "And if we're not lucky?"

She didn't answer.

The fire crackled between them, throwing sparks into the dark.

Morning would bring new dangers. But for now, they had made it another day.

And that was enough.