Chapter 14: Shadows in the Night
The night was quiet. Too quiet.
Phileo stood outside the cabin, his back against the wall, eyes fixed on the darkened treeline. The forest, usually alive with the hum of insects and distant calls of nocturnal creatures, was still.
It was never a good sign when the night held its breath.
Evelyne was inside, resting—or at least pretending to. She was stubborn. He could tell she wanted answers, but he wasn't ready to give them. Not yet.
Lysander's warning echoed in his mind.
They're getting closer.
Phileo exhaled. He had expected this, but not so soon. He had been careful. Covered his tracks. And yet, they had found him again.
Or maybe they had never stopped looking.
His grip tightened on his sword.
A flicker of movement in the trees.
Phileo's gaze sharpened.
For a moment, all was still again. Then, a shift—a subtle disturbance in the shadows.
He wasn't alone.
Slowly, he stepped away from the cabin, his boots silent against the earth. The wind carried the faint scent of damp leaves and steel.
Then—
A flash of silver.
Phileo dodged. A blade cut through the air where his throat had been moments before. He spun, drawing his sword in one fluid motion.
His attacker landed gracefully a few feet away, stepping out of the shadows.
A woman.
Slender, clad in dark, fitted clothing, a hood pulled over her head. Her face was partially obscured by a mask, but her eyes—cold, calculating—locked onto him.
Phileo didn't move. "Who sent you?"
The woman tilted her head, lips curling behind the mask. "You already know the answer to that."
Phileo's jaw clenched.
She lunged.
The Sound of Blades
Steel met steel, ringing sharp in the silence of the forest.
Phileo blocked her strike, pivoting to deflect a second blow aimed at his ribs. She was fast—faster than most—but he had fought faster.
She aimed low. A feint. He caught it, twisting to avoid the real attack—an upward slash meant to carve through his side.
He countered.
A step forward, his blade cutting through the air toward her shoulder.
She dropped, rolling out of reach before flipping back onto her feet.
Her eyes gleamed with something like amusement. "Not bad."
Phileo didn't respond.
She moved again. This time, she was relentless. A flurry of strikes, each one precise, calculated. He met them all, matching her rhythm, searching for an opening.
Then—
She shifted suddenly, twisting her body mid-strike. A dagger appeared in her other hand, aimed straight for his heart.
Phileo's eyes flashed.
His sword turned, catching the dagger at the last second. He twisted, forcing her off balance, and struck.
His blade stopped just shy of her throat.
Silence.
The woman stilled, her breath uneven. Then, slowly, she smiled. "You hesitated."
Phileo didn't react.
She stepped back, lowering her weapons. "They were right. You've changed."
He didn't lower his sword. "Tell them I'm not the same fool I was before."
The woman chuckled. "Oh, they already know that."
Then, in a blink, she leapt back into the shadows.
Gone.
Phileo stood still, listening, waiting. But she didn't return.
His grip on his sword tightened.
This was just the beginning.
Inside the Cabin
Evelyne stirred at the sound of the door opening.
She sat up as Phileo entered, his expression unreadable. But she noticed the way his fingers curled slightly—like a man ready to draw his sword again at any moment.
Something had happened.
Evelyne's eyes narrowed. "Phileo—"
"Go back to sleep."
His tone was quiet, but firm.
Evelyne clenched her jaw. "You're not telling me anything."
He didn't answer.
She watched him, frustration bubbling inside her. But when she looked closer—really looked—she saw something else.
Not just tension.
Not just exhaustion.
But something close to doubt.
Something had shaken him.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
As Phileo turned away, Evelyne lay back down. But she didn't close her eyes.
Because she knew, without a doubt—
The real fight hadn't even begun yet.