Chapter Twelve

Dain Ravorel moved through the Merchant Quarters with slow, deliberate steps. His boots crushed dirt and loose stones beneath them, his ragged cloak dragging slightly as he walked. The market was bustling with life, but as soon as people noticed him, voices lowered, and eyes turned away.

He was used to it.

Dain wasn't just any hunter, he was a hollow, who had betrayed his kind. His very existence was a warning to others: loyalty to the king was the only path to survival.

He stopped in front of a modest tailor shop. A wooden sign, slightly chipped at the edges, read:

Lira's Tailoring.

He pushed the door open, the bell above it jingling softly. The shop was small but tidy, with bolts of fabric lining the shelves and a few dresses hanging neatly on the side. Behind the counter, a young woman looked up from where she had been cutting cloth.

Mistress Lira.

 Her brown hair was tied back loosely, and a smudge of chalk dusted her fingers.

Lira blinked at him, then straightened. "Can I help you?"

Dain stepped further inside, glancing around before fixing his sharp gaze on her. "I'm looking for a girl."

Lira's brows furrowed. "I make clothes, not missing persons."

Dain smirked. "Red hair. Light brown eyes. Worked here not too long ago." He leaned on the counter slightly. "Ring any bells?"

Lira's expression didn't change. "I have many customers."

Dain tilted his head. "I didn't say she was a customer."

Lira's fingers tightened around the fabric she held, but her face remained neutral. "If you're talking about Solene," she said carefully, "she doesn't work here anymore."

"Where is she?"

Lira exhaled. "I don't know."

Dain studied her closely, reading her posture, her breathing. If she was lying, she was good at it.

After a moment, he stepped back. "If she comes by," he said, voice low, "tell her the king is looking for her."

He turned and walked out, the bell jingling again as the door shut behind him.

Lira let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

As the door shut behind him, Lira let out a slow breath, trying to steady herself. But something about that man… something about him unsettled her in a way she couldn't shake off.

Curiosity tugged at her, and she moved to the front of her shop, pushing aside the curtain that covered the window. She spotted him easily, moving through the crowd like a shadow, his tattered cloak brushing against the dirt road. The people near him instinctively moved away, whispering among themselves.

He didn't seem to care.

Lira's gaze lingered on him until he disappeared around the corner. Then, she turned away and stepped back inside.

That was when she smelled it.

A faint scent clung to the air where he had stood, a mix of blood, damp earth, and something rotten.

She shuddered. She opened the windows more to let the stench go away.

Moving back behind her counter, she ran her fingers over the fabric she had been cutting earlier, trying to shake the unease creeping into her bones.

"Solene…" she murmured to herself.

She hadn't seen the girl since the day she left. There had been no news, no rumors, nothing. But if the king's men were searching for her now…

Lira swallowed hard.

Wherever Solene was, she could only hope she was alright.

.

.

The sun had barely risen when Kain dragged Solene back to their training ground. Every muscle in her body ached from the previous day's exercises, but she clenched her fists, refusing to show weakness. Kain, on the other hand, was relentless.

"Pain means progress," he said as he twirled his staff effortlessly, stepping into position. "You should be proud."

Solene exhaled sharply. "I feel like I've been trampled by a herd of beasts."

Kain smirked. "Then let's see if you learned anything."

They began sparring again, his movements precise, hers still rough but improving. She was faster than yesterday, more calculated, but still far from Kain's level. He dodged her strikes with ease, correcting her stance when necessary.

"Keep your balance," he instructed. "You're too stiff, let your body move with the attack, not against it."

Solene grit her teeth and adjusted her stance, but before she could strike again, Kain moved faster than she could register. His staff slammed against her side, knocking her off balance. She hit the ground with a grunt, pain radiating through her ribs. She was really angry at herself for not doing it right. 

Something inside her snapped.

A rush of heat exploded in her chest, spreading like wildfire through her veins. Her breathing turned ragged. The sigil on her back flared to life, glowing faintly beneath her clothes. She felt it just for a second, that immense, untamed force that had erupted in the arena.

Kain stepped back, eyes widening. "Solene…?"

She barely heard him. Flames licked at her fingertips, flickering before vanishing into thin air. The power disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Solene gasped, gripping her chest. It was gone.

She stared at her hands, confused and frustrated. "Why...why can't I hold onto it?"

Kain let out a breath, still eyeing her cautiously. "Because you're afraid of it." He crouched beside her, his voice quieter now. "You think it controls you, but that's not how power works. You need to own it before it owns you."

Solene swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. Was he right? Was she the one keeping it locked away?

Kain stood, offering her a hand. "That proves it's still inside you. And if it's still there, we'll find a way to make it yours."

Solene hesitated before taking his hand. The fear in her chest remained, but beneath it, something else stirred determination.

She would learn to control this power.

No matter what it took.

After almost a day, Dain entered the land of the Commons, the poorest and most neglected part of the kingdom. A place that was once home. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of unwashed bodies, the streets littered with debris. People moved like shadows, their faces gaunt, their eyes downcast. No one dared to look at him for too long.

He walked with purpose, scanning the crumbling buildings and the makeshift homes that barely held together. His reputation was known across the kingdom, and even here, the people shrank away from his presence.

A group of beggars huddled around a dying fire, their voices hushed as he passed. A few children peeked from behind torn curtains, their dirty faces filled with a mix of curiosity and fear.

Dain didn't stop. He was hunting.

His sharp gaze landed on an old woman selling stale bread from a wooden cart. Without a word, he approached.

She stiffened but didn't run. Her wrinkled hands clutched the edge of her cart as she looked up at him with wary eyes.

"You see any new faces around here?" Dain asked. His voice was calm but carried weight.

The woman hesitated, her lips pressing together.

"This place is full of people coming and going," she finally said. "I don't keep track."

Dain studied her for a moment, then tossed a small coin onto the cart. She eyed it, but she didn't pick it up.

"A girl," he continued. "Young. Red hair. Might be hurt."

The old woman shook her head. "No one like that's come here. And if she has, she won't last long."

Dain exhaled slowly, scanning the street again. If Solene was here, she was keeping out of sight. Smart.

But she wouldn't stay hidden forever.

With a final glance around, he turned and continued walking, his search far from over.

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