Chapter 16 – Ash Beneath Leaves

The valley smelled of boiled roots and rusted iron.

Kael had grown used to it. To the damp moss on the walls, the silence of the apothecary, the way Elric's cough echoed through the corridors like a dying bird.

But today—

He needed to breathe.

Without a word, he left the inner Hollow.

No one stopped him.

The outer woods were dense with autumn. Leaves burned gold and copper in the wind, the ground blanketed in brittle silence.

Kael walked slowly, hands behind his back, robe brushing against dry brush.

For a moment, he felt something like peace.

Then—

Voices.

Shouting.

Steel.

He moved toward the sound, careful not to step on anything too loud.

In a clearing between crooked birches, a group of disciples circled two fighters.

Two disciples were already locked in a vicious duel—one in emerald-trimmed robes, tall and sharp-eyed, blade gleaming with confidence. The other, wearing a plain linen uniform patched at the elbows, fought with stiff breath and raw desperation.

From the murmurs at the edge of the crowd, Kael caught names.

"Huo Lin… merchant-blood. Chen Zai's from the outer rows."

"Third fight this week. Over what?"

"Over redleaf rights, they say. And a girl."

Kael said nothing. But he watched.

They moved fast.

One slash. Parry. Elbow. Trip.

No style. No technique.

Just fury.

A small figure crouched beside a rock near the edge of the clearing, eyes wide, scribbling furiously onto a bamboo tablet.

Kael stepped closer.

The boy looked up—startled, then curious.

Round face. Bright eyes. Too thin for his age.

He grinned.

"Watching too?"

Kael said nothing.

The boy scooted over and whispered like they were co-conspirators.

"That's Huo Lin, merchant faction. The one bleeding? Chen Zai, outer house. This is the third duel today."

Kael raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

The boy tapped his tablet. "Girl. Obviously. But also, distribution rights for the redleaf harvest. And probably pride."

A loud crack silenced them both.

Chen Zai went down, arm twisted, blade skidding across the grass.

The crowd murmured.

No one helped him up.

Huo Lin stood over him, breath ragged, blood on his lip.

Then he spat. "You people don't belong here."

Kael's eyes narrowed.

The boy beside him sighed. "That's going to make it worse."

Kael turned. "You keep records?"

"Of everything," the boy said proudly. "I'm Little Abacus. Not my real name, obviously. But everyone calls me that."

Kael glanced back at the scene. "No one stops this?"

Little Abacus shrugged. "As long as no one dies, no one cares. This place looks peaceful from the inside. It's not."

He paused.

Then added, more quietly: "Especially if you're not born with the right robe."

Kael said nothing.

He didn't move.

Didn't interfere.

But something in him shifted.

Something he'd spent years keeping still.

Far behind his ribs, hidden deep within cloth and bone, the bottle pulsed once.

Kael remained where he stood long after the crowd began to disperse. The breeze carried murmurs away, but not the feeling.

He glanced once more toward the clearing.

Some of the disciples who passed him cast sideways glances.

Not quite stares. But not blind, either.

One boy, robe marked with apprentice sigils, made eye contact—and then quickly looked down, stepping around Kael as if he'd brushed against something sacred or unclean.

He heard it in whispers:

"That guy… there's something in his eyes. Like he sees right through you."

They didn't say it loud.

They didn't need to.

Kael had long grown used to the silence that followed him—not the respectful kind, but the kind laced with fear.

Not because anyone had seen something.

But because Kael never made mistakes.

He knew too much. Acted too swiftly. Predicted too precisely.

And people feared what they could not explain.

They avoided him.

Not because of a moment.

But because of a feeling.

A reputation he hadn't built, but hadn't broken either.

Some said he held something that didn't belong to this world.

And if they only knew what sat beneath the folds of cloth at his belt…

He turned without a word and walked back into the woods, leaving the echoes of steel behind.