Chapter One: The Reckless Promise

The grass was still damp from the afternoon rain. A faint mist hung over the village paths, softening the lanternlight flickering from the windows of small wooden homes. Smoke rose from chimneys, curling lazily into the dusk as voices quieted and children were called inside.

Raze Varnir sat on the rooftop of Juro's cottage, knees tucked to his chest, watching the sky darken. His skin was damp with sweat from training, and his arms ached—not from landing punches or kicks, but from holding stances for too long, from pushing his body just a little too far, again.

Below him, the world moved on. Peaceful. Unknowing.

He had just turned eleven a few weeks ago.

"Brooding again?" came a voice behind him.

Raze didn't have to turn. He knew who it was.

Letan—his friend, his rival in everything, and the only person who could make Raze feel both irritated and comforted at once—hopped onto the roof with casual ease, grinning like he owned the world. His copper-colored hair was still wild from running, and his clothes had streaks of dirt on them.

"You missed dinner," Letan said, flopping down beside him. "Old Mara made that spicy stew you like. I told her you were 'committed to self-suffering.' She thought it was poetic."

Raze didn't respond immediately. He watched the sky a moment longer. "I'm not hungry."

"You're never hungry after training. You're just tired and dramatic."

A pause. Then Raze muttered, "You're loud and stupid."

Letan smirked. "We're even, then."

The two sat in silence for a while. The sky above turned to deep blue, stars beginning to pierce through the veil. The world felt… too calm.

"Do you ever feel it?" Raze asked quietly.

Letan glanced at him. "Feel what?"

"This… itch. Like something's out there waiting for us. Not here. Not in Kareth."

Letan chuckled. "You mean the rest of the world? Yeah. Every day."

"No." Raze shook his head. "Not just the world. Something bigger. Something pulling."

Letan lay back against the tiles, hands behind his head. "Well, you've been stuck up here all day again. That's your problem."

"I was training."

"You were hiding." Letan turned his head toward him. "You train like someone's chasing you. But nothing's coming, Raze. Not yet. This place is too quiet."

"That's exactly why it bothers me," Raze muttered.

Letan sat up, stretching. "Then let's break the silence."

Raze narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I want to go into the forest tonight."

"No."

"It's not far. Just up to the ridge above the shadow pools. One hour in, one hour out."

"You've been saying 'just the ridge' for the past three weeks. Every time, we go further. You're reckless."

Letan stood now, arms crossed, a lopsided grin on his face. "And you're a coward."

Raze's eyes narrowed. "It's not cowardice to avoid dying."

"It's fear. And fear means you're not ready."

That stung. Letan knew it would.

Raze stood up slowly, stretching his sore legs. "We're not even D-Rank yet. Barely half-step. We don't have the strength to fight anything if it finds us."

"Then we won't fight. We'll be careful."

"That's what they said," Raze snapped. "The twin brothers who wandered too deep last spring. You remember how their mother screamed when they didn't come back?"

Letan's expression faltered for a moment. Then, as always, he masked it with his usual bravado. "We're not like them."

"No. We're just stupid kids pretending to be more."

Letan shrugged and turned to leave the rooftop. "You can stay here and train your breathing and posture, like always. Or you can come with me and actually feel alive for once."

He leapt down.

Raze stood there, wind brushing against his face. The stars above stared back coldly, indifferently. Inside, his chest tightened.

It wasn't bravery that made him follow.

It was guilt.

---

The edge of Shadelight Forest looked almost beautiful at night. The moonlight caught the morning mist that hadn't fully faded, casting it in pale silver strands between trees. The ancient trunks rose like silent sentinels, unmoving and watching.

Letan carried a small lantern—covered, barely glowing—and a rusted short sword he'd stolen from a trader's cart months ago. He carried it proudly, like a badge, though Raze had never seen him swing it properly.

"You don't even know how to use that thing," Raze muttered as they stepped past the first tree line.

"I know how to stab," Letan whispered back. "It's not that hard."

"You'd be better off running."

"You'd be better off punching a tree instead of people."

"I punch neither. I train."

Letan rolled his eyes.

They moved quietly, keeping close to a marked path Letan had begun carving over the past week—mostly small rocks, a few broken twigs bent at angles, subtle signs no normal person would see. But Raze noticed.

"How far are we going?" Raze asked, eyes darting between the thick trees.

Letan hesitated. "The ridge. Just to the overlook. I want to see the mana-lights in the pools again."

Raze didn't respond. He didn't like how the wind didn't stir here. Or how the forest floor muffled their footsteps too well. As if the place had learned to swallow sound.

Fifteen minutes in, they stopped to drink. Letan plopped onto a mossy stone, breathing hard.

"You okay?" Raze asked.

"Yeah." Letan grinned. "Just need to catch my breath. My sword's heavier than I remember."

Raze shook his head. "Maybe because it's real. Not a toy."

Letan's eyes twinkled. "It's the sword of a future S-Rank Ascendant."

"You're not even D-Rank."

"Details."

They sat in silence again. Then Letan reached into his pouch and pulled out a small pendant—the crescent fang he'd always worn since his uncle's passing. He held it out to Raze.

"If we make it to the ridge, it's yours."

"I don't want it."

"I'm giving it to you anyway."

Raze looked away. "Why now?"

Letan's grin faded. "Because… if something happens, I want someone to have it. Someone who'll remember what we were trying to be."

"Don't talk like that," Raze said sharply.

Letan stood again. "Then keep up."

---

They reached the ridge just as the wind shifted.

Below them, through the trees, the shadow pools glimmered faintly, mana-infused waters reflecting starlight in unnatural hues—violet, gold, deep crimson.

Letan leaned against a tree, gazing down in wonder. "See? Worth it."

Raze couldn't deny it. The sight stirred something in his chest. Wonder, maybe. Or longing.

Then they heard it.

A rustle. No, more than that. A crunch. Then stillness.

Letan turned his head slowly. "Did you hear—?"

Another step.

Raze's heart raced. His instincts screamed.

Then came the growl. Deep. Wet. Wrong.

A figure emerged from the dark—barely visible at first. Then clearer.

A mana-warped beast. Its body was once canine, but now swollen and cracked with exposed muscle, glowing veins of unstable energy throbbing beneath its skin. Its eyes pulsed with dull yellow fire. Fangs dripped with saliva that hissed when it touched leaves.

It was massive.

Letan froze. "Raze…"

"We run," Raze said, stepping in front of him out of instinct. "Now."

But the beast was faster.

It lunged—too fast to react. Raze shoved Letan aside. He fell hard.

Claws ripped through air, catching Raze's shirt. He stumbled, gasping.

Letan screamed and scrambled up. His sword flashed, wild and clumsy. He struck the beast's side.

The creature barely flinched.

Raze tried to grab Letan, to pull him—but the beast's roar stunned them both.

Letan made a choice.

He turned to Raze. "Run. Now."

"No. No, we—"

"RUN!"

Then he charged.

Raze saw him slam the sword into the creature's neck with everything he had.

It wasn't enough.

The beast shrieked in rage. It struck. There was blood. A lot of it.

Raze didn't see what happened next.

He ran.

Blind. Silent. Tears streaming down his face as his feet pounded through underbrush. Branches tore at his skin. Pain lanced through his lungs.

He didn't stop.

Not until the forest gave way to moonlight again, and he collapsed under a tree's roots, hands clenched into bloodied fists.

And the last words he heard still echoed:

"Run."