The forest felt wrong.
Not in the usual way, not the hum of magic or the whisper of the shard, but something heavier.
Something watching.
Castor walked ahead, hand on the hilt of his blade. Sahora moved beside me, quiet, alert. The bond between us hummed with that same strange awareness, still warm from the kiss we weren’t talking about.
Not awkward.
Not tense.
Just… real.
Too real.
I kept my eyes on the path, trying not to think about the way her shoulder brushed mine every few steps.
We were almost to the Waterfall when the shard pulsed, hard.
I staggered.
Sahora caught my arm. “Stop”
Before I could answer, Castor hissed, “We are not alone”
We froze.
The forest went silent.
No birds.
No wind.
No breath.
Then;
A low growl rolled through the trees.
Not one creature.
Many.
Castor drew his sword. “We’re surrounded.”
The shard flared against my chest, reacting to something I couldn’t see. My pulse hammered.
Sahora stepped in front of me without thinking, her stance shifting into something sharp and ready.
Branches snapped.
Shapes moved between the trees, long limbs, too many joints, eyes glowing like embers.
Forest Wraiths.
Dozens.
My breath caught. “They shouldn’t be this far north.”
“They shouldn’t be anywhere near us,” Castor muttered.
The first one lunged.
Castor met it with steel, sparks flying as his blade clashed with its claws. Sahora moved like lightning, her dagger slicing through another’s throat. I raised my hands, calling on my magic, but it pulsed erratically, the shard making it too loud, too wild.
“Come on,” I whispered. “Work with me.”
Another Wraith lunged at Sahora. I shoved her aside, taking the hit across my ribs. Pain exploded through me, but I stayed upright, pushing the creature back with a burst of green light.
It shrieked, stumbling.
Sahora grabbed my arm. “Oliver, you didn’t need to do that. You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. The bond tightening with it.
Castor grunted as two Wraiths pinned him against a tree. Sahora darted toward him, but three more cut her off.
We were losing ground.
The shard pulsed again, frantic, panicked.
Something else was coming.
The Wraiths sensed it too. They hesitated, heads snapping toward the deeper forest.
A low, rumbling snarl rolled through the trees.
Sahora’s eyes widened. “What is that?”
I knew.
My heart slammed against my ribs. “No. It can’t be—”
The forest exploded.
A massive shape burst through the underbrush, fur bristling, fangs bared, eyes glowing with yellow fire.
The Hollowfang.
The same one from my second trial.
The one I spared.
The one I calmed.
The one I freed.
It roared, a sound that shook the ground, and launched itself at the nearest Wraith, tearing it off Castor with a single swipe of its claws.
Castor stared, stunned. “What in the—”
“It’s helping us,” I said, breathless.
Sahora blinked. “Why?”
I swallowed. “Because I saved it.”
The Hollowfang slammed another Wraith into a tree, snapping its spine. The remaining creatures shrieked, scattering into the forest. The Hollowfang didn’t chase them. It turned toward us instead.
Toward me.
Sahora stepped in front of me again, protective. “Oliver—”
“It’s okay,” I said softly.
The Hollowfang lowered its head, sniffing the air around me. Its breath was hot, its presence massive.
Slowly, I reached out.
My hand touched its fur.
Warm.
Alive.
Familiar.
The Hollowfang rumbled, not a growl.
A greeting.
Castor exhaled shakily. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Sahora’s voice was soft. “It remembers you.”
I nodded. “I think… It’s been following us.”
The Hollowfang nudged my shoulder, then looked toward the Waterfall, ears pricked.
Guiding.
Warning.
Protecting.
Sahora stepped beside me, her voice low. “Oliver… this isn’t normal.”
“I know.”
The shard pulsed again, steady this time, almost calm.
The Hollowfang growled softly, then began walking toward the Waterfall, glancing back to make sure we followed.
Castor sheathed his sword. “Well. If the giant death‑beast wants to escort us, I’m not arguing.”
Sahora smirked. “Glad we agree.”
I placed a hand on the Hollowfang’s flank.
“Lead the way,” I whispered.
And together, the three of us and the creature I once feared, we walked toward the Waterfall.
The Hollowfang padded ahead of us, massive and silent, its fur brushing against the trees as if the forest parted for it. Sahora walked beside me, close enough that our arms brushed every few steps.
Every time it happened, the bond hummed.
Every time it hummed, we both pretended we didn’t notice.
Not awkward.
Not pretending to be normal.
Just… aware.
Too aware.
Castor kept glancing back at us like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t want the answer to.
We reached the camp just as the sun dipped behind the trees. The others were already there, Ami tending the fire, Briar stirring a pot of stew, Cyrus fussing over his maps, Elyon sitting cross‑legged with their eyes half‑closed like he was meditating or judging us. Probably both.
Ami looked up first. “Oh, good, you’re alive.”
Cyrus snorted. “Barely.”
Briar’s eyes widened when she saw the Hollowfang. “Is that—”
“Yes,” I said.
“It’s friendly,” Sahora added.
Castor muttered, “Friendly is a strong word.”
The Hollowfang huffed and curled up beside the fire like it owned the place.
Ami tossed it a piece of dried meat. It caught it mid‑air without blinking.
“See?” she said. “Perfectly harmless.”
Castor stared at her. “It ate a Wraith in half.”
“Efficient,” Ami said.
I sat beside Sahora, the warmth of the fire brushing my skin. The stew smelled like herbs and root vegetables, simple, comforting. Briar handed me a bowl with a small smile.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I feel tired.”
Sahora shifted beside me, her knee brushing mine. The bond pulsed, warm, steady, too intimate. I tried not to look at her. She tried not to look at me.
We both failed.
Castor groaned loudly. “Gods, please stop whatever that is.”
Ami perked up. “What is what?”
“Nothing,” Sahora and I said at the same time.
Cyrus smirked. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Elyon finally opened their eyes.
“Enough,” they said, voice smooth and cold. “We have more pressing matters than your… entanglements.”
I choked on my stew.
Sahora elbowed me. “Don’t die.”
“I’m trying not to.”
Briar cleared her throat. “We need to talk about where we go next.”
Castor nodded. “We need to get the life essence.”
A quiet settled over the group, heavy, expectant.
Ami leaned forward. “Where is the life essence, though?”
Before anyone could answer, Elyon began to hum.
Soft.
Low.
Ancient.
The fire flickered, bending toward him.
Their voice rose, not loud, not forced, but resonant, as the sound came from the earth beneath us.
“In the hollow of stone where the old world sleeps,
A flame waits, unbroken, in the dark it keeps.
It burns without breath, without ash, without end,
A life never taken, a fire that mends.
The air shifted.
The Hollowfang lifted its head.
Sahora’s breath caught.
The shard against my chest pulsed, once, twice, in perfect rhythm with Elyon’s voice.
“Seek not the river, nor the sky, nor the sea,
For the flame rests deep where no light can be.
In the heart of the cave where the echoes remain,
There lies the Essence, the life in the flame.”
Silence fell.
The fire crackled.
No one moved.
Elyon opened their eyes, glowing faintly with silver light. “The Life Essence is not in the Waterfall. It is beneath it.”
Castor frowned. “Beneath?”
“In the caves,” Elyon said. “Deep. Older than the temple. Older than Banthys.”
Sahora leaned forward. “How do you know that?”
Elyon’s gaze slid to me.
“Because the shard told him,” I whispered.
The shard pulsed again, warm, urgent.
Elyon nodded once. “It sings. And I listen.”
Ami shivered. “So we’re going into a cave with an eternal flame that never burns out.”
Cyrus grinned. “Sounds fun.”
Briar sighed. “Sounds dangerous.”
Castor tightened his grip on his sword. “Sounds necessary.”
Sahora looked at me, really looked, and the bond warmed, steady and sure.
“Are you ready?” she asked softly.
I swallowed.
“No,” I said. “But I’m going anyway.”
She smiled, small, fierce, proud.
“Good.”
The Hollowfang rumbled, as if agreeing.
Elyon closed their eyes again. “At dawn, we descend.”
And the fire flickered like it knew the truth of it.