′Watch your step,′ one of the hooded men yelled, as Kian broke a branch, almost falling from the tree. Just reaching in time to grab another branch. The strength from sparring with Rederick Helped out a lot in this moment. breath heavy, muscles screaming in protest, but there was no way that they would let go that easily. had to push through. needed to be better. I needed their trust.

  Climbing to the top of the tree, Kian stuck his head through the branches, scanning the surrounding area. This forest wasn’t as large as first imagined. In the distance he could see the open fields and a river passing through. That meant that this is really a small tribe living in these woods.Taking in the surroundings Kian took his way down to the bottom of the tree. His mind replayed the words spoken byAlbaras.He told me that they are untrustworthy, but now after just a week... I felt strangely at home here. They were hooded like me, they practiced archery like I tried, and they moved in the shadows, just as I wished to. Slowly they took me in in their own way. Maybe this is the place for me.

  Reaching the ground Kian kept his quiet hoping that they will tell someting good or just be honest.

  ′You did well,′ the hooded man replied, “Over time, his voice had softened. Still like a teacher but not anymore trying to hurt but to learn. ′Your reaction time is sharp, your vision keen. But you lack the wisdom that only experience brings. You focus too much on the immediate, leaving yourself open from the sides, certainly from the back.′

  He nodded towards the other shadow. ′You’ve earned the right to know the names of those who tested you and the path you’ve made. I am Hraban, and he is Krahlik.′

  ′Come,′ he gestured toward a massive tree that they used to sleep in. ’and share your story.′

  From the shadows, a figure emerged silently. Krahlik. His movements were so fluid that, had Hraban not pointed him out, you wouldnever have noticed him at all. A chill ran down Kian spine, not from fear, but from the unsettling realization that these two could see him even in the darkest of shadows, where the cloak should take care off it all. For these two don’t need to see if they can hear it.

  The tree itself was hollowed out into an entire room. We gathered inside of the tree, there was a rough-hewn table inside it. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and aged wood, mingling with the faint fragrance of leaves long fallen. A single lantern flickered in the center, casting light that illuminated the middle while leaving the edges cloaked in shadow, creating an intimate, almost secretive atmosphere.

  Hraban’s gaze leaned forward, his piercing eyes seeming to weigh the very soul he looked at. ′Kian, what led you to this path of adventure?′ he asked, his tone both curious and probing.

  ‘I.’ Kian stumbled out, glancing between Hraban and Krahlik. Should I trust them with the truth, or guard my past?Their expressions were like stone slabs even as Hraban tried to give a smile, giving away nothing of their thoughts or intentions. From now on they always now when I am lying, and they will always keep probing around to have the answer they wish for.

  ’I come from Kingston,′ Kian began slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. ′I left when I met Albaras. From there, our journey took us to another companion, someone who taught me the art of melee combat, while Albaras showed me how to survive in this world.′ They kept quiet. Hraban’s smile disappeared. What did they know what I didn’t.

  Krahlik was this time the first to answer, low and serious as he always is. ′Did you take the oath?′ The question was simple than anything expected, but was there an edge of concern in it? Maybe even some urgency in his tone.

  Kian shook his head. ′No, I haven’t.′ Thinking about it. He made Rederick do it directly. Not me though.

  Both let out a sigh. As if it was some kind of relief that the oath hadn’t been taken? ′Then what will you do when you’ve walked in the lands where death lies in wait?′

  Kian looked away from them. I have already fought monsters. What could they mean by that? To not be with the one who saved me?′Maybe... just maybe, I can be of use to those who’ve guided me, have saved me when others wanted me dead. Perhaps by helping them, I’ll find the purpose I’ve been searching for before moving on.′

  Hraban and Krahlik exchanged a glance, one that spoke volumes without a word. After a long moment, Hraban nodded. It was a small, deliberate gesture, yet it carried the weight of unspoken judgment.

  ’Very well, Kian. Let us see where your path leads, and whether you have the strength to walk it to the end. Remember, if you wish, you may stay here.′

  ′At the end of Rederick’s trail, he finally found it. A body lay cloaked in darkness, a half-black mask shattered upon its head. The broken edges revealed glimpses of pale skin beneath, but there was no mistaking the identity. It was the man Albaras had described, down to the last unsettling detail.′

  Nearby, the ground bore faint, weathered hoofprints leading away from the lifeless figure. The trail was barely discernible, possibly days old, the impressions already fading into the earth.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Rederick knelt beside the body, his mind racing. Should he follow the tracks and chase what little remained of the trail, or secure the body before time and nature erased all traces of it?

  He weighed his options, eyes flicking back to the hoofprints. They were a fragile lead growing weaker by the hour. Yet if he left the body behind, it would decay, taking with it whatever secrets it still held. Clues to the man’s identity, his purpose, and the truth Rederick sought.

  Doubt gnawed at him. With one last reluctant glance at the fading path, he hoisted the body over his shoulder. The weight was heavier than expected, not just flesh and bone but evidence, truth, and the burden of what he needed to uncover.

  ′With a determined step, he turned back toward Dunten, leaving the trail behind and hoping he hadn’t just walked away from the real truth.′

  Following the faint trail Drettius had left behind, Albaras pressed on. Each step sent a fresh trickle of blood seeping through the slits in his armor, a relentless reminder of a wound that refused to heal. The poison was potent. Too potent. ′That annoying little boy,′ Albaras growled beneath his helmet.

  The tracks led him into a small wood, the trees closing in like silent sentinels. He halted, scanning the area. It was a perfect place for an ambush. A low chuckle escaped him as he rode in.

  Deep inside of it, Albaras spotted carvings on a tree. He dismounted, crouching low to inspect the carving. The name ‘Albie’ was etched into the bark. The moment his eyes fell on the markings, a bolt whistled through the air, glancing off the side of his helmet, mere inches from the narrow slit of his visor.

  ′How dare you, boy,′Albaras said, his voice not raised in a shout but still carrying an intensity that seemed to fill the air. The sheer presence of his words was enough to make the woods feel heavier.

  He moved swiftly and with control, scanning the dense foliage above. His eyes narrowed as his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. His shield slid off his back, staying close to his body, an added layer of defense, ready to act at a moment’s notice.

  ′Drettius, you don’t think you’re the only one being used, do you?′ Albaras called out, his voice cutting through the silence of the trees. ′You know you can’t outrun me. The ghosts we’ve made will follow us forever, mate.′

  A mocking laugh echoed from the shadows. ′Outrun you? Of course, I can, old friend. I have allies where you have none. All I need is to reach the right border, and you’ll never catch me.′

  ′Since when were you the one breaking oaths?′ Albaras mused aloud, his voice thick with mockery. ′You, a rogue hunter, betraying everything you once stood for?′ A small chuckle escaped him. ′Come on, Drettius, you can’t outlast me. The promise will be broken.′

  A voice hissed from the shadows, bitter and weary. ′You don’t know everything, Albaras. I’ve lived my life in a cage, built by the very men who hire us. They took everything from me... now it’s time to take something back.′

  Albaras drew his dark sword, his eyes scanning the dense forest. ′So, what now? Run forever? Hide in the shadows, waiting to wither away and be forgotten?′

  A rustle caught his attention at the corner of his eye. He tensed, his senses on high alert.

  ′I’m not the only one, Albaras,′ Drettius’s voice softened, almost a whisper carried by the wind. ′There are more hunters like me. We won’t be their pawns forever.′

  Before Albaras could respond, a figure erupted from the undergrowth—a man, his belt strung with dead rats, his form cloaked in a swirling cloud of leaves. Albaras raised his shield, thrusting it into the maelstrom, but his blade met nothing but empty air.

  In the same instant, Drettius charged from behind, and the other hunter used his axes to climb over Albaras’s shield, moving with the fluidity of a predator closing in on its prey. The forest rang with the chaotic clash of steel and grunts of effort.

  A low, sinister laugh escaped Albaras, echoing through the woods like a dark omen. ‘Is this how you want to die?’ he taunted, his voice thick with dark amusement, his words lingering in the air like the poison coursing through his veins.

  With a sudden, savage push, Albaras slammed his shield against a nearby tree. Kruger was nearly over the shield, his axe poised to strike Albaras helmet, when the impact trapped his leg with a sickening crunch. In the same breath, he pivoted, aiming for a strike at Drettius, who had closed the distance.

  Drettius dagger found its mark, sinking deep into the nerve of Albaras sword arm, the blade laced with poison. His fingers twitched; the limb rendered useless. But Albaras was undeterred. With a snarl, he swung his shield with brutal force, smashing it into Drettius side and sending him crashing into a distant tree with a bone-shattering thud.

  Kruger, grim-faced and unrelenting, buried an axe into Albaras wounded leg. The laughter died abruptly as the axe struck. Albaras turned toward him, stomping down on the embedded weapon, pinning it to the ground. Kruger wasted no time, driving his second axe into Albaras’s other leg.

  Albaras looked down without flinching. Instead, he swung his shield down toward Kruger’s head. The hunter was quicker, rolling backward and leaving his axes behind.

  Bloodied and weakened, Albaras knew he couldn’t go on. His body sagged under the weight of poison and blood loss as he staggered toward his horse.

  Kruger wrenched his axes from the dirt, their edges glistening with blood and soil. Nearby, Drettius struggled to push himself upright, his breaths ragged and strained. His narrowed eyes locked onto Albaras, watching the wounded warrior retreat.

  ′Running away, Albaras? That’s a first,′ Drettius growled. ′You know I don’t want to kill you. I just want a word.′

  Wiping blood from his mouth, he sneered, his mouth contorted with a mix of regret and hatred. ′Why, in Nectar’s name, do you always reach for your weapon the moment a fight begins?′ His voice trembled with restrained fury. ′You bloodthirsty monster, killing, laughing, slaughtering as if it’s the only thing that matters to you.′

  The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable, a venomous mix of resentment and sorrow. It was a true voice a voice with no lies. Albaras wouldn’t forget such a voice of so long ago.

  Albaras turned back to face them, a menacing purple light flickering within the eye slits of his helmet. ′I will find you again,′ he vowed, his voice just a whisper on the wind. ′And when I do, I will fulfill my promise, unlike you.′

  With that, he mounted his horse, the beast snorting and pawing at the ground. He cast one last glance at his former comrade before spurring his steed forward, vanishing into the depths of the forest.

  Silence fell. Only the rustling leaves remained, as if the wind itself whispered of the bloodshed that should never have been.