Kael
The smell of cooking meat pulls me from uneasy sleep. For a moment, I don't move, staring up at the wooden ceiling of Elias's cabin.
The weight in my chest hasn't lifted. If anything, it's heavier today.
Memories press at the edge of my mind from last night—things I don't want to think about, don't want to feel.
I push them away and sit up, rubbing my hands over my face. My body still aches.
The soft crackling of the fire and the scent of food draw me toward the kitchen. Elias stands by the hearth, flipping strips of meat in a pan. He moves with the same quiet efficiency as always, never wasting motion.
He glances at me, but doesn't say anything right away. Instead, he nods toward the table, where a wooden bowl and spoon is already set.
"Eat," he says simply.
I hesitate, but hunger wins. I sit, picking up a piece of meat and biting in. It's tougher than what I remember eating before, but I don't care.
The warmth spreads through me, settling something restless in my stomach.
Elias stands by the table as I eat, arms crossed. He watches me for a few moments before speaking.
"We're going into the woods today."
I pause mid-bite.
He doesn't elaborate, waiting for me to respond.
"…Why?"
"Because you need to train," he says. "And because it'll be safer for you. No one will find you there."
The way he says it makes something in me prickle. I set my food down.
"You think someone's looking for me." It's not a question.
Elias doesn't confirm or deny it. He just holds my gaze, then he turns back to the fireplace.
"Finish eating," he says. "We leave soon."
A hollow feeling settles in my stomach, heavy and twisting.
I don't ask.
Because some part of me already knows. And the thought makes me sick.
----------
The woods stretch wide and endless around us, the towering trees swallowing the sky in a canopy of green and gold.
The deeper we go, the quieter it gets—no distant hum of village life, no crackle of a fire, just the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a branch underfoot.
Elias doesn't talk much as we walk, but he doesn't have to. I already know why we're here. This place is hidden, isolated. If someone was searching for me, they wouldn't find me out here.
"Not bad," I mutter, glancing around. "A little eerie, but I see the appeal."
Elias hums. "You'll appreciate it more when you're the one doing the hunting."
I scoff. "Right. Because that's going to happen."
"You'd be surprised." He throws me a look over his shoulder. "Try to keep up."
I roll my eyes but pick up the pace, trailing behind him as he weaves through the thick underbrush like he's walked this path a thousand times.
Eventually, we reach a small clearing. The ground is soft with fallen leaves, the air damp from last night's rain.
Elias stops, turning to me with his arms crossed.
"Alright," he says. "Let's see what you can do. We start with the basics," he says. "Survival. Endurance. Focus."
I nod stiffly, not trusting myself to speak.
He draws a knife from his belt and tosses it to me. I catch it—barely—and fumble with my grip. The metal is cold, heavier than I expected.
I glance up at him. "What happened to wooden swords? We used those before."
Elias watches impassively. "A wooden sword won't do much if someone comes at you with real steel."
I scowl, adjusting my grip. "I don't plan on fighting anyone." I pause before adding, "At least, not yet."
"That's the problem." He nods at my hands. "Hold it properly, or you'll lose a finger."
I exhale sharply and shift my hold, trying to ignore how unnatural it feels in my palm.
Elias studies me for a moment, then steps forward. "Here." He reaches out, adjusting my fingers with a firm but steady touch. "You want control, not just strength. If your grip's too tight, you'll slow yourself down."
I nod, swallowing. The knife suddenly feels a lot heavier.
I adjust my grip once more, feeling the weight of the blade in my palm.
Elias steps behind me, his voice steady and measured. "Your grip is too tight this time. It won't run away. Loosen it."
He watches as I lighten my grip, then scowls.
"Too loose, you'll drop it with one hit. Try again, Kael."
Frustration pricks at my nerves. "I didn't know knife holding had so many rules," I muttered as I grit my teeth and tried again.
Elias moves to stand in front of me. "A knife is an extension of yourself. It should feel like part of you."
"It doesn't."
"Then make it."
I exhale sharply.
He doesn't wait for me to argue. Instead, he moves, striking fast. I barely get my knife up in time to block him, and even then, the impact sends a jolt up my arm.
Elias doesn't hesitate. He moves again, sweeping my legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard.
I groan.
Elias steps back, giving me room to get up. "Again."
I push myself up. Try again. Fail again.
Over and over.
The frustration builds. I can feel it clawing at my ribs, twisting in my stomach.
I'm not good at this. My body feels slow, my mind even slower. Every time I move, I hesitate. Every time I strike, I pull back at the last second.
And Elias notices.
His sharp gaze tracks every flinch, every moment of doubt. But he doesn't comment. Not yet.
He just keeps knocking me down.
----------
I don't know how long we train. Minutes, hours—it all blurs together beneath the weight of exhaustion.
My arms ache. My legs are sluggish. Every breath feels too fast, too sharp, like my lungs can't keep up. But Elias doesn't stop.
He keeps pushing. Keeps forcing me to move, to react.
And every time I hesitate—every time I let a thought slip between instinct and action—I hit the ground.
"Focus," Elias says, standing over me as I push myself up again. "You're not here. You're in your head."
I wipe sweat from my face and glare at him. "I'm trying."
"No, you're thinking."
I grit my teeth and lunge, aiming low, trying to catch him off guard.
But he sidesteps with infuriating ease, catching my arm and twisting just enough to send me sprawling into the dirt.
Pain jolts through my shoulder. I groan, rolling onto my back, but before I can catch my breath, he's there—boot planted beside me, knife glinting in his hand.
"If I were an enemy, you'd be dead." His voice is calm, but sharp. "If I were one of the soldiers that burned your Veyrn village, what would you do?"
I tense. My hands curl into fists.
"I—"
He crouches beside me, lowering the knife to my throat—not cutting, just pressing lightly enough to make a point. "Would you just let them take you?"
I clench my jaw. "No."
"Then prove it."
The blade vanishes. He moves back, giving me space. I suck in a breath, my pulse hammering as I push myself up again.
Anger burns beneath my skin, mixing with exhaustion. I don't want to keep failing. I don't want to be weak.
Elias watches, waiting.
My breath is ragged, my fingers curling into the damp earth. My head pounds. My body screams at me to stop.
And then—
A sharp crack in the air.
Something inside me snaps.
The weight in my chest coils tight—too tight. The air around us shudders.
And then, without warning—
A rabbit not far from us collapses. We turn at the sound of its small body hitting the ground.
There was no struggle. Just… dead. Like someone pressed a button on it, making it as limp as a doll.
My stomach twists violently. This again. Not this again.
Elias stills. His eyes flick to me, but he doesn't move.
I stumble up to my feet before I could think twice.
I kneel beside the rabbit, my hands trembling, my breath sharp and uneven.
No, this creature didn't deserve this—
My fingers shake above the rabbit's mangled, lifeless body. I did this. It's the birds all over again.
A weight inside me twists, something pulling from deep within.
A flicker of light dances at my fingertips—black edged with deep violet, shifting like smoke. My breath catches.
I know this.
The sight of it sends a cold spike of terror through my chest.
No. Not again.
The glow slithers forward, curling toward the rabbit's limp body. The air sharpens, turning bitterly cold. My stomach knots so violently it hurts.
I try to pull back, to stop whatever is happening—
But it's already too late.
A violent jerk.
The rabbit's body spasms, its limbs snapping rigid as if seized by an unseen force. Its chest heaves, sucking in a breath that shouldn't be possible. The sound is wrong—wet and gurgling, lungs filling with something thick and unnatural.
Its head twists toward me with a sickening crack.
I recoil, horror twisting through me.
The rabbit moves—no, lunges.
It shouldn't be able to. Its body is broken, lifeless just moments ago, but now it surges forward, claws raking at the dirt, its mouth parted in a grotesque mimicry of a snarl.
Its eyes—once glassy and vacant—are filled with something else now. Something wrong.
I scramble back, my breath catching in my throat.
No—no, this isn't happening—
A flash of silver. A sharp, clean slice.
The rabbit collapses mid-lunge, its body thudding against the earth. Lifeless. Truly lifeless.
Silence crashes down.
My hands shake. My entire body shakes.
Elias watches me, his gaze unreadable. Slowly, he lowers the blade, wiping the blood clean before tucking it away.
When he speaks, his voice is steady. Unshaken.
"The Veyrn don't just raise the dead, Kael." Elias's voice is steady, but there's something heavy beneath it—something grim.
His gaze locks onto mine, unyielding. "They kill with strong emotions. That's how they build their armies. Fear. Anger. Pure hatred. It kills anything and everything, and they bring it back to life."
The words sink in, heavy and suffocating.
I killed it. Not just once. Twice.
My throat tightens. I feel sick.
Elias steps closer, his voice low but firm. "You cannot let your emotions take over." He gestures toward the rabbit. "You still don't understand the full extent of what you are—what you can do. And if you let this power control you, even for a second…"
His expression hardens.
"You may do something you can never take back."