Zeritheus, though surprised by the sudden force of the attack and the drain on his energy, reacted instantly. He kept the invisible barrier firmly in place as Xhaelyn tugged him, their combined movement hidden behind the canvas. They scrambled over the barrels, the rough wood scraping against their clothes, towards the sliver of moonlight beneath the back door.
"What was that?!" the gaunt man exclaimed, his blue energy crackling even more intensely. He couldn't see them behind the canvas, only the lingering distortion in the air where his attack had been negated.
"Don't know, but they're still in here!" the woman replied, her crimson energy flaring. She launched a volley of searing projectiles towards the area where they had last been seen, the invisible barrier absorbing the fiery blasts with silent, shimmering ripples.
"This way!" Xhaelyn hissed, pushing against the ill-fitting back door. It groaned in protest but yielded, revealing a dark alleyway beyond. "Keep the barrier up, Zerith! We're not out of this yet!"
Without waiting for a response, she slipped through the narrow opening and into the night, pulling Zeritheus along with her, his invisible shield their only protection against the unseen threats still lurking within the hideout.
As the back door groaned open, Xhaelyn and Zeritheus slipped through the narrow gap. But before the door even swung shut behind them—
Boom!
A delayed explosion from the attackers' missed shots detonated inside. The air shook, and a wave of hot wind and thick smoke burst out from the building. The crackling blue energy that had struck the walls earlier had finally set something unstable alight.
Zeritheus coughed as the acrid smoke rolled into the alley. Visibility dropped instantly, the world around them turning into a swirling haze of gray and black. The invisible barrier, thankfully, had protected them from the initial blast, but the smoke was still thick and choking.
Xhaelyn didn't hesitate—she grabbed his wrist and pulled him forward, deeper into the choking fog. The close confines of the barrier, the sudden heat, and the shared moment of near-death had created an odd intimacy, a strange awareness of each other's presence in the chaos.
Behind them, confused voices rose.
"Damn it! I can't see a thing!"
"Where'd they go?!"
Some of their pursuers had rushed outside, but the thickening smoke made tracking impossible. Even those with sharp senses would struggle—the heat distortions and airborne ash were masking their presence completely.
As the back door slammed shut behind them, the explosive burst of smoke from the building's explosion swept over the alley. For a moment, Xhaelyn and Zeritheus were shrouded in the thick, choking haze.
The sudden, stifling heat made the air feel oppressive. Zeritheus coughed as he breathed in the burnt remnants of the building, eyes watering from the acrid scent. Xhaelyn, however, was already pulling him forward, her grip tight on his wrist as she led him deeper into the alley. He noticed, fleetingly, how small her hand was, yet how strong her pull.
They were almost invisible within the smoke, their movements masked by the rising chaos and the crumbling debris around them. The sounds of shouting and confusion echoed from the hideout, but none of the enemy's footsteps were in pursuit yet.
Xhaelyn paused, hearing their enemies' footsteps as they rushed out of the building behind them.
"Zerith, stop." She hissed, turning to him with a swift, determined expression. He stopped immediately, looking at her with quiet question.
She reached down to a small, hidden broken shards of a sharp object strapped to her waist and sliced a small, precise cut along her arm. The sharp sting brought a brief wince, but she ignored it, her focus razor-sharp. As the blood began to bead and drip from the wound, she quickly smeared a trail along the alley floor.
This scene was witness by Zeritheus who was frozen in place.
"Stay low, follow me," Xhaelyn whispered, tugging Zeritheus down beside the crates.
She left the trail of blood stretching behind them, careful not to let too much drip where it could be easily seen. The cut wasn't deep—just enough to leave a convincing marker.
Once the trail was set, she quickly pulled him along the alley, darting toward the opposite side, away from the trail. They needed to move fast.
As they pushed forward, Xhaelyn mentally mapped out their escape, weaving through the smoke-filled alleyways with sharp, practiced precision. They kept their speed, not daring to slow down. Behind them, the false trail would keep their pursuers busy for a few critical moments, but they needed to create enough distance.
At last, Xhaelyn rounded a corner sharply, leading Zeritheus down a narrow path that veered away from the false trail. She glanced back, her senses sharp, and saw their enemies beginning to spread out, one of them stopping by the blood trail.
The footsteps stopped. A few seconds of silence passed before a voice rang out, frustrated. They were far from them so the two of them are outside of their captors' visinity.
"There's blood here. They went this way."
Xhaelyn didn't wait to hear more. She pulled Zeritheus faster down the winding alley, her heart pounding in her chest as they raced through the thickening smoke.
Once they reached a more open space, she slowed just enough to regain her bearings. But they didn't stop—continuing to move at a pace that would keep them ahead.
After several minutes of hard running, Xhaelyn, she knew the trap she set with her own blood had successfully deceived their captors.
Xhaelyn's lips curled slightly in satisfaction, knowing that the false trail would waste precious time for their enemies. By the time they realized they'd been duped, they'd be too far behind to catch up.
"Keep going," she urged Zeritheus, her voice quieter now, though still urgent. They had a chance—an opening to escape undetected.
With their enemies far behind and still lost in the false trail, they continued to push forward into the night, far enough from their would-be captors to finally disappear into the city's winding maze of streets.
Only when they were several blocks away, the sounds of pursuit fading into the distant city noise, did Xhaelyn finally stop, leaning against a damp brick wall, catching her breath. Zeritheus, equally winded, leaned beside her, the adrenaline slowly beginning to fade.
A strange silence descended between them, broken only by their ragged breathing. The memory of being pressed so close together within the invisible barrier, the heat of the explosion, and the shared danger hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of a moment of unexpected intimacy amidst the chaos.
The image of Xhaelyn calmly slicing her arm replayed in Zeritheus's mind. How could she do that so casually? He glanced at her, a strange mix of confusion and a budding, uneasy respect churning within him. He'd always prided himself on his quick thinking, his ability to adapt. But Xhaelyn… she was different. Her actions were… unsettlingly pragmatic. He'd never encountered anyone, especially someone so young, who could so readily inflict pain on themselves for a tactical advantage. It challenged his understanding of her, of the world, and even of himself. The earlier, fleeting thought of their forced closeness resurfaced, bringing with it a strange heat to his cheeks. He quickly banished it. This wasn't the time for such thoughts. He had to understand her.
Xhaelyn's breath had begun to steady, but the urgency twisting in her chest hadn't faded. She pushed off the damp brick wall, eyes scanning the empty, smoke-kissed streets. They were hidden—for now. But this wasn't safety. Just a fragile pause between waves.
Her mind ran hot and fast, already mapping escape routes. Alleyways. Blind spots. Shadows they could disappear into. They needed distance, cover. If their pursuers regrouped and spread out, they'd be found.
"We can't stay here," she muttered—more to herself than to Zeritheus.
Zeritheus, still catching his breath, didn't respond immediately. He was watching her. Watching the cold gleam of her focus, the calculation behind every movement. Not fear. Not panic. Just ruthless, colorless urgency.
But even through the haze of smoke and adrenaline, he couldn't hold it back.
"Xhaelyn."
She turned, crimson eyes catching the glint of moonlight. Sharp. Alert.
"We need to keep moving," she said, already stepping forward.
"I know." His voice was low. Steady. But there was something in it—something that made her pause. "Just stop for a second."
She froze—not out of obedience, but because something in him felt... heavier.
He stepped closer, gaze flicking to the blood staining her sleeve. His fingers twitched—he almost reached out, but didn't.
"Back there… You didn't even flinch."
Xhaelyn frowned. "It was necessary."
"I'm not saying it wasn't," he replied, his voice softer. "But you cut yourself. Like it didn't matter."
"It didn't."
The answer came fast. Too fast.
Zeritheus's jaw clenched. He had expected it. And yet, hearing it made something tighten in his chest.
"You do matter," he said, the words almost a whisper.
Xhaelyn's expression flickered, a brief widening of her eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came, and she turned away, retreating back into her calculations.
"We don't have time for this."
"No time, huh, Ely?" Zeritheus said quietly. "Doesn't mean it doesn't count."
The words hung there. Too large for the moment. Too heavy. She didn't responded. Just her mind went momentary blank.
And in that pause, a shard of memory—long buried, filtered out—forced its way to the surface.
Void Barrier. The fleeting familiarity when he heard the name Zeritheus.
It echoed. Echoed like a name she'd heard before. Not just the spell—but the world it belonged to.
Pieces began clicking into place.
Ironclad Fang Mercenaries.
Eryndral.
The Velmoria Empire.
She had heard these words from people in this world—casual mentions, fragments in conversation to gather information before. But these words gave her a sense of familiarity as if she had read it somewhere. Not in this life. But because of her survival instinct, she dismissed it. Now, she realized...
She had indeed read them.
In a novel.
One of her past lives, though she couldn't say which. But the pieces fit.
This world—Eryndral—was from a book.
Her breath snagged. A creeping chill slid up her spine.
"Zerith..." Her voice slowed, deliberate. "Zeritheus... what's your full name?"
His brows furrowed, puzzled. Then hesitated.
"…Zeritheus... Vaene Lucian."
Vaene Lucian.
Everything froze.
Her breath caught with this shocking truth.