A pair of eyes watched from the shrouded canopy, nestled in the embrace of the ancient trees. Sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting shifting patterns of gold and shadow on the forest floor. A cloaked figure knelt on a low branch, a piece of parchment held delicately between gloved fingers. A single name was scrawled at the top in bold ink: Kai. Beneath it, a sum large enough to make any hunter salivate.
A slow grin spread across the figure's lips. A warrior of Kai's caliber—and a price like this? The day had just taken a far more interesting turn.
Without hesitation, they moved. In an instant, their hand sliced through the air, forming a sharp, blue crescent of water. The liquid shimmered unnaturally, slicing through the dappled sunlight as it carved through the leaves, racing toward its prey.
Kai had long since learned to trust his instincts. The moment the air shifted, he twisted his body, dodging with an efficiency honed through years of battle. The water slash whistled past him, embedding itself into the earth with a sharp hiss.
His sword was in his hand before the echo of the attack faded. Steel glinted coldly under the shifting rays of sunlight as his blue eyes flickered, scanning the depths of the forest. He didn't need to search for long.
A presence stirred. From the shadows, the cloaked figure emerged, steps soundless against the dampened leaves. Water coiled and twisted at their fingertips, alive with lethal intent. With a flick of the wrist, another attack erupted forth—a spiraling torrent, twisting unnaturally, surrounding Kai in a liquid prison.
The pressure constricted instantly. It pressed against his limbs, stealing his breath, his sword-arm dragging as though submerged in tar. Kai gritted his teeth, slashing at the encroaching walls, but the water merely reshaped itself, sealing every wound like flesh knitting over bone.
From beyond the swirling barrier, his attacker chuckled. "I caught myself a rare prey this time."
Their confidence was palpable. It would have been justified—against anyone else.
A whisper of wind coiled through the trees.
"Wind Slice."
A howling gust erupted from nowhere, razor-sharp and relentless. The water prison shattered, shards of liquid dispersing into mist as the wind surged forward. The hunter barely had time to react. A flicker of realization, of fear—then silence. Their body split in two, bisected cleanly. Their eyes, still wide with shock, reflected the harsh glare of the midday sun as they crumpled, lifeless.
The wind did not stop. It carved a path through the trees, tearing bark from trunks, uprooting ancient roots before finally fading into the afternoon air.
Kai stood amidst the carnage, sword lowered, gaze unreadable. Without sparing the fallen figure another glance, he turned and walked away. The parchment, now loosened from dead fingers, fluttered to the ground, its inked bounty glistening under the golden sunlight.
He didn't spare it a second glance.
***
Hours passed as Kai traveled deeper into the wilderness. The oppressive silence of the forest pressed against him, broken only by the occasional rustling of unseen creatures. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he found himself by a gently flowing stream. The water shimmered like molten silver beneath the starlit sky, its rhythm a quiet lullaby against the stillness of the world.
He sat down, the exhaustion of the day settling in his limbs. The fire he built was small, its glow barely reaching past the stones encircling it. Yet, even in its warmth, Kai remained alert.
It wasn't paranoia—it was survival.
So when he felt it—that delicate shift in the air, the weight of another's gaze—his fingers instinctively curled around his sword. In a single, fluid motion, he rose to his feet, blade bared.
A figure stood at the edge of the fire's light.
Her presence was ethereal. Soft, tousled white hair cascaded down her back, reflecting the flames like silk spun from the moon. Wings—pure, unblemished—rested against her shoulders, their feathery edges shifting as if disturbed by an unseen breeze.
She met his gaze, unflinching.
"Who are you?" Kai's voice was calm, yet firm.
The woman smiled. It was a gentle curve of the lips, neither mocking nor timid. "Hello there. My name is Lyra. Mind if I join you on your journey?"
Kai's grip on his sword tightened. "Join me?" His voice was edged with suspicion. "I don't know who you are. I travel alone."
Lyra's smile dimmed, but there was no disappointment—only a quiet understanding. "I see." She took a step closer, her wings folding neatly behind her. "I'm a goddess. It's been a few years since I arrived here. It gets lonely, you know? You must be lonely too."
A goddess. The words should have meant something—should have made him react. Yet, the way she spoke them, so matter-of-factly, made it feel as though she had simply stated the color of her hair.
More importantly—a few years?
Kai's instincts screamed at him. She was an enigma, her very presence an anomaly. But he had spent too long being hunted to be careless now.
"I'm sorry," he said at last, voice measured. "But we're not the same. I'd appreciate it if you just left me alone."
Lyra tilted her head slightly. Her expression was unreadable, yet something flickered in her golden eyes—something deep, something ancient.
She whispered, "I'll be following you regardless."
Kai exhaled slowly. He didn't understand her, nor her intentions, yet there was something disarming about her presence. He wasn't sure if it was curiosity, wariness, or something else entirely—but for the first time in a long while, he didn't mind the company.
"…Tell me about yourself," he found himself saying.
Lyra blinked, as if surprised by his interest. She hesitated, then looked away. "I was banished from my homeland a few years ago," she said softly. "I've been here ever since. There's a cave not far from here, by a field of silver flowers. It's peaceful there."
Her voice carried something indescribable. Nostalgia? Longing? Regret? Kai wasn't sure.
He had questions—many of them. But he wasn't someone who pried. He understood the weight of the past better than most.
So instead, he simply said, "You can do whatever you like."
For the first time, Lyra smiled—not the polite, careful smile from before, but something real.
They weren't quite companions. Not yet. But as Lyra spoke of the stars and the forgotten myths of old, and Kai listened in silence by the campfire's glow, he thought to himself:
It's not so bad, falling asleep next to someone else.