The Kaelinths shimmered under the fading light—small, lean-bodied predators with long, whip-like tails and large, alert ears that pulsed with subtle energy. Their fur caught the dying rays of the sun, refracting them in hues of silver and blue, like moonlight made flesh. Their eyes gleamed with an eerie, calculating glow—not mindless beasts, but creatures bred by the world's forgotten laws.
Arin crouched low behind a moss-covered stone, one hand steady on his sword's hilt, the other bracing against the cool ground. The air carried tension, thick with the scent of damp leaves and animal musk.
This was no training arena. This was real.
Across the narrow clearing, Evelyne waited, cloaked by the twisted roots of an overturned tree. Her posture was fluid, a coiled spring of quiet strength. In her hand, her dagger reflected the sun's final light, as though it longed for blood.
Arin's thoughts were still—but not empty. His heartbeat no longer thudded wildly, only pulsed with sharp awareness.
He had learned more in these past months under his mother's demanding care than he ever had in his previous life. Not in brute strength—but in rhythm, timing, stillness.
And right now, it was time.
---
They moved.
The bait—dried meat and animal musk wrapped in cloth—had been placed in the center of a natural depression in the earth. One of the Kaelinths crept forward, nose twitching, its movements slow and deliberate. Its kindred circled the outer ring of trees, keeping to the brush.
It took the bait.
That was Evelyne's cue.
She burst from the roots like a shadow catching flame—silent, swift, precise. Her dagger struck downward, aiming for the creature's neck. But the Kaelinth twisted mid-lunge—its tail snapping up like a whip—and deflected the attack with startling grace.
It hissed, shimmering into near-invisibility.
Arin didn't hesitate.
He broke from cover and charged. His blade sliced through air as he intercepted the fleeing creature, aiming not to kill—but to block. He drove his foot into the Kaelinth's path and redirected its momentum with the flat of his blade, sending it tumbling sideways.
Evelyne was already there.
She struck low, her dagger digging into the creature's side.
A scream—high, bone-rattling—and the Kaelinth went limp.
But the real danger had just begun.
---
Three more Kaelinths surged from the brush, their bodies flickering with unnatural speed. One twisted through the trees like smoke. Another leapt from a branch high above—ambush.
Arin saw it only in a flash of instinct.
He raised his sword—too late.
Slash! Claws ripped across his shoulder, sharp and white-hot. Blood bloomed through the fabric of his tunic. The impact drove him to his knees, pain stealing his breath.
But training took over.
"When you fall, fall with control," his mother had drilled into him. "Use the momentum."
He spun with the force, driving his sword upward in a crescent. It clipped the creature's leg—not deep, but enough to make it stumble.
Another Kaelinth came for him, mouth wide, fangs bared.
He gritted his teeth, raised his arm—not for defense, but to draw its focus—then stabbed low, aiming for the belly.
It veered just enough to dodge, but its tail cracked like a whip and lashed his ribs.
Pain screamed across his side.
Arin gasped, but didn't fall. He twisted again, dropped into a crouch, and forced himself upright.
One of the Kaelinths lunged toward Evelyne. She flipped backward, used a tree trunk for leverage, and came down hard—her dagger punching into the creature's shoulder. It shrieked and bucked, but she held on, riding the movement until her blade found its throat.
Arin, gasping, faced the last one.
It was wary. Smarter than the rest. It circled him with measured steps, tail low to the earth, eyes locked onto his wound.
Blood dripped from his arm.
He could barely hold his blade steady.
But still… he waited.
"Sometimes," Helena had said, "patience kills faster than fury."
When the Kaelinth finally lunged, Arin didn't block.
He stepped sideways and used the weight of his own body to drive the hilt of his sword into the creature's jaw.
It reeled—and Evelyne was there. Again. Quiet, like breath. Her blade ended it.
The forest fell silent.
Only two had escaped. But they would not return.
---
Evening settled in, casting long shadows over the forest. The last traces of sunlight died behind the trees, and the moon crept upward, casting silver over the bloodied earth.
Arin knelt beside the wounded Kaelinth he had first struck. Its breathing had slowed, blood soaking the leaves. He exhaled, steadying his own hand as he ended its pain quickly.
Then, he fell back, exhaustion catching up like a wave.
Evelyne came to him at once, kneeling beside him, her hands already wrapping cloth around his bleeding shoulder.
"You're getting too good at getting hurt," she murmured.
"I like to think of it as… hands-on learning," he said through a wince.
She rolled her eyes but tightened the knot with care. "You moved like someone who's been training for years."
"I have been," Arin replied. "In a way."
They sat there, moonlight streaming through the trees above. Around them, the clearing was quiet—death-silent. The Kaelinths were gone. But something had shifted.
Arin wasn't the same boy who had awoken in House Devain, lost and uncertain.
He wasn't strong.
But he was learning.
And tonight, the forest had taught him something no noble hall ever could.