Chapter 32 – The Hunt Begins
The morning mist hadn't cleared yet.
A thin veil of fog hung over the camp, and the smoke of dying fires drifted sideways instead of up. The smell of wet earth and resin lingered in the air. When Seryn woke, he wiped dew off the hilt of his blade. Beside him, Kai yawned; Rien was already awake, checking his bowstring.
Instructor Marith stepped out of his tent — dark green cloak, steady eyes.
"Today you will observe," he said. "Not attack. You will track."
The students stayed silent.
He spread a map on the ground — three color-coded routes.
"North path," he said, "a Shadow Forktail trail was reported. West, a group of forest scouts. South, heavy mist. Each team will trace, mark, and report. Don't panic. Surveillance spells are active."
Kai fixed his light armor. "Great, nothing to fear — we're being watched."
Rien gave him a dry look. "Says the one who panics first."
Seryn stayed quiet. He felt the faint hum of gray energy at his fingertips — a pulse reminding him: Control begins with breath.
"Daskal, Kai, Rien — north line," Marith ordered. "If you're not back by noon, the trace spell will find you. If I have to find you, you'll regret it."
Kai snorted. "That was a threat, right?"
"Both," said Marith, walking off.
---
The forest was cold.
The sky vanished behind a web of branches; light slipped through in narrow beams.
Rien led, listening to the soil. Kai brushed aside a branch.
"Just me, or does this forest breathe?" he whispered.
Seryn didn't answer.
He could actually feel it.
The gray current within him — ritual energy tangled with mana — resonated with the forest's pulse. Each rustle, each shift of soil, each crawling insect was a beat in that quiet rhythm.
"Wait," he said suddenly.
Rien crouched; Kai froze.
Two close depressions in the ground.
"Back feet," Rien murmured. "Weight shifted back, that means—"
"It's wounded," Seryn finished.
Kai frowned. "You two rehearsed this?"
Seryn pressed a finger into the soil; a faint gray gleam sharpened the print.
Rien noticed but said nothing.
"You did it again," he whispered.
"Did what?"
"The ground glowed when you touched it."
"Sunlight," Seryn said calmly.
Kai grinned. "Sure. The invisible sunlight above the canopy."
They moved on. The air grew heavier; the birds stopped singing.
The gray current in Seryn's veins rippled — something nearby disturbed it.
His shoulders tightened on instinct.
Rien slid an arrow onto the string.
"I thought we weren't attacking," Kai whispered.
"Being ready isn't attacking," Rien replied.
Between two trees, beneath a mossed rock, a black trace pulsed faintly.
Seryn crouched.
"Not blood," he said. "Magic residue."
Gray shimmer pulsed once more.
Kai saw it and sobered. "Seryn, that light—"
His golden eyes flashed once, then dimmed.
"Ritual and spell energy overlap here," he said quietly. "This residue isn't from a beast. It's Temple-marked."
Rien blinked. "Why would Temple sigils be here?"
"Maybe they're watching us," Kai said.
"Maybe watching someone," Seryn replied.
---
By noon, most teams had returned.
Marith waited, arms folded.
"What do you have?"
Rien spoke crisply. "No wounded beast, but found magic residue—Temple pattern."
Marith frowned. "Show me."
Seryn lifted a hand; gray energy rippled briefly, projecting the dark markings into air before fading.
The instructor said nothing.
Students whispered.
Finally, Marith spoke. "This stays between us. The Temple must not hear of it."
Kai smirked. "No one listens to us anyway, right?"
Marith's eyes cut to him. "Silence is often the deepest form of listening."
Kai closed his mouth. Rien lowered his head.
Seryn stayed still, thoughts circling.
Why would the Temple leave marks in a training forest?
"Rest," Marith said. "We reconvene at dusk."
---
By sunset, the camp quieted.
Kai dozed; Rien cleaned his bowstring.
Seryn held his hands over the fire, feeling gray hum between his fingers — that thin line between light and shadow.
Kai spoke suddenly. "Why do you think Marith watches you so closely?"
"Maybe because I make mistakes he catches faster," Seryn said.
"Maybe because of your potential," Rien added.
Seryn said nothing.
A small ember flicked up and died.
---
Night blanketed the camp.
Seryn lay inside his tent.
The gray glow rose from within him, reaching the fabric above.
Then — a vision. Stone hall. Three shadows. A woman's voice:
'Mend what was broken, but don't complete it.'
He gasped awake; the light vanished.
Sweat ran down his brow.
That same woman's voice — the one from his blurred memories.
He sat up, counting breaths.
Four short. Two short.
Wind slipped through the tent flap.
The past is coming back, he thought.
And I'm still not ready.
---
💬 Author's Note:
Survival training doesn't just test instinct — it reveals what hides within.
Seryn's gray energy awakens, reacting to the forest itself.
But the Temple's traces in the wild hint that the true hunt has only begun. ⚔️