The forest felt narrower than before. Every tree, every breath of wind carried the pressure of unseen eyes. Kael moved through the undergrowth with quiet steps, his cloak brushing damp leaves. The black sword rested against his back, humming faintly like something alive craving release.
He paused beside a stream, kneeling to drink.
His reflection looked back: pale, tired, and edged with something inhuman. The encounter with Liora had left a residue in his mind — silver light, predatory calm, and a name that tasted like danger.
Liora Vale.
Whoever she was, she carried her curse as though she'd been born to it.
The voice in Kael's head hissed with irritation.
"She is a rival. A chain meant to bind or be broken. Seek her."
"No."
Kael stood, wiping his mouth. "I seek the shrines."
"She stands between you and truth."
Kael ignored it and continued walking. He had learned early that acknowledging the curse's demands only encouraged it.
Hours passed before he reached the ridge overlooking Greyhollow — a small mining settlement nestled against the foot of the mountains. Smoke curled from chimneys, but the air felt wrong. Too quiet.
Kael descended the path, stepping into the outskirts.
Villagers whispered as he passed.
Some stared with wide eyes.
Others crossed themselves and pulled their children indoors.
He wasn't surprised. News of the mercenaries' ash-covered corpses had likely spread. The world always noticed when a curse bearer walked through it — fear traveled faster than truth.
Still, he needed information.
He approached a group of men repairing a cart near the blacksmith's forge. They stiffened as he neared.
Kael kept his tone calm. "I'm looking for someone."
"Not welcome here," one of the men muttered.
Kael didn't move. "A woman with silver eyes."
Silence fell instantly. One man stepped back. Another spat on the ground.
"You ought to run from that one," the eldest said, voice trembling. "She came through two nights ago. Walked right past the guards as if they weren't there. Took the old mountain path toward the ruined monastery."
Kael's heart tightened.
A shrine.
"What happened to the guards?" he asked quietly.
The man swallowed. "They're not… whole anymore."
A chill crawled up Kael's spine.
"She did something to them," another added. "Their shadows don't move right. They scream at night when the moon rises."
Kael stepped back from the men, mind already piecing the warnings together.
Liora was moving ahead of him — fast.
And if she reached the shrine first, whatever was sealed inside might awaken under her chain, not his.
The curse inside him pressed forward eagerly.
"Good. Hunt her. Spill her blood. Take her chain."
Kael clenched his jaw. "If she threatens me, I will."
The curse laughed softly.
"You still pretend this is choice."
Kael left the village, ignoring the glares. As he reached the trail leading up the mountain, he felt something shift — a tremor in the air, faint but real.
A pulse.
A heartbeat.
Not his.
The shrine was waking.
His steps quickened, boots crunching over frost.
Night fell swiftly on the mountain. Clouds swallowed the moon. And as Kael reached the abandoned monastery's outer gate, the air turned heavy, metallic — like the breath before a storm.
A scream cut through the darkness.
Kael drew his sword.
"Liora…" he whispered.
Whether she was inside by choice or by force, he didn't know.
But the next steps would bring them face to face again.
Not as strangers.
Not as rivals.
As something far more dangerous.