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Chapter 7 — Hunters of the Lost Voice
The river's current tore at Aren's legs, pulling him and Lirien along like they were nothing more than driftwood. Mist clung to the water's surface, hiding them from view, but the distant echo of hunting horns told him the Hunters weren't far behind.
"They're faster than I thought," Aren muttered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the rapids.
Lirien's hand tightened on his. "Keep your head down. Don't let them see your light."
Aren swallowed, forcing his fear down. He had fought before, yes—but nothing like this. Not organized, relentless killers trained to silence the world's listeners. Not human cruelty twisted into precision.
A shape rose from the mist—tall, cloaked figures gliding over the water's edge, their spears tipped with red crystals that seemed to hum with hunger. The Hunters.
"They know we're here," Lirien whispered. Her voice was calm, but Aren could see the tension in her eyes. "And they want the seed. They always want the seed."
The current slammed them against a jagged rock. Aren winced as Lirien cried out, but he steadied her. Her mana pulsed faintly, helping her float. The river wasn't just water—it was alive, echoing her presence.
Aren clenched his fists, drawing on the strange power lingering in his veins. The black flame from the previous battle flickered at his fingertips, uncontrolled, raw. He didn't want to fight—he didn't want to kill—but instinct took over.
A Hunter leapt from the shore, spear aimed for Lirien. Aren pushed her aside, the tip grazing his shoulder. Pain flared, sharp and hot, but adrenaline drowned it out. The river hissed around them, roots and currents rising to support their escape. The forest, the river, the world itself—it was helping.
Another Hunter swung his crystal blade, and Aren caught it midair, the force throwing him into the cold water. He surfaced gasping, seeing Lirien just a few meters away, her eyes glowing softly as she whispered to the river. Vines erupted from beneath the surface, whipping around the Hunters' legs, pulling one into the water's depths.
"They won't stop," Aren said, voice trembling. "There are too many of them!"
"They're not the world's only threat," Lirien said, determination sharpening her tone. "Survive first. Teach later."
They maneuvered through the rapids, weaving between jagged rocks, floating logs, and tangles of roots. Behind them, the Hunters faltered as the river's life twisted against them. Aren realized the current itself obeyed something greater—the same force that had summoned him here.
A particularly large Hunter surged ahead, almost reaching Lirien. Aren surged forward, black flame sparking along his arms. He didn't understand it yet, but instinct guided him. A wave of power erupted, throwing the Hunter back and creating a barrier of swirling water around them.
They collapsed on the riverbank, gasping, soaking, trembling—but alive.
Lirien's hand brushed his again. "The world saved us," she said softly, a hint of something warmer in her voice. "But it won't always."
Aren's chest heaved. "Then we keep moving. Together."
Somewhere upstream, the mist parted, revealing a faint glow—another path, another trial waiting. But for the first time since he had arrived, Aren felt… not fear, but purpose. The world had summoned no hero, but it had chosen him. And now, he would have to prove it.
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