The knight's finger tightened on the trigger. The acrid stench of iron and charred pine clung to his frayed Covenant surcoat, the silver Lumina crest sewn crookedly over his heart as if he'd stitched it himself in a hurry. Kael's twisted ankle throbbed so hard he could taste copper at the back of his throat, but he didn't hesitate. His hand closed around the hilt of his upgraded dagger before the thought fully formed. Some distant, half-forgotten memory of throwing broken beer darts in a dim Brooklyn dive bar at 19, competing for free fries with his college roommate, clicked into place at the back of his mind, steadying his wrist.
He didn't dump half his Augment points into speed or strength. He siphoned one single point into his dominant forearm, just enough to sharpen the edge of his throw, enough that no casual observer would call it superhuman. The dagger left his hand in a blur, and the knight grunted as the blade buried itself three inches deep in his crossbow arm. The weapon jerked upward, the bolt firing into the dirt three inches from Elara's boot, sending a spray of red Wastes sand into her face. She blinked it away, her eyes wide with shock for half a second before she locked onto Kael, a flicker of something warm and grateful crossing her face before she snapped her gaze back to the wounded knight.
"Lucky throw, bastard," the knight snarled, yanking the dagger free with a wet, tearing sound. He dropped the useless crossbow, his free hand closing around the hilt of the broadsword at his waist. Blood ran down his arm in thick rivulets, dripping onto the dust at his feet. "Theron sends his regards, wild rat. You and your stray friend won't live to spread your lies about the Covenant."
Kael shifted his weight to his good leg, his jaw tight. Theron's name hung in the cold air like a curse, sharp and heavy. He'd heard enough about the 400-year-old high priest in the last week to know the knight wasn't exaggerating: Theron would kill anyone who threatened his hoard of stolen blessing shards, anyone who dared to reveal the birth stat cap system was a lie manufactured to keep the poor weak and compliant. The knight's blood was already seeping into the red sand at his feet, dark and viscous, and Kael didn't miss the way his left hand trembled slightly as he wrapped it around his broadsword hilt. The man was running on adrenaline, same as they were.
The knight charged, sword raised over his head. Kael didn't waste another Augment point. He dodged to the side, the blade slicing through the empty air where his chest had been a half second earlier, and drove his good boot into the back of the knight's knee. The man crumpled with a shout, his face hitting the dirt hard enough to crack his nose. Kael kicked the sword out of his reach before he could push himself back up. The blade skittered across the rocks, clattering into a patch of dry sage, and the knight swore again, spitting blood into the dirt.
Footsteps thundered from the ravine path behind them. The remaining two Covenant soldiers from the hunt squad burst into the open, crossbows raised, and Kael's stomach dropped. He had six Augment points left, enough to take both of them down, but doing so would mean revealing his power to anyone watching. Elara stepped in front of him, her own short sword drawn, her knuckles white around the hilt. The scar that ran up her left forearm, the one she'd gotten protecting that 7-year-old Wildwalker child from a Covenant raid three years prior, was visible where her tunic sleeve had slid down, and Kael's chest tightened a little. He wasn't about to let her get hurt again, not when he could stop it.
Then three figures emerged from the pine tree line to their left, moving so quiet Kael hadn't heard them approach. They wore leather armor stitched with pine bough insignia, their faces streaked with ash and mud, and they held shortbows nocked with bright green fletched arrows. Before the Covenant soldiers could turn their crossbows, the scouts fired. The arrows hit both men in the shoulder, and they crumpled to the ground, unconscious before they hit the dust. The tips were coated in sleepthorn, Kael remembered Elara telling him about the plant a day prior, native to the Wastes, strong enough to knock out a bear for three hours without permanent harm. Good, they weren't killing unarmed men, that lined up with everything he'd learned about the Wildwalkers so far.
The lead scout, a woman with a scar slicing through her left eyebrow and a braid of dark hair streaked with gray, stepped forward, her bow still half-raised. "Elara Voss. We heard the crossbow shot. Thought you might be in trouble."
Elara let out a breath she'd been holding, her sword clattering to the ground. "Mara. Thank the green. I thought we were done for." She gestured to Kael, who was still leaning against the ravine wall to take weight off his throbbing ankle. "This is Kael. He's with me. Trusted."
Mara's eyes flicked to Kael, then to the three unconscious Covenant men on the ground, then to the dagger still buried in the lead knight's arm, then back to Elara. Her expression didn't soften, but she lowered her bow. "The camp's been on high alert for three days. Theron's patrols have been pushing closer than usual. We weren't expecting you for another twelve hours."
"We took a shortcut through the cave fissure," Elara said, bending down to grab the crumpled map from the lead knight's pocket. She spread it out, showing Mara the smudged ink of the innkeeper's handwriting, the Covenant stamp in the corner. "This bastard stole the map from the Rusty Tankard. Tracked us all the way through the cave. He was sent directly by Theron to kill me, to cover up the shard hoard."
Mara's jaw tightened. She nodded to the other two scouts, who moved forward to tie the unconscious Covenant men's hands behind their backs with thick hemp rope, careful not to jostle the sleepthorn arrows still stuck in their shoulders. "We'll bring them back for questioning. If they're working directly for Theron, they'll have information we can use. Let's get you two back to the camp. The healers can look at that ankle of yours, Kael."
Kael nodded, pushing himself off the wall. He stumbled a little, and Elara's hand wrapped around his elbow to steady him. Her palm was warm through the thin fabric of his tunic, and he could smell the pine salve she'd rubbed into her own cuts earlier that morning, mixed with the faint, sharp scent of wild mint. He noticed a tiny smudge of ash on her left cheek, leftover from the cave fire they'd huddled around the night before, and he almost lifted a hand to brush it off before he remembered Mara was standing ten feet away, watching them. "Easy," she said, her voice soft. "Your ankle's been throbbing for hours, you idiot. You didn't have to throw that dagger. You could have gotten hurt."
Kael laughed, a dry, breathless sound. "You think I was gonna let him shoot you? Not after we made it this far." He glanced down at her hand on his elbow, and she pulled it away quickly, her cheeks turning pink. She turned to walk beside him, her gaze fixed on the tree line ahead, and Kael smiled to himself. The younger of the two other scouts, a boy no older than 16 with a gap between his front teeth, winked at him over his shoulder as he walked ahead, and Kael had to bite back a second laugh.
The walk to the camp was only two hundred yards, but it felt like the longest, quietest walk Kael had taken since he'd woken up in the Wastes. The sun was coming up over the jagged rock formations to the east, painting the sky pink and orange, streaked with thin wisps of pale purple cloud, and the cold wind carried the smell of wood smoke and baking bread from the camp ahead, sharp and warm and welcoming. The Wastes sand crunched under their boots, mixed with fallen pine needles that smelled like Christmas trees back home, and the only sounds were the quiet chatter of the scouts ahead of them, the distant call of a wren, the soft whistle the 16-year-old scout was humming under his breath— a tune that sounded weirdly, perfectly like the lullaby his grandma used to sing to him when he had a fever as a kid, and Kael's chest felt tight for a whole different reason now.
Elara didn't speak for most of the walk. She kept her hands stuffed in the pockets of her tunic, her gaze down at the ground. When they were fifty yards from the camp gates, she stopped, turning to face Kael. He stopped too, leaning against a gnarled pine tree to take weight off his ankle.
She pulled something crumpled from her tunic pocket, holding it out to him. It was the wild mint sprig he'd picked for her the day before, when they'd been hiding in the cave, the leaves a little crushed but still bright green, still holding that sharp, fresh scent. He'd almost forgotten he'd given it to her, grabbed it on a whim when he'd stepped outside the cave to pee, because it smelled like the spearmint gum he used to chew through every shift at the Brooklyn coffee shop he'd worked at before the truck hit him. "I kept it," she said, her voice so quiet he almost didn't hear it over the wind. Her cheeks were pink again, and she wouldn't meet his eyes, picking at a loose thread on her tunic sleeve. "When we were climbing down the ravine, I thought we were gonna fall. I squeezed it so hard I almost crushed all the leaves. It reminded me of Mia. She used to pick mint from the garden behind our cottage, make tea with it when I was sick, when mom and dad were out trading."
Kael took the sprig from her, running his finger over the soft leaves. The sharp, fresh scent filled his nose, and he smiled. "I'm glad it helped." He handed it back to her, and she tucked it back into the inner pocket of her tunic, right over her heart, her fingers brushing his for half a second. "Your sister sounds like she was pretty great."
Elara nodded, wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye with the back of her hand, sniffling a little and laughing at herself. "She was. She would've liked you. She always said the best people are the ones who don't stand around waiting for someone else to fix things." She gestured to the camp gates ahead, which were swinging open, a group of people waving at them from inside, and Kael could hear a little kid's high-pitched shout of "Elara!" from the other side. "C'mon. The healers will be waiting. And I want you to meet the council. They're gonna lose their minds when you tell them about your power."
Kael nodded, pushing himself off the tree. He took a step forward, and a sharp, warm surge flooded through his chest, so strong he staggered a little. Elara grabbed his elbow again, her brow furrowed with concern. "You okay? Your ankle get worse?"
"I'm fine," Kael said, shaking his head. He blinked, and his stat screen flickered to life in front of his eyes, only visible to him.> ESSENCE GAINED: 15 (defeated lead Covenant knight, level 2)> TOTAL ESSENCE: 44/100> AUGMENT POINTS REMAINING: 6> NEW UNLOCK AVAILABLE: PASSIVE AUGMENT SLOT (UNLOCK AT 50 ESSENCE)
He closed the screen quickly, before Elara could notice his eyes were unfocused. He smiled at her, and she relaxed, letting go of his elbow. "Just a little lightheaded. Haven't eaten since last night."
"Wait till you try the camp's oat bread," she said, grinning. "The bakers bake it with honey and sunflower seeds. It's better than any of the fancy stuff the Covenant nobles hoard in the city." She started walking toward the gates again, and Kael followed her, his ankle still throbbing, but lighter than he'd felt in days.
The little girl who'd shouted Elara's name came barrelling toward them before they even stepped through the gates, her brown pigtails braided with white daisies, her boots scuffed at the toes. She wrapped her arms tight around Elara's legs, and Elara laughed, leaning down to pick her up, spinning her around once before settling her on her hip. "Lila, what are you doing out of the crafts tent? I thought you were making friendship bracelets today." Lila held up a crudely braided red and blue bracelet, grinning, then held out a half-eaten piece of honey cake to Kael, crumbs sticking to her cheeks. "For you. Elara said you helped her fight the bad men." Kael took the small bite, the honey sweet on his tongue, the cake crumbly and warm, better than any pastry he'd bought from the fancy bakery down the street from his apartment back home. "Thanks, Lila. That's the best cake I've ever had." Lila beamed, wiggling out of Elara's arms to run back toward the crafts tent, shouting over her shoulder that she'd make him a bracelet too.
An older woman with gray hair pulled back in a bun, wearing a green leaf pin on her tunic, stepped forward, holding a basket of supplies. "Kael, right? Mara sent word about your ankle. I'm Healer Marnie. Let's get that wrapped before you go see the council, yeah?" She had him sit on a wooden stool by the gate, rolling up his pant leg to examine the swollen, purple skin around his ankle. She spread a warm, thick comfrey poultice over it, wrapping it tight with linen bandages, and the throbbing eased almost immediately, the cool seeping into his skin. "Stay off it as much as you can for the next day," she said, handing him a small ceramic jar of salve. "Rub this on it before bed. It'll be good as new in three days, no permanent damage." Kael thanked her, tucking the jar into his tunic pocket, and stood up, testing his weight on the ankle. It still ached, but it was manageable.
The camp was bigger than he'd expected. There were dozens of canvas tents arranged in a circle around a large central fire pit, where women and children were sitting, stirring pots of stew that smelled like root vegetables and venison, mending clothes, laughing. A group of teenagers were practicing swordplay in the corner, their shouts echoing through the camp, their instructor calling out corrections as they swung their wooden practice swords. A pair of old men were sitting on a log by the fire, playing a board game with carved stone pieces, arguing good-naturedly about the rules. A healer was tending to a man with a cut on his forehead outside a tent marked with a green leaf symbol, scolding him for climbing a pine tree to get pinecones for the kids.
Elara waved at a group of people who called her name as they walked past, stopping for a second to hug an older man who asked how her trip to the Rusty Tankard went, and Kael followed her toward the largest tent at the back of the camp, where a group of three people were standing waiting for them. The woman in the middle was tall, with silver hair braided down her back, wearing a leather cloak lined with rabbit fur. She held a wooden staff carved with pine bough runes, and her eyes were sharp, taking in every detail of Kael's face as he approached, the bandage around his ankle, the rusted dagger at his waist, the small jar of salve sticking out of his pocket.
"Elara," the woman said, her voice deep and warm, like honeyed tea. "We were worried. Mara sent a runner ahead to tell us what happened. Are you hurt?"
"Fine, Jessa," Elara said, smiling. She gestured to Kael. "This is Kael. He's the one I told you about in the message I sent last week. He has information about Theron's shard hoard that's gonna change everything."
Jessa's eyes flicked to Kael, and she nodded, holding out a hand to shake. Kael took it, her grip firm and calloused from years of holding a bow. "Welcome to the Wildwalker camp, Kael. We don't let many outsiders in, but if Elara trusts you, that's good enough for us. Let's get you inside. We've got venison stew fresh on the fire, and oat bread still warm from the oven. Then you can tell us everything you know."
Kael nodded, following Jessa and Elara into the tent. The air inside was warm, smelling of pine and dried sage and chamomile, and there was a small fire burning in a stone pit in the center, with a stack of papers and maps spread out on a wooden table next to it. A small wooden carving of a fox, the Wildwalker symbol of good luck Elara had told him about, sat on the corner of the table, its little tail curled around its paws. Furs were piled in the corner for seating, and a string of dried lavender hung from the tent pole, swaying gently in the draft from the tent flap. As he stepped over the threshold, he felt that warm surge of Essence again, stronger this time, and his stat screen flickered to life once more.> ESSENCE GAINED: 7 (entered Wildwalker safe zone, first faction alliance secured)> TOTAL ESSENCE: 51/100> PASSIVE AUGMENT SLOT UNLOCKED: SELECT AUGMENT TO UPGRADE> OPTIONS: REGEN (10% FASTER HEALING), SPEED (5% PERMANENT BOOST), STEALTH (8% REDUCED DETECTION RADIUS)
He closed the screen quickly, his heart racing. He had a new passive slot. He could pick a permanent upgrade, no Augment points needed. He'd think about which one to pick later, after he'd eaten, after he'd talked to the council. Right now, he had more important things to do. He sat down on a fur-covered wooden stool next to Elara, who was pouring him a cup of hot mint tea from a chipped ceramic pot, sweetened with a dollop of wild honey, and smiled. It smelled exactly