The growl rumbled like thunder low to the ground, vibrating through the stones beneath me before I even saw the thing behind the trees.
Three glowing eyes blinked once. Twice. Then a body moved behind them—massive, wrong. A creature half-shadow, half-bone, its limbs stretched too far, as though something had torn it apart and stitched it back together. Its breath steamed in the cold air, carrying the stench of rot and blood.
Kael didn't hesitate. He had his bow strung and an arrow drawn in one breath. His stance didn't falter. Calm, precise. But even he didn't hide the tension crawling up his back like a second spine.
"Get behind me," he said.
I didn't.
Something in me—reckless or right—told me this thing wasn't just here for him. It was here for me.
The creature stepped into the firelight, revealing claws curved like blades and a spine laced with jagged crystal. One eye focused on Kael. The other two settled on me.
I felt it then.
A tug in my chest, like someone pulling an invisible thread from my ribs.
The stone in my pocket burned.
The fire flared.
And the creature lunged.
Kael's arrow flew, striking the beast in the shoulder—but it didn't stop. It crashed into the circle, scattering embers and rocks, and Kael was already pulling another arrow, dancing back like wind.
I moved without thinking, reaching for the fire. The heat licked my fingers. I whispered the words Sable taught me—not spells exactly, but intention given shape.
Harness what you have.
Not what you don't.
I pressed the stone to my heart.
Light exploded from my chest—white, wild, rippling out in a sphere that slammed into the creature mid-leap.
It screeched, not in pain, but in rage. Like something ancient had just been denied its prey.
It staggered back. Kael shot again. This time the arrow sank deep into its throat.
Still, it kept coming.
Until I screamed.
Not a word. Not a name. Just will. Raw. Untamed. A command from deep in my blood.
The fire surged, surrounding the beast in a column of gold and white, blinding. Kael shielded his eyes. The creature wailed—this time in agony—and vanished in a flash of ash and smoke, leaving only a smoldering circle and a burn mark where its body fell.
Silence.
The forest exhaled.
Kael lowered his bow. He was sweating. "What the hell was that?"
I dropped to my knees. My limbs trembled, my breath shallow. The stone was cold again.
"I don't know," I said, voice hollow.
But I did.
It was a test.
And I'd passed. Barely.
---
We didn't sleep the rest of that night. Kael stood guard, though he never said it outright. And I stared into the fire, wondering how much longer I could pretend to be something I didn't understand.
By dawn, I felt different. Not stronger—more aware. Like something had been peeled back. A door unlocked.
Kael handed me a piece of dried meat and sat beside me. "You drew the magic."
"I didn't mean to."
"You still did."
He watched me chew in silence before speaking again. "There are people in the next town. Fighters. Thieves. One of them might know what that thing was. But you'll need a story. Something to hide what you are."
I looked at him sideways. "You mean lie."
"I mean survive."
I nodded. I could lie.
But I couldn't run.
---
We reached the town by noon. A place called Duskhaven—a crooked village tucked into a rocky valley, built like the bones of a long-dead beast. The people there didn't smile. They didn't ask questions, either. Just watched from behind shutters and beneath worn hoods.
Kael brought me to a tavern called The Crooked Bell. The wood was warped, the sign missing a letter, and the barkeep looked like he used to break bones for fun. But the fire was hot and the stew was thick, and no one asked my name.
Not at first.
But someone was watching.
A girl at the corner table. Pale hair, one eye covered with a faded blue ribbon. She sipped tea like she was at court, not in a room full of cutthroats.
She rose when Kael left to find supplies, drifting toward me like smoke.
"You've got stormlight in your blood," she said softly. "It's leaking through your skin."
I froze.
"Don't panic," she said, sliding into the chair opposite mine. "If I wanted to expose you, I would've done it last night. Or did you think the creature in the woods found you by chance?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you?"
"Someone who knows what's coming," she said. "And if you're smart, you'll come with me before Kael returns."
I hesitated. Everything about her was wrong and right at once. Her magic hummed softly under her skin, like a heartbeat.
I stood slowly. "Where are we going?"
"Where all secrets go to grow," she said, smiling. "The library beneath the mountain."
---
We left before Kael returned.
And I didn't leave a note.
Because something in me knew—this path wasn't about safety.
It was about becoming.
And to do that, I had to stop running toward people who made me feel safe…
And start running toward the truth.
Even if it broke me.
Even if it burned.
Even if it led me to the monsters first.
Because some monsters weren't meant to be fought.
Some were meant to be understood.
And maybe, just maybe… I was one of them.
Not the hero. Not the savior. But the question that had no answer. The spark the gods struck against the dark, unsure whether it would become flame or ruin.
The girl in the ribbon—her name was Iria—led me through the twisted backstreets of Duskhaven, speaking little, moving fast. People parted for her without realizing they did. A presence carved into the shadows.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked when the silence grew too loud.
She glanced back, her pace unbreaking. "Because you're dangerous. And I'd rather dangerous things be on my side."
I didn't reply. Because part of me liked how that sounded. Too much.
We reached the edge of town where the crags rose high, broken teeth of the world itself. Hidden between them was a narrow fissure, nearly invisible unless you were looking for it. Iria slid inside, and I followed—because I was done hiding from the dark. I needed to walk through it.
The path twisted down and down, carved stone beneath our feet, glowing fungus lighting the way in dull green pulses. The air turned cold, ancient. The kind of cold that remembered.
And then I saw it.
A vast underground library, carved into the mountain like a temple. Endless rows of towering shelves, spiraling staircases, bridges made of bone and starlight. Every book humming with a memory, a curse, or both.
Iria turned to me.
"This place," she said, "is forbidden to most. But it's also forgotten. The perfect place to learn things the world doesn't want you to know."
I stepped forward, heart thrumming.
And I felt it again—that pull in my chest. But this time, it wasn't fear. It was belonging.
Somewhere inside this mountain… a page was waiting with my name on it.
And I was ready to read it.
Even if it rewrote everything I thought I was.