When Fire Remembers

Chaper 17 - No Way But Down

They had been walking for hours, and the forest was beginning to feel like a maze designed by madness.

"We are drawing circles for hours, Elf! I thought you knew this place!" Daghan snapped at Saelwyn, who had led them from the beginning.

Daghan wasn’t entirely wrong—it felt like they had seen the same twisted tree roots, mossy boulders, and forked paths a dozen times already. And yet, oddly enough, none of the trails had ever been exactly the same.

"It’s just a trap for untrained minds like yours, Dragon," Saelwyn shot back, using Daghan’s species as a retort. "We haven’t walked the same path twice. The forest tricks your eyes—repeats shapes, trees, shadows. But we are moving forward. You’d know it if you paid attention to the scent of the air, the roughness of the soil beneath your feet, or the angle of the sun."

Daghan muttered under his breath, "How am I supposed to feel a soil’s roughness under my boots?"

"Grön is hungry, boss. Can we take a break and eat?" the half-giant asked from the rear.

"This is the third time you’re eating, giant! At this rate, we’ll be out of food before we even reach the middle of the forest," Runi snapped.

"I’m not a tiny rodent like you. Big bodies need big meals," Grön grumbled, baring his teeth.

"That’s enough," Aksanaa cut in. "Please stop provoking each other. This journey is already unbearable. Let’s just take a break, then move on."

Saelwyn frowned. "We need to reach the river before sundown, Aksanaa. You know how unfriendly this forest gets at night."

"I know. Just a short break. Then we continue," she said.

Saelwyn exhaled and gave a reluctant nod.

Everyone dropped their packs and slumped to the forest floor. Aksanaa immediately felt the ache in her legs and ankles. She began rubbing her sore feet while Runi struggled to keep the food supplies out of Grön’s greedy hands.

Her gaze drifted—inevitably—to Daghan.

He was seated apart from the group, his cold blue eyes scanning the trees as if reading some hidden script. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but every inch of him hummed with restrained force. He tilted his head slightly to shake a stray strand of silver hair from his brow. Even now, seated in the dirt like the rest of them, there was a power radiating off him. Something commanding. Something ancient.

Dragons were rare—Aksanaa had never seen one until him. In this realm filled with elves, dwarves, and hippogriffs, dragons still stood apart. They ruled their obsidian towers, hoarded power and history like breath, and rarely mingled with those beneath them.

Yet here he was. Just a man, sitting on forest ground.

But he was not just a man.

She had to remember that. She had to.

Before she could finish her thought, a warm touch startled her. Saelwyn had knelt before her, gently rubbing her feet.

"You must be exhausted," he said.

"I’m fine. You don’t have to—" she began, trying to pull away.

He held her ankle softly. "I want to. You’re not like us, Aksanaa. They can walk for three days without rest. But you—you’re a delicate human. Don’t push yourself too hard."

Aksanaa stiffened.

She pulled her foot away with more force this time. "I said I’m fine, Saelwyn. I can keep up. Please stop treating me like I’m going to break."

A flicker of hurt crossed his face, but he didn’t protest. He stood and walked away silently.

As he moved, Aksanaa caught Daghan’s smirk.

It made her stomach twist.

"Break’s over," she said sharply, standing up. "We need to reach the river before nightfall."

Without another word, the party rose, gathered their gear, and continued forward—each step echoing with tension, each glance laced with memory or warning.

The forest had started to accept them—or so it seemed.

With every step, the landscape shifted. The trees grew taller, their trunks thicker, the light dimmer. Shadows stretched farther, longer, like reaching claws. Even Grön stopped grumbling about food. A hush fell over the group, the kind of silence that presses against your ribs and whispers you shouldn’t be here.

Something wicked was near.

Not long after, Saelwyn raised his hand sharply, signaling them to halt.

Daghan narrowed his eyes. “What now?”

“Shh.”

The elf’s pointed ears twitched. He was listening to something the rest couldn’t hear. Then he turned back, voice low and firm.

“We’re here.”

“Where exactly is here?” Daghan asked, arching a brow. But Saelwyn didn’t answer him directly. Instead, he gestured ahead—to a narrow, paved path half-concealed by moss and brush.

“There’s a trap beyond this point. One I helped build long ago.”

“What kind of trap?” Aksanaa asked.

Saelwyn turned toward her—and for the briefest moment, his gaze softened, like he’d forgotten the world around them.

Daghan groaned under his breath.

“Are you planning to explain today, elf?” he said, sharp.

Saelwyn blinked, snapping out of it. Aksanaa shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s a footfall-triggered trap,” Saelwyn finally said. “Step on the wrong stones, and the ground beneath you gives way. Below is a pit—and inside that pit, we once trapped a galabon lion.”

“What’s a galabon lion?” Aksanaa asked.

Runi cut in, her tone clipped. “Vicious. Strong. Fast. If it’s still alive after all these years… gods help whoever falls in.”

Daghan raised a brow. “You buried a monster under the road? Charming.”

Saelwyn ignored him. “From here on, step where I step. Exactly. No deviation.”

He moved first, hopping from stone to stone with swift, fluid precision.

Right. Right. Middle. Left. Middle again.

The group followed closely, mimicking his every step. Even Daghan, with a sneer, obeyed. Grön, however, struggled—his feet were far too large for the narrow stones. He teetered with every step, arms flailing for balance.

“I feel like a dancing cow,” he muttered. Runi glared at him from ahead.

“Less dancing. More stepping.”

One by one, they crossed the path.

Saelwyn made it to the other side. Then Runi. Then, after much effort, Grön landed on the final stone and let out a relieved sigh.

“I made it! Did you see that, boss? I—”

He turned toward Daghan to share his victory—

—and his heel slipped, nudging a moss-covered edge just outside the marked path.

There was a click.

Then a c***k.

Aksanaa and Daghan didn’t have time to speak. The ground beneath them split with a deep, ancient groan. The stones gave way.

Aksanaa’s eyes widened. Daghan’s stance shifted.

Without warning, the ground vanished beneath them.

Stone slabs gave way with a mechanical clack, and both Aksanaa and Daghan plunged into the darkness below, their startled screams tearing through the silence.

“Sael—!” her cry was cut short as the pit swallowed them whole.

With a final, deafening slam, the stone flaps snapped shut above them, sealing the hole like it had never been opened.

Only a cloud of dust lingered in the air.

And silence.