Runes of the Forsaken

Shadows of the Past

The ravine led them into a labyrinth of narrow passages and jagged cliffs, where the sunlight barely pierced the thick canopy above. Eryndor trailed behind Kaelen, her boots crunching on loose rocks as the air grew colder and heavier. It had been hours since they fled the soldiers, and the silence between them felt just as suffocating as the shadows around them.

Finally, Kaelen stopped near a natural overhang, where the rocky wall jutted out to form a crude shelter. “We’ll rest here,” he said, setting down his pack. He gestured to a dry patch of ground near the wall. “Unless you’d rather keep walking until your legs give out.”

Eryndor bit back a retort and sat down, wincing as she stretched her aching legs. She’d never admit it, but she was grateful for the pause. The strain of the day—both physical and emotional—was catching up with her.

Kaelen crouched nearby, pulling a small flint from his pocket. “I’ll get a fire going. The nights here are colder than they look.”

As he struck the flint, sparks flared briefly in the dimness. Eryndor watched him work, her thoughts swirling. She still didn’t know what to make of him. His sharp tongue and casual demeanor grated on her nerves, but she couldn’t deny that he’d saved her life—twice now.

“You’re awfully calm for someone who’s being hunted,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

Kaelen smirked, not looking up from the fire. “Comes with the territory. This isn’t my first time running for my life.”

“That much is obvious,” she muttered, leaning back against the wall. “But why were they after you? What did you steal?”

The fire crackled to life, casting flickering light over his face. For a moment, he looked almost serious. “Let’s just say it was something valuable. Something they didn’t want falling into the wrong hands.”

“And by ‘wrong hands,’ you mean yours?”

Kaelen laughed softly, shaking his head. “You wound me, Eryndor. I’m not the villain here.”

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You expect me to believe you’re some kind of hero?”

“Not a hero,” he admitted, sitting down across from her. “Just a man trying to survive. Like you.”

Eryndor didn’t respond. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the faint warmth of the fire doing little to chase away the chill that had settled over her.

Kaelen leaned back, watching her with a calculating expression. “You’re not going to tell me why they were after you, are you?”

“No,” she said simply.

“Fair enough,” he replied, though the curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade. “But I have to say, for someone who’s ‘just trying to survive,’ you’re carrying an awful lot of trouble around with you.” His gaze flicked briefly to her gloved hand, where the faint glow of her rune was barely visible.

Eryndor instinctively pulled her hand closer to her chest, hiding it beneath her cloak.

Kaelen’s smirk faded, replaced by something more thoughtful as he studied her. “No one chooses the hand they’re dealt,” he said, his tone unusually quiet. “The only choice we have is what we do with it.”

Eryndor turned her face away, her cloak shifting to hide the faint glow of her rune entirely. The weight of his words pressed against her chest, but she refused to let it show. Kaelen didn’t understand—he couldn’t. To him, her rune was probably nothing more than a tool or a curiosity. He didn’t know the fear it brought her, or the countless nights she’d spent wishing it away.

The fire crackled between them, filling the silence as Kaelen leaned back and stared at the darkened sky beyond the ravine. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice lighter, “for someone who’s carrying a big secret, you’re pretty bad at blending in.”

Eryndor shot him a glare. “I wasn’t exactly planning to go on the run today.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair point. But if you want to stay alive, you might want to learn how to disappear. Not every town you stumble into is going to give you a warm welcome.”

“I’ll manage,” she said, her voice colder than she intended.

Kaelen raised his hands in mock surrender. “Suit yourself. Just trying to help.”

Eryndor’s jaw tightened, but she forced herself to stay quiet. She didn’t need his help. She didn’t need anyone’s help. Yet, as she glanced at him, sitting there with the firelight flickering over his sharp features, she couldn’t deny that he’d been useful—infuriating, but useful.

A distant howl cut through the night, low and mournful. Eryndor stiffened, her hand instinctively reaching for the small dagger at her belt. “What was that?” she whispered.

Kaelen’s smirk returned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wolves,” he said. “Big ones. The kind that don’t care much for fire.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“Relax,” he said, leaning back. “They’re far enough away. For now.”

For now. The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the dangers surrounding them. Eryndor’s grip on her dagger didn’t loosen, even as the howls faded into the distance.

Kaelen tossed another branch onto the fire, the flames flaring higher. “Get some rest,” he said, his tone softer. “We’ll need to move at first light.”

Eryndor hesitated. Trust didn’t come easily to her, especially not with someone like Kaelen. But exhaustion was pulling at her, and the thought of facing another day without sleep was unbearable. Reluctantly, she lay down on the cold ground, her dagger still clutched tightly in her hand beneath her cloak.

Kaelen shifted, settling into a position where he could keep watch. “Sweet dreams,” he said with a faint grin, though his eyes were already scanning the darkness beyond the firelight.

Eryndor didn’t respond. She closed her eyes, the distant echoes of the wolves’ howls mingling with the crackle of the fire. In the quiet, her thoughts turned to the rune on her palm, its faint warmth a constant reminder of the power and danger she carried.

Somewhere in the shadows, something was waiting. And deep down, Eryndor knew that her journey was only just beginning.