THE GLOW THAT MUST NOT BE SEEN
1228 Words
Zora’s steps halted. The headquarters gate stood wide open before her, yawning like the mouth of a giant ready to devour anyone who dared enter.
A towering stone building bearing the witch hunter insignia loomed at the heart of Velmira village, encircled by wooden fences and a crowd of villagers watching something on the open training field.
Cheers and the pounding of footsteps blended with the clashing of weapons, echoing all the way to the street.
“Our weekly sparring,” said the man with the umbrella who had helped her at the market earlier. “Looks like we’re right on time.”
Zora gave a small nod and walked forward beside the man.
Just a few steps into the compound, her ears were greeted by loud chatter from the fence surrounding the field.
“That i***t again? Against Drek this time? He must have a death wish!”
“He’s only good at memorizing theory. In a real fight, he’s useless.”
“Aren will be down in two—no, one minute. Five coins says so!”
Zora turned toward the voices. Several hunters stood with arms crossed, smug grins plainly visible on their faces.
Those jeers weren’t encouragement—they were counting down to failure.
Aren...?
Zora furrowed her brow and moved closer to the fence, and that’s when her eyes found the figure in the middle of the field.
The man she had been waiting for all day. It was Aren.
He stood tall, wooden sword in hand. His breathing was steady despite the sweat soaking his body.
His opponent was much larger—muscular, gripping two wooden swords—and had the face of someone who lived to destroy, not to hold back.
“Can he win?” Zora asked softly to the man beside her.
The man looked at the field, then turned to her. “You know Aren?”
Zora nodded faintly. “Hmm. I know him.”
But what she saw on that field was a side of Aren she had never seen before.
Not just a reckless young man who had once saved her, but a fighter.
Zora stood frozen. Something trembled in her chest—not magic, but a connection both painful and warm.
His power lived in that body. But what gripped her was how Aren could still stand, even when the whole world seemed to want him to fall.
Meanwhile, the man beside her simply stared at Zora in silence. His dark gray eyes studied her, as if trying to piece together every subtle expression that crossed her face.
And on the field, the match began.
Drek charged first. Aren dodged just a split second before the blade could strike his skin.
One move. Then another. Aren was still holding his own.
But then, he was thrown to the ground.
His body jolted. His breath caught. Blood trickled from his left temple.
Dust clung to his sweaty face. His eyes fought to stay open even as his vision blurred.
“Get up!” one of the hunters outside the field shouted. “You’re pathetic!”
Drek approached slowly, spinning his sword lazily as if he felt no threat at all.
Aren tried to stand, though his knees trembled. But just halfway up, a hard blow landed on his gut.
Air vanished from his lungs. He crashed down again, harder and more painfully.
The crowd around the fence burst into laughter.
But outside the fence, Zora was frozen still.
Her eyes widened as she saw Aren sprawled on the ground.
At that moment, a strange sensation surged from her chest to her temples. Dizzying and hot.
Her eyes burned, as if something was trying to force its way out.
A flash of golden-violet light flickered. Her eyes glowed.
On the field, Aren—his vision fading—turned. He saw her.
That glowing gaze...
His body trembled. Not from pain, but from fear.
‘No one must see that,’ he thought.
With what little strength he had left, Aren forced himself up, even as his knees shook and blood dripped from his temple.
Drek laughed. “Still standing? Impressive. But this ends now. I—”
He stopped when he saw the look in Aren’s eyes. Calm and focused, like a shadow that knows how to burn.
Then suddenly, Aren leapt. His movements were swift, precise, and unpredictable.
His sword struck Drek’s head hard enough to make the man stagger, then collapse, unconscious.
Silence.
The hunters by the fence were speechless. Even Master Sio, who had just arrived, was stunned.
Aren stood at the center of the field, his body trembling, his face bloodied and bruised, but his eyes fixed on one thing: Zora.
She stood with her head lowered, both hands raised to cover the fading glow from her eyes.
Breathing heavily, Aren staggered past Drek’s unmoving body.
His steps faltered. His feet nearly dragged the dirt. But he kept going.
When he reached her, Zora still hadn’t looked up.
“Zora, why are you here?” he asked softly. His voice was hoarse and heavy.
Zora didn’t answer. Only silence.
“I brought her,” the gray-eyed man beside Zora said. “She said she wanted to meet a witch hunter.”
Aren looked at him, then replied, “Oh, Kavi. Hmm, thanks for keeping her safe.”
Panicked, Aren placed his hands on Zora’s shoulders, quickly checking her for unseen danger.
“Come on, we have to go.”
Everyone watched as Aren walked away with the strange woman.
None of them knew who she was—except Master Sio and a few witch hunters who had brought Aren and Zora home that night.
“You shouldn’t be here, Zora. I told you to wait at my house.”
Aren’s voice lowered, but the urgency in it sharpened.
He glanced around, making sure no one else had seen the golden-violet glow.
There was fear in his voice—not of enemies, but of the possibility that Zora might be harmed because of him.
Zora looked up slowly, her gaze steady once more.
“I’m fine,” she said softly.
“But your eyes earlier—”
“It’s gone. The pain, too. But you... you were awful! If you’d died back there, I’d be the one in trouble.”
Her tone was teasing, but her face showed worry.
Aren still wasn’t convinced. His hands remained on her shoulders, as if afraid she might vanish. As if afraid Zora would shatter like he almost did moments ago.
“I can’t bear it if that happens again,” Aren whispered, barely audible.
“If your eyes shine and they see you... I’m afraid I won’t be able to save you. And I... I can’t let that happen.”
Even so, he knew one thing for certain.
If her eyes glowed again in a place like this, everything would change.
And Aren knew—this wasn’t the time.
Just as silence enveloped them, calm footsteps approached from the field.
“Aren,” said Kavi, his tone polite but firm. “Master Sio wants to see you.”
Aren turned. “Now?”
Kavi nodded. “Yes, and he wants to see you too,” he said, glancing at Zora.
Aren and Zora exchanged looks.
A new anxiety flickered in their eyes, but there was no other choice.
- Writer
