Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: Shadows in Exile

The forest was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers. The gnarled, twisted trees seemed to close ranks around me, as if eager to trap me in their embrace. My bare feet, cut by rocks and roots, left a trail of blood that gleamed under the moonlight. It didn't matter. I couldn't stop. Not after what I'd done. Not after what I'd seen.Lirien was dead. The village, my supposed home, had spat me out like poison. And in my mind, that voice—the Umbral—kept speaking, mocking, promising. "The world fears you, Echo. But fear is power. Use it." I gripped the broken amulet in my hand, its sharp edges cutting into my skin. It was all I had left of her, the woman who had called me her son though I barely knew her. The runes carved into the black stone pulsed as if alive, but I had no time to decipher them. Not when the echo of the village's screams still rang in my ears.I was five years old—or at least this body was. But my mind was Kael's, the strategist who had orchestrated wars and survived betrayals. I had calculated every move, every risk, only to die stabbed by someone I trusted. That mistake wouldn't happen again. I would never trust again. Never be weak again.The forest opened into a clearing, and I stopped, panting. The air was cold, but my body burned as if the Éther still coursed through my veins, seeking an outlet. I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but a flash seized me. Shadows swirled, forming something… a throne? Barely discernible, carved from black stone, shrouded in mist. Voices whispered, fragments of words I couldn't grasp, but the Umbral laughed, its voice like a distant echo: "You will be…" I shuddered, unsure of what I'd seen.A crack snapped me out of the vision. I spun, crouching instinctively, my hand reaching for a weapon I didn't have. Shadows moved among the trees, swift and silent. Not animals. Men. Six figures emerged, cloaked in black capes that blended with the night. Their faces were hidden under hoods, but the glint of daggers in their hands was unmistakable. Mercenaries."What have we here?" said a gravelly voice, thick with disdain. The man at the front pulled back his hood, revealing a face scarred as if by claws. His sickly yellow eyes studied me like prey. Around his neck hung an obsidian locket, and his fingers caressed it as if it were a sacred relic."No words?" The man, who I assumed was the leader, stepped forward. "I'm Dren, of the Ashen Crows. And you, little one, are a problem. No one survives alone in this forest unless they're more than they seem.""What do you want?" I said, my voice steadier than I expected. There was no room for fear. Fear was for those without a plan.Dren laughed, a dry sound like snapping branches. "Nobody kills a Fire Kingdom emissary," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "The Éther is a plague, little one. A stain that corrupts the pure. But you… you carry it in your blood, don't you? Tell me, heretic, what does it feel like to be the world's ruin?"My heart skipped, but I kept my face impassive. How did he know? There was no time to think. One of the mercenaries, a lanky man with a scar on his cheek, lunged at me, his dagger gleaming. Instinctively, the Éther awoke. The world slowed, but my vision blurred, a deafening hum ringing in my head. I stepped aside, and the dagger sliced the air where I'd been. I fell to my knees, a scream trapped in my throat. Blood dripped from my nose, and the black line on my arm spread, pulsing like an infection. For a moment, I forgot my name… Arion? Kael?"Enough!" Dren roared, raising a hand. The mercenary stopped, growling. "This isn't just any child. Take him. Alive."I fought, but they were too many. They bound my hands with ropes that smelled of dried blood and dragged me through the forest to a camp hidden in a ravine. A fire crackled in the center, illuminating a dozen figures: weathered men and women, some barely teenagers, all with the look of those who'd seen too much death. And among them, a girl. She couldn't have been older than ten, with jaggedly cut black hair and eyes that cut sharper than any dagger. She looked at me, and for a moment, I felt she could see right through me."What's this?" she said, approaching. Her voice was sharp, laced with mockery. "Looks like a lost pup, but smells like trouble.""Nyra," Dren said without looking at her. "Deal with him. If he's useless, toss him in the river."Nyra studied me, her hands toying with a small knife. "Speak, pup. Name?""Arion," I said, keeping my voice neutral. I wouldn't give her more. Not yet.She smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Arion, huh? Well, you're nobody here until you prove otherwise. And if you're a heretic, like Dren says…" Her knife grazed my throat, barely touching. "I'll cut you myself."Training with the Ashen Crows was brutal. They taught me to move silently, wield a dagger, read the terrain like a map. But I wasn't a child learning for the first time. Every move reminded me of my past life, the battlefields, the sleepless nights planning ambushes. What they saw as talent, I knew was experience.Nyra was the only one who intrigued me. She was fast, lethal, and her eyes never left me. During one training session, she cornered me in a clearing, her dagger pressed to my chest. "You're strange," she said, her breath warm against my face. "No one your age fights like that. What are you hiding, Arion?""Nothing you'd care about," I replied, pushing her dagger aside with a move I'd practiced a thousand times in another life. She frowned but didn't press further. Not then.That night, Dren summoned me to his tent. The air smelled of iron and leather. "We have a mission," he said, his scar glinting in the firelight. "An enemy camp. An elemental artifact. You're coming.""Why me?" I asked, though I already knew. He was testing me."Because I see the Éther in your eyes, little one," he said, leaning toward me, his locket gleaming in the light. "That power will devour you, like it does everyone. Join me, and I'll teach you to control it. Defy me, and I'll rip out your heart before the Éther does."The enemy camp was a viper's nest. Water Kingdom soldiers, armed with enchanted spears glowing with blue runes. Nyra and I infiltrated, moving like shadows. The artifact, a sphere pulsing with watery light, sat in the center, guarded by a mage who made the ground tremble with each step. Everything went according to plan until an alarm sounded. We'd been spotted."Run!" Nyra hissed, unleashing a gust of wind that knocked down two guards. But the mage was faster. A wave of water engulfed us, and my lungs burned as I sank. Nyra was trapped, her body bound by ropes of water. Panic, something I'd sworn never to feel again, gripped my chest."Use me," the Umbral whispered, its voice like a knife in my mind. "Save her, and you'll be stronger."I didn't want to. I knew the cost. But Nyra was dying, and I couldn't let her go. Not again. Not like I'd lost so many before. I closed my eyes and let the Éther flow. The world fractured, the water froze, but my body screamed in agony. Blood burst from my eyes, staining my vision red. A purple explosion tore through the camp, and the mage dissolved into ashes. Nyra gasped, freed, but I collapsed, my arm covered in black lines that pulsed like living veins. For a moment, I saw Lirien instead of Nyra, her charred face begging me to run. Was it real? The Umbral laughed, and my mind sank into a vision: an obsidian throne, now dripping with blood like wax, runes throbbing like living eyes. Among the corpses, Nyra lay, her face pale, her eyes empty, her broken knife at her side. A voice whispered: "She is the price, Echo. Choose, or I will.""What… are you?" Nyra whispered, her face pale.I didn't answer. I couldn't. I staggered to my feet and ran into the darkness, the artifact forgotten. As I ran, a purple flash lit the horizon, as if the Éther had left a mark in the sky. I knew someone would see it. Someone would come for me. In the distance, Nyra followed, her knife glinting under the moon.