"Couldn't you at least let us eat first?" Bram yawned, half an apple in hand as he trudged beside Kael. "I swear I smelled honey bread back there."
Kael didn't slow. "You complain more than an old grandma."
"Grandma?" Bram huffed. "I look way better than you, man."
Kael's smirk was faint, crooked. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
"Hey, I'm serious! The princess's cooks—" he waved his apple dramatically, "—their stuff's legendary. You ever had sweetbread from a royal oven? You'd sell your boots for one."
"I'd rather keep my boots," Kael said.
"Because you don't have taste," Bram muttered. He took another bite, then glanced around. "Birds are loud today. Kinda peaceful."
Kael's eyes lifted briefly. "Yeah. Almost too peaceful."
"You're so dramatic," Bram teased. "What's next, you'll tell me the wind feels 'off'?"
Kael didn't answer this time. His silence was soft at first. Then it stretched.
The sound of their boots against cold stone filled the gap.
"Kael?" Bram slowed. "What is it?"
---
The path narrowed beneath trees veined with morning light. The air changed—thin, cold, waiting.
Kael's tone dropped, sharp and deliberate.
"Come out."
Bram blinked. "Come out?" He looked around. "You seeing something I'm not?"
Kael's gaze didn't shift. His hand hovered near his sword.
Bram froze. That look. That stillness. He'd seen it before—the look he always had before he cut something's head off.
He drew his blade slowly. "All right, all right. Whoever's creeping around, better show yourself before—"
A branch snapped. Bram's words died.
---
Figures stepped from the underbrush, shadows forming into men—mercenaries. Their blades caught slivers of dawnlight.
"Well, well," a voice drawled. "Didn't think I'd catch the celebrated beast slayers out this early."
Kael didn't move.
The speaker stepped forward—grinning, confident. "You've been hogging all the jobs, Kael. And you don't even belong to any guild. Don't you think it's time to share?"
Bram raised an eyebrow. "Share? You mean steal."
The leader gestured toward Kael's pouch. "Let's say… half for everyone's happiness."
Bram scoffed. "No way! That's our pay. We earned it!"
Kael's voice stayed low, calm. "Fine."
Bram turned to him, stunned. "Fine? What—"
Kael reached into Bram's belt and took the pouch.
"Kael—what are you doing?"
"Sharing," Kael said simply.
---
He tossed the pouch.
It hit the ground, bursting open. Coins spilled, bouncing, ringing against the stone road like laughter.
Several of the mercenaries lunged, grabbing at the gold, muttering curses and laughs.
"Idiots," Bram hissed under his breath.
But the leader didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on Kael.
The grin faded into something colder. "You think that's funny, boy?"
Kael's fingers twitched near his hilt. "Not really."
"Good," the man sneered. "Because I don't like jokes."
---
He stepped closer, swords scraping free. "Little boy… no respect. Looks like your mother didn't give you any home training."
Bram's breath caught. "Oh no."
Kael didn't move. For a heartbeat.
Then the surrounding air shifted—color twisting faintly, heat bleeding into the cool dawn. Red and green light shimmered under his skin.
"Kael," Bram said carefully. "Don't. You said you had it under control."
Kael's eyes lifted, now faintly glowing. His voice was a growl beneath breath.
"I did. Until now."
---
The next moment tore the world open.
Kael moved—and the forest shuddered.
Fire slashed across the ground, drawing burning lines through dirt. Roots tore free from the earth, vines whipping out, coiling around legs and throats. The air grew heavy, humming with color.
Screams split the morning.
"That aura—no ordinary mercenary carries that kind of magic!" one of them shouted.
"Get back! Get—"
A vine yanked him off his feet.
"Kael!" Bram barked, stepping forward through the heat. "Enough!"
Kael ignored him, walking through the chaos. The rival leader stumbled backward, blade trembling in his grip.
Kael's sword pressed to his throat, a whisper from cutting.
"Mind saying that again?" His tone was almost calm—but the madness in his eyes said otherwise.
"Kael—" Bram's voice was low, measured. He touched Kael's shoulder. "Let him go."
Kael chuckled once, softly. "Run."
The word carried weight, power. The vines loosened.
They ran—limping, bleeding, tripping over roots and coins.
"He's one of them!" someone shouted. "One of the Blighted!"
Another called back, "You can't hide forever, Kael! The Ravenous Guild will find you!"
Kael lifted a hand, conjuring a line of flame. A fire arrow burst past the speaker's ear, slamming into a tree.
"Just run, before I change my mind," Kael said darkly.
They didn't look back.
---
The forest went still again.
Only the crackle of fading fire broke the silence.
Bram exhaled slowly, scanning what was left: the ground torn open, blackened bits of stones smoking, the road split like something alive had clawed through it.
Bram's thoughts came like whispers.
"Every time he loses it… the air dies."
The world itself trembles."
He glanced at Kael, standing amid the wreckage, blade still in hand, a faint aura flickering like dying light.
"Look at him. It's like the sun itself lent him its glow."
Kael's eyes were still too bright, still distant. There was no victory in them—only silence.
---
Bram crouched, collecting scattered coins into the pouch. "I think we should move before those guild dogs show up with more lackeys."
Kael didn't answer until his sword was fully sheathed. Then, almost too casually:
"A face-off would've been fun though, don't you think, Grandma?"
Bram glared. "Fun? You literally tore up the whole road! Look at the wreckage! You said you'd never use that thing again!"
Kael smirked faintly. "Guess I broke my word."
"Guess you're an idiot," Bram shot back. He sighed, rubbing his face, shoulders dropping hopelessly.
"You've changed so much, from that scared little boy escaping Pyrrathis to…" He gestured vaguely to the scorched ground. "This, something even gods would fear!"
"Something even I don't recognize," Bram said almost reverently under his breath.
Kael looked ahead, toward the rising sun bleeding through the trees. "Good"
"Good?" Bram echoed. "That's your takeaway?"
Kael turned, smile softening just slightly. "I am growing up, Grandma."
Bram groaned. "Don't push it."
Kael chuckled under his breath, and for a moment the air lightened—just barely.
But as Bram tied the pouch to his belt he caught the faraway look in Kael's eyes—something dark, something unspoken. The faint shimmer of his aura still lingered, flickering at the edge of dawn.
As they walked on, the wind shifted—the faint scent of ash following them down the road.
Kael muttering repeatedly "The Blighted?"
---