The first light of dawn seeped through the cracks in my shutters.
Slivers of gold cut across my worn bedroll.
Outside, the city murmured awake—merchants dragging carts into place, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, faint chatter over bread and broth.
But beneath it all… there was something else.
A weight.
A tension that pressed against my ribs, as if the air itself had learned to stalk.
The enemies I'd escaped were still out there—hidden in plain sight, moving between shadows.
I'd been hunted before. Chased to the brink of death.
The only reason I was still breathing was the wild, volatile thing burning in my veins: my Soul Resonance.
A gift.
A curse.
A mark that painted me as prey.
I rolled my blanket. Tightened my leather armor. My hands moved like they had a thousand times before—automatic, practiced.
The cheap inn's door groaned as I stepped out.
The morning air bit cold. Fog curled low through the alleys, hiding the slick cobblestones like a shroud. Somewhere deep in the city, a bell tolled the hour.
My orders today came from Merchant Loran—a name you didn't refuse unless you enjoyed disappearing.
Investigate a band of thieves preying on caravans.
Simple on paper.
In Valenport, nothing was simple.
The market was already alive.
Spices burned in the air. Fresh bread added its warmth. Beneath it all, a faint metallic tang of magic lingered like a warning.
My eyes swept the crowd—hands too close to purses, cloaks shifting against the wind, glances that cut away too fast.
"Kael."
The voice was soft. Cautious.
I turned, hand on my sword.
An elderly woman stood at a herb stall, her gaze warm but wary.
"Careful out there," she murmured. "The city's restless these days."
I nodded. Forced a thin smile.
She meant well. But I didn't trust well.
At the city's edge, stone gave way to jagged hills and a treeline dense with shadows.
This was where caravans passed—fat with goods, slow enough to bleed.
The fog burned away under the sun, but the unease in my gut stayed.
Loran's voice returned, sharp as glass:
"You're stronger than you let on. But strength alone won't save you."
I kept moving.
It didn't take long to find them.
The thieves lounged in a clearing, careless as they cracked open stolen crates.
They laughed too loudly. Weapons tossed aside.
A perfect mistake.
I stepped forward.
"Looking for trouble?"
They froze.
One rose slowly, dagger catching the light.
"Who's asking?"
Blue fire burst around my fists.
The Soul Resonance crackled like stormlight—hungry, alive.
I struck first.
The dagger went spinning. My blow sent the man sprawling into crates.
Chaos erupted.
Arrows hissed. Swords flashed.
My energy blades carved through them, sparks and screams in their wake.
Pain burned in my arms—the Resonance biting deep—but I pushed harder.
One thief tried to flank me.
A burst of power threw him against a tree with a dull thud.
When the last body fell, silence swallowed the clearing.
I left without a word.
By nightfall, I was back inside Valenport's walls.
In a quiet courtyard, bathed in pale moonlight, I knelt and let the Resonance flare.
A shield.
A blade.
A faint light that mended wounds.
Each shape left me trembling. Breath ragged.
But stronger. Always stronger.
A shadow shifted.
Merchant Loran stepped forward, eyes sharp.
"You're strong. But strength won't save you. You need allies—and answers. Who betrayed you? Why did they want you dead?"
I met his gaze, fire in my chest.
"I'll find out. And I'll rise."
He nodded slowly.
"The deeper you dig, the darker the shadows."
From the courtyard's edge, something else watched.
Silent. Patient.
This time, I didn't run.