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Chapter 17-II – The Horn's Aftermath
The forest did not return to silence after the horn's cry. Instead, it pulsed with a new rhythm, as though the trees themselves were holding their breath. Every crackle of leaves, every distant caw of a bird, sounded magnified—as if the world had leaned closer to listen.
Kaelen still felt the vibration inside his chest, long after the last echo had faded. He pressed a hand over his heart, uncertain whether it was racing from fear or from something else—something older, something vast.
Lysera watched him carefully. Her hand hovered over the hilt of her dagger, not in threat, but in readiness. "That sound," she whispered, her eyes scanning the canopy, "it was not of this realm. I've traveled far, Kaelen. I've heard war horns, temple horns, even the wailing pipes of the southern tribes. But that—" she shook her head, voice tightening, "—that was a summons."
"A summons?" His voice cracked as he repeated it. The word felt alien on his tongue, yet familiar in the way a dream lingers after waking.
Lysera stepped closer. Her silver hair caught the muted light of the moon, her face half-shadowed, half-strained. "It called to you. Not to me, not to the birds in the trees, not even to the stars. To you, Kaelen."
He wanted to deny it, to laugh it off as nerves, but the truth pressed heavy against him. The sound had not simply been heard—it had resonated, as though the horn had found a chamber deep inside his bones and claimed it.
"I don't want this," he muttered. The confession was raw, unshaped. "Whatever it is—this… this calling. I never asked for it."
"No one ever does." Lysera's tone was softer now, almost pitying. She placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. "But destiny is rarely polite enough to ask."
A breeze swept through, carrying with it a strange chorus of whispers. At first Kaelen thought it was the wind catching hollow trunks, but then he realized the voices were too sharp, too deliberate. Fragments of words slid between the trees—language he did not know, yet understood in some primal way. He shivered.
Lysera stiffened beside him. Her eyes darted into the shadows. "We're being watched."
Kaelen's hand went instinctively to the small blade at his belt, though the weapon felt pitiful against the unseen. "By who?"
She didn't answer. Her gaze was fixed on the treeline where the shadows pooled thicker than they should have. For a heartbeat, Kaelen swore he saw movement—a tall figure standing impossibly still, its form blurred by darkness.
He blinked, and it was gone.
The silence that followed was worse than the horn. It pressed on his ears, heavy and suffocating. Even the forest creatures had gone mute, as if they too waited for something to step forward.
Lysera took a slow breath. "Kaelen, you need to understand. This horn is not some forgotten relic. It is older than kingdoms, older than the Watchers themselves. It was forged to pierce the Veil between realms. If it has sounded, then…"
Her words faltered, her lips tightening as though speaking the truth aloud might give it power.
"Then what?" Kaelen demanded, frustration seeping into his voice.
"Then the Seal is weaker than we thought. And that means things long buried will stir again." She pulled her hand away from his arm and took a step back, her expression unreadable now. "Staying with you may already be dangerous. For both of us."
The words struck deeper than he expected. For a moment he thought she might leave him there, alone beneath the looming trees. But instead, she turned toward the path ahead, her dagger gleaming faintly.
"Dangerous or not," she said at last, "we keep moving. If something watched us tonight, it will follow."
Kaelen glanced one last time at the treeline. Though his eyes saw nothing, his skin crawled with the certainty that the shadow still lingered, patient, waiting.
And somewhere beyond the forest, in a realm he could not yet imagine, the echo of the horn rolled on, awakening things that should have remained asleep.
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