Present – The Clearing (continued)
Rowan didn't move. He could feel it—the moment of imbalance. The tipping point, like a tightrope swaying in wind. One word. One breath too loud. One wrong twitch could decide everything.
The Strifelion stopped.
Its towering, prismatic form stood just out of reach, one paw raised mid-step, suspended as though the air itself held it. It lowered its head, glassy mane rippling in slow motion, and looked directly into Lyle's eyes.
Not at him.
Into him.
The growl in Lyle's throat caught. His body shuddered—violently. Static burst from his back in a jagged, electric corona, but it wasn't wild anymore. It pulsed in sync with his heartbeat.
Jacob's voice entered the soul-link—not just to the beast, but echoing across the thin thread of connection that now barely tethered Lyle's fractured soul.
But then Genevo arrived—
flanked by Geneva, eyes sharp and glinting with purpose.
They didn't hesitate.
The moment they saw Lyle kneeling, vulnerable and flickering between control and collapse, they struck.
This was the moment they'd been waiting for.
Not to help him.
Not to save him.
But to end him.
"Now," Genevo snapped, already loosing a blast of flame toward Lyle. "We can't let them fix him. That's not what this trial is for."
Their movements were too fast, too coordinated. They'd planned this.
They didn't want redemption.
They wanted a reason—a clean excuse to kill the cursed boy and leave this twisted forest trial behind.
"No more risks," Geneva said coldly. "No more delays."
Around them, the forest answered.
The trees rustled violently, and from the shadows came corrupted creatures—twisted forest beasts with fungal rot blooming along their hides and tendrils of curse-light threading through their eyes.
"They've already touched him," Genevo growled. "The forest's creatures—they've marked him. They're using him."
With that signal, the others closed in. Adventurers who had been unsure before now surged forward, emboldened by the attack.
Lyle barely had time to rise.
Static flared. His arms crackled. But the curse was still unstable—not yet his to command.
And that's when Jacob saw everything.
Through the glowing eyes of the Strifelion, he watched Lyle's shape surrounded, targeted, hunted.
Jacob spun around and shouted, voice low and urgent across the link:
"Rowan—get on. Now."
Rowan didn't question it. He vaulted onto the soul doll's back, gripping tight as Jacob directed the beast with fierce intent.
Then the Strifelion charged.
Behind the chaos, Aria, Ramsey, Markus and Finn broke through the trees—faces drawn tight with panic and fury.
Aria screamed, "Lyle—move!"
The Strifelion didn't stop.
It cut straight through the crowd, Jacob guiding its every step like a lightning bolt made flesh. Its glassy claws tore through corrupted creatures and deflected incoming spells, barreling toward the center of the chaos—toward Lyle.
Genevo's eyes widened just as the soul beast leapt.
Too late.
Jacob's voice echoed like a shockwave:
"We're not letting you take him."
Genevo and Geneva charged into the clearing without warning.
Genevo's hand ignited, forming a blazing longblade carved from raw will and vengeance. Beside him, Geneva summoned something even larger—a colossal sword wreathed in living flame, its edges pulsing like a heart about to burst.
From the forest, a mechanical voice echoed through the tension:
Warning: Human bloodline detected. Engagement not recommended.
"Human bloodline: Fire Keeper."
"Human bloodline: Forge of the Ancestors."
Jacob's breath caught in his chest. He recognized the danger instantly.
These weren't attacks—they were executions in motion.
"Rowan, now!" Jacob barked through the link.
The Strifelion's leg extended like a flash of glass and lightning. Jacob grabbed both Rowan and Lyle, hauling them up as the beast took flight with a guttural, crystalline roar.
Down below, Aria, Ramsey, Markus, and Finn were already scrambling to their feet, coughing and dazed—but alive.
The Strifelion dove toward them.
Jacob reached down, yelling, "Grab on!"
One by one, they jumped—Aria clinging to Lyle's arm, Markus grabbing Ramsey's collar, Finn landing last with a grunt as the soul beast's powerful limbs kicked off the ground.
They were airborne.
But Genevo wasn't done.
With calm fury, he conjured a bow forged entirely of fire. In a single motion, he pulled a glowing arrow to the string and aimed skyward.
"You can't outrun judgment," he muttered—and loosed the shot.
The arrow screamed through the sky like a falling star.
The world blurred around them as the Strifelion soared, the wind howling in their ears, wings of spectral light beating against gravity's pull. But even above the treeline, even cutting through clouds of ash and rising steam, Jacob felt the arrow before he saw it.
The sky cracked.
The fire-forged arrow wasn't chasing—it was hunting. It curved unnaturally, tethered to Genevo's will like a predator locked onto a scent, tracking their movement through the air with terrifying precision.
"Hang on!" Jacob roared, funneling more of his will into the Strifelion. The beast twisted midair, its wings flaring as it spun, trying to throw the arrow off course.
But the flame didn't falter.
Its light bent, then surged forward—aiming not for Jacob, but for Lyle.
"NO!" Aria shouted, shielding her brother with her body as best she could.
The blast sent them tumbling through the air, the Strifelion thrown off balance. Jacob fought for control, heart hammering as he pulled them into a spiraling descent.
Below, the forest roared. The corrupted creatures shrieked. And Genevo was already drawing another arrow, his face calm, righteous.
"Next one goes through," he said coldly.
But Geneva hesitated now, her fiery greatsword wavering.
She watched the struggling group in the sky, something flickering behind her eyes.
Down below, the forest pulsed again—no longer with hostility, but with a strange, heavy stillness. Like something ancient had been disturbed… and was watching.
Jacob pulled them into a hard landing, the Strifelion crashing through vines and roots before skidding to a halt. Everyone hit the ground hard but intact.
Lyle was loose again—and teetering on the edge of another rampage.
His breath caught—erratic, shallow—as arcs of lightning coiled tighter around his arms. The curse hadn't vanished. It had only pulled back, lurking in silence, watching. Waiting.
Now it stirred again—fully awake.
And this time, there was no soul-link from Jacob to anchor him. No tether of sanity. No voice to call him back.