Kael furrowed his brow, arms folded as he squatted behind the thick underbrush with Saria crouched close beside him. His sharp eyes studied Tilly, who now stood rigid and upright, both hands clutching the glowing scroll like it was some kind of holy relic.
Kael exhaled quietly, almost scoffing.
> "He dragged them this deep into the woods… to read?" he muttered under his breath.
The scroll shimmered faintly in the torchlight, its rune-inscribed edges flaring with a strange bluish hue, like the surface of water struck by lightning. But Kael, hardened by his doctrine of disbelief, remained unimpressed.
He had read about magic—pages upon pages in old farmer's almanacs, dusty tomes from traveling peddlers, and even one or two stolen texts from the town hall archives. But seeing it? Real magic? No. Not once.
> "Until I see it, it's just stories," Kael had always said.
That mantra had kept him grounded—kept him sane, even—after a childhood of nightmares and vague, broken memories.
He had no idea what Tilly was doing now. To him, it still looked like some ridiculous village play performed with dramatic flair and poor props. But Saria beside him was growing increasingly tense.
She leaned in and whispered, "Kael… what is he doing? That scroll… it looks—wrong."
Kael shrugged stiffly. "No idea. Probably just trying to scare them into thinking he's got magic."
But even as he said it, he noticed the change in the air.
The first gust came as a whisper—just a stirring of leaves, a nudge on the cheek like a curious breath. Then came another. Stronger.
Kael lifted his head slightly. The trees groaned above, branches rustling with growing violence. Loose twigs snapped and danced along the ground. Dry leaves were suddenly airborne, spiraling like insects caught in an invisible whirlpool.
Saria reached out, grabbing Kael's arm. "That's… not normal."
Kael didn't answer.
His gaze sharpened, instinct tightening his muscles.
The air around them had shifted. The temperature dropped—not cold, not chill, but something else. Something deeper. A pressure that settled in the chest and made the heart beat heavier.
The torch flames ahead flickered wildly, threatened by the surge of wind. The teenage boy reading from the parchment stuttered, nearly dropping it as the runes on the scroll flared.
And Kael—finally, deeply—felt it.
A pulse. Not just through the forest. Through him.
He staggered slightly. His breath hitched.
> "No… no, that's not just wind."
This was something… familiar. Not in thought, but in blood. In his bones. As if the wind had once spoken to him, long ago, when he was too small to understand, and now it had returned, demanding to be recognized.
A distant roar—not loud, not clear, but something ancient—rumbled like a whisper beneath the earth.
Kael's eyes widened.
> "Saria," he muttered, "stay close. Don't move."
"Kael, what's happening—?"
"I don't know."
But the part of him he buried—the part that remembered blood, fire, and the death of a queen—did know.
Something had just awakened. And it wasn't finished.
---
For the first time in years, Kael felt it—fear. Not the shallow fright of a child at night, nor the passing shiver from a bad dream. No—this was primal. Something ancient. As though the air itself had remembered him and was now dragging him into something far older than any of them understood.
The wind was no longer just strong—it was violent, alive. It lashed at the trees, pulling at branches like invisible claws. The whole forest swayed like it was breathing—groaning, creaking, writhing in protest.
Kael's eyes, wide and unblinking, stayed fixed on the glowing scroll that hovered just inches above Tilly's outstretched hands. The scroll itself pulsed with a deep, golden-white brilliance, runes spinning in circles around it like orbiting planets.
Tilly stood rooted, his cocky mask now cracked with disbelief. His lips moved but no sound came. Maybe he was praying. Maybe cursing. Maybe both.
Then the scroll launched itself into the air—shooting ten, maybe fifteen feet away before bursting into a blinding sphere of light.
The explosion was not soundless—but it wasn't a boom either. It was more like a pulse, a deep bass that hit the soul before it hit the ears. The force of it knocked the teenagers backward like scattered leaves.
Saria screamed—raw, terrified—as she instinctively grabbed Kael and buried her face into his chest. Her arms clutched him like a lifeline, trembling against him.
Kael didn't even flinch.
He felt none of the impact that had sent others flying. The wind howled in his ears, but it was as if the storm had passed around him, leaving him untouched.
He stood in the eye of something vast. Something that had recognized him.
His heart thudded—not with fear now, but with resonance. A quiet voice—unfamiliar and ancient—whispered in the back of his mind. It wasn't in words. It wasn't even a voice. Just a presence. Watching. Waiting.
Kael's fists clenched unconsciously.
> "Why… does this feel like it knows me?"
He could hear the panicked groans of the teenagers struggling to get up, Tilly coughing violently as he rolled onto his side. The air was thick now—charged like the moments before a lightning strike.
Above them, the space where the scroll had detonated shimmered. The wind stilled for just a breath. Then...
A dark rift began to tear into the air—just a crack, like someone had ripped through the fabric of the sky.
A soundless hum filled the clearing.
Kael narrowed his eyes. Saria whimpered into his shirt. And in his chest, something old stirred.
---
Kael's breath caught in his throat.
The air had turned ice-cold, dry and brittle like shattered glass. In the clearing where the scroll had detonated, the very shadows themselves twisted unnaturally toward the forming entity. It wasn't just feeding on light—it was devouring it, stripping warmth and color from the world like a starving void.
Kael's eyes locked onto it, unblinking. The silhouette had now taken the vague shape of something quadrupedal—beastly, serpentine, with tendrils that slithered like vapor from its sides. Its core pulsed like a heart—but the light it gave off was wrong: not white or gold, but a sickly violet, flickering as if caged rage boiled within.
And then—a growl. Deep. Ancient. Like something that didn't belong in this world. It didn't echo through the trees; it vibrated inside the bones.
Kael flinched. Every nerve in his body lit up like fire.
> "We need to move. Now!" he snapped, turning toward Saria.
She was crouched on the forest floor, eyes wide with horror, hands gripping her cloak so tightly her knuckles had turned pale. She didn't speak—only nodded furiously when Kael grabbed her arm and hauled her up.
"Kael—what is that? What is that thing?" she whimpered, barely able to keep her footing.
Kael didn't answer. He didn't know.
But his body knew. Every instinct, every suppressed memory, every whisper of warning left behind from whatever ancient trauma his blood carried—it all screamed the same word.
Run.
Behind them, the twisted beast gave a howl—no, a roar—that sent birds fleeing in frenzied flocks from the treetops. Leaves fell like rain. The very ground seemed to vibrate beneath the force.
Tilly gasped as he pushed himself halfway upright. His vision spun, and blood trickled from his nose. His limbs felt like clay. He looked up—and locked eyes with the thing.
It stared straight at him.
Not with eyes—but with awareness. Recognition.
> "No—no, I didn't mean—!"
But his voice was drowned out by the sound of his friends screaming. They were scrambling to their feet, throwing aside torches, bags, anything to make them lighter as they fled in every direction.
Some ran toward the forest edge.
Some didn't even look where they ran.
One tripped over a root and was nearly trampled by the others.
Kael, still dragging Saria, didn't head in a straight line. He cut sideways into a dense thicket, where the trees were tight and the brush was thick enough to offer some cover.
But he could feel the creature behind them. Its presence was like a second gravity, pulling at him with invisible hands. Its breath—if that's what it was—smelled of ash and old blood.
> "This wasn't magic," Kael muttered under his breath, heart pounding. "This was a summoning..."
And whoever—or whatever—answered the call… didn't come in peace.