Zee’s wide eyes locked onto me, his disbelief plain as he stammered out, “Y-yes, I can hear you, Grunt.”

‘My name’s not Grunt,’ I said firmly, the telepathic link tingling faintly in my mind.

He tilted his head, his brows furrowing in skepticism. “Then what is it?”

I hesitated. The name clung to my mind like a distant echo, yet the weight of its significance pressed heavily on me. ‘It’s… Marcelo,’ I finally answered, the name reverberating through the connection.

Zee’s sharp eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me as if trying to discern the truth from my equine form. “You know names are supposed to be given to you, right? You’re not supposed to just… come up with one yourself.”

I stomped forward, the ground trembling faintly under my hoof. Zee stumbled back, startled. “Okay, okay! Marcelo, sure. Sounds regal enough for a talking horse.”

Before I could retort, Asher’s voice cut through the tension. “There seems to be someone skilled among the elves.”

The ancient tree spirit’s gaze turned toward the forest’s edge, his bark-like features drawn into a grim expression. “They will find this place soon. Tsk. It seems my prime is long behind me for such a youngster to bypass my spell.”

He turned his glowing green eyes toward us, their depthless light carrying the weight of centuries. “You must flee. Go to Veridara’s free city. There, you’ll be safe from the elves’ pursuit. They tend to be a stubborn bunch.”

‘Wait,’ I interrupted, my voice firm in the shared mental space. ‘What about my answer? You promised me a path.’

Asher’s mossy brows furrowed, his gaze distant as though weighing his words. “You’ve already found part of it. Another piece lies within the city. There you’ll find a kindred spirit” His tone grew quieter, almost wistful. “The path is not a single road, Marcelo. It is a mosaic of choices and discoveries.”

I snorted in frustration, doubting the old spirit’s cryptic guidance. Yet, I knew we had little time to argue.

Nearby, Zee muttered to himself, his voice tinged with wonder. “So a horse can sound… so manly?”

‘Do you know the way to the free city?’ I asked, pulling Zee from his reverie.

He blinked, his thoughts snapping back to the moment. “Yes, but it’ll take more than a couple of days to get there. And with elves on our tail…” His voice trailed off, unease creeping into his tone.

“I’ll hold them off as long as I can,” Asher said, “It’s the least I can do for your constant listening to my old tales, Zee.”

I met the spirit’s gaze, the bark of his face creasing with a knowing smile. For all his riddles, there was sincerity in his words.

“Don’t worry too much, Marcelo,” he said softly. “The mind is a fallible thing.” He turned his attention back to the forest, the glow of his runes dimming slightly. “They are nearing. You two must leave now.”

I moved quickly toward Zee, lowering myself slightly. ‘Get on, Zee. Just tell me where to go.’

Without hesitation, Zee scrambled onto my back, clutching tightly to my mane. “To the south. That’s where the Free City lies.”

‘And which way is south?’ I asked dryly.

“To your right, dammit!” Zee snapped, his urgency spilling into his words.

I swerved sharply, the dense forest closing around us as we plunged into the undergrowth. Asher’s voice echoed faintly behind us, carrying a quiet farewell. “Go, and may your path lead you to clarity.”

Zee turned back, his voice cracking as he called, “We’ll meet again, old man! Don’t you go dying on me!”

The spirit’s presence faded into the distance, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the pounding of my hooves. Shadows danced around us, and the forest seemed alive with whispers of unseen watchers.

“Faster, Marcelo!” Zee urged, his voice trembling with both fear and determination.

I pressed on, the path ahead uncertain yet unavoidable.

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The forest fell silent as Marcelo and Zee vanished into the undergrowth, the sound of their retreat fading into the distance. Asher stood motionless beneath the gnarled branches of his tree, his bark-like features drawn into a mask of calm. But his glowing eyes betrayed his vigilance.

“I know you’re there,” he called out, his voice deep and resonant, carrying an ancient weight. “Why not come out already?”

Shadows shifted among the trees, their movements graceful and deliberate. One by one, the elves emerged from the foliage, their pale forms glinting faintly in the dim light. They moved with an otherworldly elegance, their expressions cold and unreadable.

At their forefront stood a young man with curved horns protruding from his head, their gleaming edges resembling polished ivory. His sharp features and piercing eyes carried an unsettling mix of youth and malice. As he stepped forward, a faint smirk played on his lips.

“A chained spirit?” the leader said in the lilting tongue of the elves, his voice dripping with mockery. “What do we have here?”

His gaze raked over Asher with an almost predatory hunger. The grin on his face widened as he closed the distance between them, his movements deliberate, like a cat toying with its prey.

“You would be quite the nutrition for the madam,” he said, his voice thick with anticipation. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his gaze gleaming with unspoken intentions.

Asher chuckled, the sound low and rumbling like distant thunder. “You fools are far too young and naive to offer me up to your little madam.”

“Foolish Spirit!” one of the elves hissed, his voice sharp and venomous. He stepped forward, but the leader raised a hand, silencing him with a single motion.

The leader’s smirk faltered, irritation flickering across his face. His eyes narrowed as he studied the ancient spirit. Slowly, he reached for the twin daggers at his waist, their curved blades catching the faint light. He stepped forward with deliberate menace, each stride radiating controlled violence.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Then he froze.

The movement was so abrupt it seemed almost unnatural. His body remained locked in mid-stride, his daggers poised but unmoving. Behind him, the other elves were similarly paralyzed, their expressions blank as though they had been snared in a trance.

The forest, once tense with the anticipation of violence, grew eerily still.

Asher chuckled again, his tone rich with amusement. “Youngins always rush ahead without fear,” he said, shaking his head. His glowing eyes glimmered faintly as he surveyed the frozen elves. “But you’ve much to learn about the dangers of this forest.”

The air around him seemed to hum with latent power, the quiet energy of the forest responding to his presence. Leaves rustled softly, and the branches above swayed as if bowing to the spirit’s will.

He watched the elves for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. The leader’s eyes flickered briefly, a spark of awareness breaking through the stillness, but Asher only smiled.

“You’ll remember this lesson, I think,” he said softly. “If you survive.”

The hum of energy faded as the spirit’s presence receded into stillness. The forest around him regained its calm, but the weight of his power lingered, a silent reminder of the ancient force that resided there.

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The forest stretched endlessly before us, its towering trees casting long shadows that danced in the faint light. My hooves pounded against the earth, the rhythmic thud reverberating through the dense silence as I channeled mana into my body, pushing myself forward.

Zee perched on my back, his small hands gripping my mane tightly. Occasionally, he would bark out directions—“Left!” or “Straight ahead!”—but as the hours stretched on, even his voice faded into quiet. Soon, we simply moved forward, the weight of the silence pressing between us.

The only sound was the rustling of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig beneath my hooves. The forest seemed alive, its shadows shifting in the corner of my vision, but neither of us spoke. Zee busied himself with fidgeting, idly twisting strands of my mane between his fingers.

I felt the need to break the quiet, the stillness too heavy to bear. ‘Hey, Zee,’ I called through our telepathic connection.

“...Yeah?” His voice was hesitant, distracted.

‘You can communicate with me telepathically, you know. No need to speak out loud.’

“Hmm.” He pondered for a moment, his grip on my mane loosening slightly. “And how do I do that?”

I hesitated, searching for a way to explain it. ‘Well… you just have to feel for the telepathic string and pluck at it.’

Zee tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. Then he began making odd noises, his mouth twisting as he grunted and hummed.

I slowed my pace, glancing back in concern. ‘Zee, are you—?’

“Bwahhh!” Zee interrupted with a burst of laughter. “What nonsensical string are you even talking about?”

‘It’s a metaphysical—’

“Meta-what now?” he cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “All I hear is your obnoxious voice. Honestly, I miss when you were the silent type.”

I bit back a retort, focusing on the practicality of telepathic communication rather than his barbs. ‘Can’t you feel an odd sensation when I speak to you this way? Like a pull of sorts?’

“Nope,” he replied bluntly, shaking his head. “I just hear you yammering on. Maybe the problem’s on your end.”

I ignored the jab, though a faint irritation simmered in the back of my mind. Communicating this way was important—if we could perfect it, it would make coordinating our escape and survival much easier. Besides, I had come to appreciate being heard, even if Zee’s responses were far from encouraging.

Gathering my focus, I channeled a surge of mental energy. ‘HOW ABOUT NOW?’ I projected, the force of my voice reverberating through the connection.

Zee yelped, nearly slipping off my back. His hands scrambled for purchase, yanking painfully at my mane as he righted himself. “Oh, you bastard! You—darned—”

‘Pathetic excuse of a horse,’ Zee’s thoughts seeped through the telepathic connection.

I reared slightly, shaking him loose. Zee tumbled to the ground with an undignified grunt, landing in a heap of limbs and indignation.

“Aghhh!” he groaned, clutching his side. “You crazy horse! What was that for?”

‘This damned crazy horse can still hear you,’ I replied pointedly, stomping a hoof near him for emphasis.

Zee’s eyes widened, his expression twisting into a mix of horror and realization. “Wait… are you in my head right now?” he asked, his voice quivering.

‘Yes, Zee. I am.’

“AAAHHHHH!” His scream was immediate and piercing, his hands clamping over his ears as if to block me out. ‘Get out! Get out! GET OUT!’

The mental onslaught of Zee’s frantic yelling struck like a hammer, my head throbbing as his voice echoed painfully through the connection. I gritted my teeth, struggling to regain control.

‘Zee, listen!’ I tried to interject, but his panicked cries only grew louder, both aloud and in my mind. The forest seemed to tremble with the intensity of his distress.

‘Zee, SHUT UP!’ I bellowed, my patience snapping. Without thinking, I nudged him sharply with my hoof, the force enough to jolt him into silence.

He lay on the ground, his small body trembling as he gasped for air. His cries subsided into quiet, ragged sobs, his hands clutching at the dirt as though seeking stability. I froze, guilt clawing at me as I realized the depth of his anguish.

Through our connection, I felt the faint echo of his emotions—grief, fear, and a crushing sense of helplessness. It wasn’t my kick that had brought him to this state; it was everything. The loss of his home, the betrayal of his people, and the uncertainty of our journey had finally overwhelmed him.

I stood over him, unsure of what to do. His muffled sobs tore at something deep within me, a reminder of my own moments of despair. I lowered my head slightly, my breath stirring the dirt near his face.

Zee’s cries eventually softened into shaky breaths, his chest rising and falling as he lay motionless. When he finally stilled, he didn’t look at me, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. Silence enveloped us once more, heavy and suffocating.

I waited, giving him the space he needed to collect himself. For now, words felt unnecessary—and perhaps even unwelcome.

“Is the melodrama over?”

The voice, calm and unhurried, came from the forest’s edge.

I turned sharply, my muscles coiling with tension as I scanned the shadows. She stepped into the firelight—a woman with pale, almost luminescent skin and striking emerald-green eyes that glimmered like polished gems. Her features were stunning, unnervingly symmetrical, but it was the horns that drew my gaze. One curled gracefully from her head, while the other had been severed, leaving only a jagged base.

She sat by an open flame as though she had always been there, her presence unnervingly natural. Over the campfire, a skewer of meat sizzled, the scent wafting through the air. She turned it absently, her movements measured and calm.

My heart raced as I realized I hadn’t noticed her before. She had been close—far too close—and yet her presence had slipped past me entirely.

“RRRAAAAAA!”

Zee’s cry tore through the tension. He sprang to his feet, his rage boiling over as he charged toward the elf, daggers drawn and glowing faintly with mana.

“Zee!” I called, my voice echoing in his mind. I lunged forward, trying to catch him, my teeth snapping at empty air. But he was already past me, consumed by his fury.

The elf didn’t flinch.

With a single, unhurried motion, she swung her arm—the same one holding the skewer of roasting meat—and struck Zee across the jaw. The impact was devastating.

Zee crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.

He hit the ground with a sickening thud, folding as though every bone in his body had vanished. For a moment, he didn’t move, his small frame splayed out in the dirt.

I took an instinctive step forward, my body vibrating with the urge to protect him, but the elf’s gaze stopped me cold.

Her emerald eyes locked onto mine, piercing and unyielding. She rose with deliberate grace, her movements fluid yet purposeful. Leaving the meat skewer behind, her hand drifted to the blade at her hip. As she drew it, the weapon caught the firelight, its edge gleaming with a menacing sharpness that promised precision.

She began walking toward me, her expression unreadable, the firelight flickering across her pale features.

I lowered my head, nostrils flaring as my muscles tensed. Every fiber of my being screamed to act, but her calm, measured approach left me frozen.

The shadows seemed to grow longer around her, the forest holding its breath as she closed the distance between us.