The tension between the two men thickened with every passing second.

With a sudden, violent motion, Bokun drew his greatsword from its sheath, the sound slicing through the night. Cold steel gleamed under the moonlight, reflecting the flickering firelight as he leveled the blade, its tip mere inches from Guhin’s chest.

“Care to repeat that, you little shit?” Bokun growled, his voice low and menacing. Fury burned in his gaze, his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt.

It was the first time Guhin saw him like this—fully armored, hair tied back with an air of authority. Unmoved, Guhin raised an eyebrow, his face a mask of stoic indifference.

“You heard me, you big idiot. Murderer, mercenary… it’s all the same,” he replied coolly, his voice laced with challenge.

Bokun’s face flushed with fury. “Idiot? Mercenary?! You don’t have a clue, do you?” he snapped. “I’m a Royal Guard from Furiël, not some hired blade. I was just doing my duty, you’re the one who made a mess of things!”

A flicker of memory surfaced for Guhin. He recalled the guard in Aryan warning him, "Be careful out there. The Royal Guards from Furiël are escorting a criminal through Valherya tonight."

But could that fragile, terrified woman truly be as dangerous as they claimed? Could she really be a criminal? The more he considered it, the less sense it made.

He held Bokun’s gaze, though doubt gnawed at him. “A Royal Guard?” He scoffed. “I thought you were just another thug who could swing a sword.”

Bokun’s voice rose, nearly a shout. “You’ve got nerve. I saved your life, and this is how you repay me? By accusing me of—”

“Of what, exactly?” Guhin interrupted sharply. “I saw a woman who needed help, and I acted. I didn’t see any Royal Guards.”

Bokun’s expression twisted. “That’s because you don’t know the full story, you stubborn bastard. That woman was a criminal—a witch. Your little stunt with Etro cost me everything!”

Guhin’s suspicions hardened as he recalled Bokun’s earlier actions: the way he’d slaughtered his own men, the way his gaze lingered on the amulet as if it were the sole reason for their encounter. Nothing about him spoke of the honor or discipline of a Royal Guard—not even one from Furiël.

“If what you say is true, then why did you butcher your own men? I’ve heard enough about you brutes to know you don’t take loyalty lightly. Besides, all you seemed interested in was gold—my gold. Just like any other thug.” His tone sharpened. “It doesn’t add up. Not for a Royal Guard. And certainly not for one who's ‘just doing his duty.’”

Bokun’s jaw clenched, resentment flickering across his features. “You Valherians… where do you get these stories? You know nothing about what it means to be a Royal Guard! We’re soldiers, guardians to the crown we serve!” He tightened his grip on the hilt, his voice laced with bitter defiance. “But you lot—” he gestured at Guhin, eyes flashing, “you see us as rabid dogs, waiting to sink our teeth into anything that crosses our path. You call us brutes and murderers without knowing a damn thing. You should be ashamed!”

With a flourish, he threw a saddlebag onto the ground. It landed with a heavy thud, spilling various artifacts onto to dirt, each more peculiar than the last. Statuettes, trinkets, and gleaming gems glistened in the firelight.

“I’m a collector, you asshole,” Bokun explained, his tone defensive. “These are my treasures. I may not have the best manners, but I assure you—” he paused, his gaze catching a glimpse of the necklace peeking from beneath Guhin’s cloak, “I was going to trade or pay for that necklace of yours.”

He bent down, picked up a gem, and held it out to him. “This one, for instance—”

Guhin cut him off, concealing the amulet under his cloak with a swift motion. “I’m not looking for a trade, you idiot,” he retorted, tone sharp.

Bokun’s hand lowered as he realized Guhin wasn’t going to budge. Reluctantly, he let out a resigned sigh. “You really are a stubborn bastard.”

Guhin’s gaze narrowed. “What about your men?”

Bokun’s expression darkened. He looked away, as if wrestling with the answer. Silence grew tense between them, the fire’s crackling the only sound. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a murmur.

“They had it coming. That woman might be a criminal, but she’s still a woman.” His gaze shifted to Guhin’s. “The things my men did to her while I slept… they’re unforgivable. They claimed the same loyalty I did. But they... broke every damn oath the moment my back was turned.”

He clenched his fists, bitterness coloring his tone in a way Guhin hadn’t heard before. “They weren’t worthy of the title of Royal Guard. Not worthy of the honor. They weren’t men; they were rats, hiding behind armor.”

Guhin scrutinized him, his suspicion simmering, but he remained silent. A part of him understood the fury behind Bokun’s actions, even if he couldn’t fully grasp the toll it had taken.

Bokun met his gaze with a flash of resentment. “Believe what you want. But just so you know—” his voice softened. “That title, ‘Royal Guard,’ it means something to me. Something those men spat on.”

Guhin’s expression remained guarded, yet he couldn’t ignore the change in Bokun’s tone—a mixture of pride and regret. For a moment, he hesitated, caught off-guard by the crack in Bokun’s bravado.

It was both a confession and a warning, revealing a side of him that was hard, uncompromising, unwilling to tolerate cruelty—even within his own ranks. His hesitation made it clear this wasn’t something he shared lightly; it was a truth offered in a bid for trust.

With a small nod, Guhin relented. “Maybe there’s more to you than I thought, but you’re still an idiot.”

Bokun managed a faint smile. “And perhaps you’re not just a piece of shit after all.”

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

The two men simply stared at each other, the tension between them simmering down to a low, uneasy truce. Then, with a deep breath, Guhin stepped back, offering a slight bow. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice quiet but clear. “For the trouble I caused you this morning.”

As Guhin began to pull up his hood, Bokun moved quickly, his greatsword flashing through the air with a speed and precision that was almost mesmerizing. In one fluid motion, he sheathed his blade, setting it down beside him within arm’s reach.

He extended a hand, blocking Guhin’s path. “Hold on,” Bokun said firmly. “You’re not walking away just yet.”

Guhin paused, hood still in hand, glancing up at him, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

“You’re going to help me find that witch,” Bokun continued. “You’ve already thrown yourself into this, so now you’re going to see it through.”

Guhin hesitated, resistance flickering across his face. “Look, I was minding my own business—”

“Until you hit my horse and rescued a wanted criminal!” Bokun interrupted sharply.

Guhin’s gaze shifted to the side, where Etro, the horse he’d struck, stood with an exaggeratedly sad expression. Its big, soulful eyes stared at Guhin with pure, almost theatrical betrayal. Its lower lip quivered, as if saying, "You hit me! ME!"

Bokun smirked at Guhin’s glance toward Etro. “You’re the real brute here. Who in their right mind hits a horse?”

Guhin’s gaze softened as he approached the animal, tension easing slightly. He reached out to scratch behind Etro’s ears, his voice low with regret. “Don’t look at me like that. I said I was sorry...”

Etro let out a soft snort, as if to say, “I suppose I’ll forgive you, but just this once.”

Guhin walked slowly to the fire, flames flickering in his eyes as he stared into them, lost in thought. The crackling embers mirrored his unrest. He struggled with the words he needed to say, words he wished he could keep buried deep within himself.

In his mind, the darkness seized upon this moment of doubt, its whispers intensifying. You can tell him. He has seen us. He has seen our beauty. Tell him why we live here, why we hide in this filth... why you're afraid.

The voice pressed against his thoughts, insidious and hungry. Guhin’s fingers twitched at his side, shadows pooling around him like oil. He clenched his fists, forcing the darkness back, his jaw set as he refocused on Bokun. “You’ve seen what I’m capable of,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, each word. “What… they’re capable of.”

Bokun’s eyes narrowed, undeterred. “So, what then?” he pressed, his voice unwavering. “You plan to stay in these mountains out of fear? Hide away from the world like a frightened child? Like a coward?”

The darkness purred, Pathetic, a taunt that burrowed deep into his bones, fueling Guhin’s frustration.

A muscle twitched in Guhin’s brow. “Coward?” The word was thick with bitterness. “Why do you think I live here?! It’s to protect everyone else!” He paused, his breath uneven. “No matter where I go… they find me. And everyone around me… will suffer because of it!”

Bokun’s expression softened, realizing that Guhin’s isolation was a painful sacrifice rather than a selfish retreat. The wilderness of Jhorfa—a place feared by most—had become Guhin’s refuge, a testament to his unspoken duty to protect others from the darkness he carried, and from the ones hunting him.

Bokun let the silence linger, then shook his head slightly. “Well, you've been out here for hours, and no one has found you yet.” His voice was firm yet compassionate. “Besides, I chose to help you, Yu-lin,” he said. “I fought those freaks because I wanted to, and I’d do it again if I had to.”

He took a step closer, his eyes searching Guhin’s face for any sign of understanding. The firelight flickered between them, casting shadows that danced with the tension in the air.

“Yu-lin,” he said, his voice more cautious now, “who were those people?”

Guhin didn’t answer right away. His gaze remained fixed on the fire, flames reflecting in his eyes as if they held the answers he sought. When he finally spoke, his voice was distant, and heavy with uncertainty. “I don’t know…”

Bokun studied him, trying to gauge the truth in his words. Guhin seemed genuine, but it also left too many questions unanswered. Bokun knew that whatever forces were at play, they were far from ordinary.

He felt an instinctive urge to reach out, to offer some form of reassurance in the only way he knew how. He placed a firm hand on Guhin’s shoulder. In an instant, Guhin’s demeanor shifted, his body tensing.

Before Bokun could react, he leaped back, movements swift and precise, putting distance between them. His teeth bared in a reflexive snarl, eyes wild with the instincts of a man who had spent years on the run, always looking over his shoulder, always expecting the worst.

For a moment, Bokun’s eyes narrowed, ready to respond, but then he saw it—the flicker of shame in Guhin’s gaze. The cold ferocity melted away, replaced by a deep, unmistakable regret. Guhin’s fists unclenched, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as he tried to regain control. He looked away, unable to meet Bokun’s eyes.

Bokun’s voice softened, calm but with a thread of urgency. “Whatever you’ve got going on right now, whatever shit you’ve gotten yourself into, it’ll have to wait, Yu-lin,” he said, a rare note of understanding slipping into his words. “Right now, Valherya needs your strength, your speed.” He took a steadying breath. “This witch… she’s a calamity waiting to happen, a threat neither of us can afford to ignore.” He held Guhin’s gaze, a final plea in his eyes. “I need you, Yu-lin.”

Bokun was fully aware of the power simmering beneath Guhin’s surface. He’d felt it firsthand—the barely controlled rage within him. A predator. He couldn’t deny the risk he was taking. Still, he needed that power now, as much as he feared it. Valherya was at stake, and Guhin was the only one who could match the witch’s strength if it came to that.

The mention of the witch rekindled a different worry within Guhin. “We still have some time," Bokun urged. “Those ropes that bound her, they were the Ropes of Kāro. They’ve drained her magic, but it’s only a matter of days before she regains her full strength. The last trail Etro caught of her was on the way to Aryan, to the west. If we can find her before she regains her power, it will be easy to stop her.”

Aryan. The name struck Guhin like a physical blow, dredging up memories of the only life that had ever made him feel human. He thought of Ishu, the one person he’d said goodbye to with what he believed was his final breath. But hearing Bokun’s words, dread settled in his chest.

Seeing the shift in Guhin’s expression, Bokun pressed on, his voice firm. “I know you don’t want to do this for me, that’s fine. But do it for your people. They’re innocent, and they have nothing to do with the affairs of Furiël, let alone a witch set loose by a Valherian!” he shouted.

Guhin’s jaw tightened. The thought of returning to Ishu, of facing the only friend he’d left behind, tore at him. But the idea of Ishu being in danger, of that witch wreaking havoc, was even worse.

In the quiet that followed, the darkness slithered through his mind, cold and hungry. Do it... for the people of Valherya? No... do it for... us... it hissed, a shiver of dark amusement weaving into his thoughts. I haven't eaten a witch before.

Its insatiable desire clawing at the edges of his mind. Guhin gritted his teeth, struggling to push it down, to silence the beast within that craved destruction and chaos.

But Bokun, focused on Guhin’s reaction, continued, unaware of the internal battle raging within. “These people are innocent, Yu-lin. They don’t deserve this.”

The darkness lingered, whispering with greedy intent. A witch would taste rich with power, wouldn’t she? A delicacy...

Guhin clenched his fists, muscles in his jaw tightening as he forced the voice back into the shadows. As it slithered away, its whispers dulled to a murmur. His gaze sharpened, his mind finally clear as he met Bokun’s eyes.

“Fine,” he said at last, his voice rough. “We’ll go after her. For the people of Valherya. For Ishu."

Bokun’s gaze held his, nodding with a trace of satisfaction. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Guhin hesitated for a moment, then asked, “That woman. What's her name?”

A shadow crossed Bokun’s features. “Merin.”

Guhin recalled her appearance vividly—brown hair blowing in the wind, her blue eyes, though they seemed innocent, were filled with an unsettling depth.

As the crackling of the campfire's embers, fades into the starlit sky. The uneasy alliance between them was formed under strained circumstances, but both Guhin and Bokun knew that their goals aligned, if only temporarily.

GUHIN!