After their hands clasped, both Guhin and Bokun settled back into their seats, the silence stretching as they thought about the mission ahead.

Guhin finally spoke, his voice low and steady. “So what’s the plan if we do find her? Got any more of those… Ropes of...?” The name was on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach.

Bokun let out a dry laugh. “I wish. The Ropes of Kāro were destroyed during our fight. Old magic like that is irreplacable. They're made to sever your connection to the magical plane, no matter who you are. Without them, all we have is skill and steel.”

Guhin’s mood soured as the realization sank in. “So, there's no guarantee we can capture her.”

Bokun nodded grimly. “We’ll have to handle it the old-fashioned way. Your speed is our best advantage. My blade never found its mark when we fought, hell, even my eyes could barely keep up with you. It’ll be the same for her. She might have all the magic in the world, but she’s got no experience in a real fight. She’s no warrior.” He paused, his eyes hardening. “If you can get close, overpower her quickly, we end this before she can even cast a spell. And if she’s fully restored… well.”

Guhin’s mind was already racing through possible moves. Bokun watched him closely, then spoke, “That’s where you come in, Yu-lin."

“I knew it,” Guhin said, gaze dropping to the fire.

Bokun’s voice turned sharp. “Whatever it was you showed me back there, you might have to use it."

Guhin’s jaw tightened. “I’m not some ‘thing’ you can just throw at her. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“Neither do you. A blind man could see that,” Bokun shot back, tension sparking between them. But he softened, just slightly. “Don’t worry, Yu-lin, I know you're more than that. But if we’re out of options, your power might be the only chance we have left. I need her alive for Erduwyn, but if she’s too strong to capture…Her head will have to do.”

“Alive?” Guhin asked, his tone skeptical.

Bokun nodded in return. “The council of Ishaldar wants her banished, not dead—they want her to suffer. Erduwyn’s the only place that can ensure that, and if she’s anything like her grandfather, we can’t afford to take chances.”

Guhin gave a slight nod of agreement. And after a brief silence, Bokun glanced over. “How about this. We’ll follow Etro’s nose, see where it takes us. If she’s in Aryan, you can stay back with him until I give the signal."

He clicked his tongue, and Etro trotted over obediently. Bokun scratched the horse’s neck, adding, “He might not look like it—” at that moment, Etro lowered his head and gave Bokun a solid headbutt. “Ow! You son of a… As I said, he doesn’t look like it,” Bokun muttered, catching Etro by the mouth as the horse tried another headbutt, gently pushing his head back, “but he’s got a good set of ears on 'em.”

Reaching beneath Etro’s saddle, Bokun pulled out a small whistle carved from a piece of oak, and blew on it. No sound could be heard, but Etro’s ears twitched, responding to the silent signal. “This little guy will let you know when I’ve found her. Then we draw her out—make sure no one else gets caught up in this mess.”

He met Guhin’s gaze, his tone hardening. “But if she’s not in the village, we take her down hard. No spells, no time to cast. You close in, and she’s done before she knows what hit her.”

A hint of grim acceptance flickered in Guhin’s eyes. “Then let’s hope it works.”

“Hope’s another luxury we can’t afford,” Bokun said, his tone steady. “We’ll make it work.”

Bokun reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a flask of water. Without a word, he tossed it to Guhin, who caught it with a slight nod of thanks. Bokun then settled himself back by the fire, his expression thoughtful. “We'll leave at first daylight,” Bokun said, his voice calm.

Guhin, however, wasn’t inclined to wait. He pushed himself up from the ground, determination flashing in his eyes. “Why wait?” he retorted, the urgency in his voice clear. “She could already be in Aryan for all we know.”

But as soon as he stood, the world tilted slightly. He lost his balance for a moment, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady himself. A sharp throb pulsed through his head, forcing him to clench his jaw against the pain.

As Guhin steadied himself, a whisper crept into his mind, slithering between the pounding pulses in his head. Look at you. Stumbling like a child. Can’t even stand on your own. Two. Feet.

image [https://i.imgur.com/Ya7DMzW.png]

The taunt pressed against his thoughts, fueling the exhaustion clawing at him. Guhin clenched his jaw harder, forcing the voice back into the shadows of his mind.

Bokun didn’t move to help, simply sat there, watching as Guhin struggled to regain his composure. “That’s why."

Guhin shook his head, trying to clear the dizziness, but the effort only made the throbbing in his skull worse. Bokun continued, his voice softening slightly. “You can rest, I still have to prepare myself for our hunt in the morning, go on and get some sleep.”

Guhin hesitated for a moment, his pride warring with his exhaustion. But with a reluctant nod, he sank back down onto the pelts of fur beneath him, allowing the warmth of the fire to soothe his aching body.

He took a sip of water from the flask Bokun had thrown him earlier, the cool liquid easing the dryness in his throat. As he settled into the pelts, his eyes remained on Bokun, watching as the massive warrior began his preparations for the coming day.

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Bokun moved to Etro, and reached into one of the saddlebags still on the saddle. His hand delved into a small, concealed pouch, hidden between the other bags. From it, he pulled out three runes, their surfaces marked with twisting patterns and delicate carvings that seemed to shimmer faintly in the firelight.

Guhin’s curiosity piqued as he observed Bokun’s actions. The runes seemed to pulse with a subtle energy, a protective force rather than something malevolent. Bokun handled the runes with a careful reverence, his expression focused as he moved his hand towards his shoulder.

He inserted two of the runes into the hollow eye sockets of the bear engraved on his shoulder armor. As he did, a subtle wave of white energy spread through the metal, causing the armor to emit a faint vibration.

The edges of the armor briefly glowed with the symbols of the runes before they faded, leaving behind a quiet hum of protection. The moment the runes activated, Bokun’s armor seemed to lighten, as if the weight of the metal had been lifted, making it feel as though he wasn’t wearing it at all.

Finally, Bokun took the last rune and approached his sheath next to the fire. With a fluid motion, he gripped the hilt of his greatsword and as he began to draw it, Guhin noticed something... unusual—the leather straps securing the blade started unbuckling on their own, parting in sync with Bokun’s pull. A low, metallic screech resonated through the night as the blade slid free, its edge scraping along a polished metal plate embedded within the leather.

Guhin’s eyes narrowed. He had felt that blade grazing his side before, a flash of steel as Bokun had tried to cleave him. But now, observing it closely, he saw the mechanics of the sheath—something strange about the way it functioned with the massive sword. It seemed impossible to draw such a large weapon so smoothly, yet here it was.

Fully withdrawn, Guhin saw how the leather straps moved on their own, stretching toward the sword as though they were trying to pull it back in. “What is that?” Guhin asked, unable to hide the curiosity in his tone.

Bokun glanced over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What? Never seen an enchantment before?” He took the last rune and pressed it into the pommel of his sword. A faint pulse of white energy radiated outward, spreading over the blade’s surface. The symbols shimmered and flickered, then faded, leaving the metal humming with a subtle, protective resonance, much like his armor.

Guhin’s gaze stayed fixed on the sheath, watching as the straps still twitched and stretched toward Bokun's blade. “No,” he replied honestly.

Bokun smiled and tossed the greatsword toward the sheath. The enchanted straps and leather, responded instantly, reaching up as the blade landed, wrapping around it with a snug fit, securing it perfectly.

He gave Guhin a sly glance. “How else do you expect me to draw that thing? Look at it, it's almost as big as me." He tapped the runes embedded in his armor. “And these, they'll keep me safe,” he added, his voice firm. "I don't have any magic of my own, but runic enchantments are more than enough to even the odds, you'll see soon enough."

As Bokun finished his preparations, he started folding the empty bags and carefully stowing them away, Guhin lay on the pelts, waiting for sleep to come. Despite his exhaustion, his mind was too restless, questions swirling in his thoughts. He watched Bokun's methodical movements, the flickering firelight casting long shadows around them.

Bokun,” Guhin finally said, his voice breaking the quiet of the night. For the first time, he called him by his name instead of ‘idiot.’

Bokun paused, glancing over at Guhin, a slight raise of his eyebrow signaling his surprise at the change in tone. "Do you really believe your father would have you killed if you fail?” Guhin asked, his voice calm and direct.

Bokun’s lips twisted into a smile as he resumed his task. “Thah, the mighty king Furyan is too much of a coward to kill his own blood,” he said, his tone laced with bitterness. “He has his personal guards for that.”

Guhin frowned slightly, considering the statement. “I thought you were the personal guards.”

Bokun chuckled, a low, humorless sound. “Yes, that’s true. The Royal Guards have been around for centuries. It’s a tradition of our lands. But not everyone who joins our ranks has the kingdom’s best interests at heart.”

He leaned back slightly, his gaze shifting to the fire. “My father… he’s a man who trusts no one, not even his own kin. That’s why he created the Heishi'mhora.” Guhin listened, his attention sharpened at the unfamiliar name.

Bokun noticed, a shadow crossing his face as he continued. “The Heishi'mhora are the king’s true personal guards. They’re a select group, handpicked from across the world, warriors with no ties to our homeland, no loyalty to anyone but the king himself. Their existence is unknown to the people of Furiël, a secret that my father keeps close to his chest.”

He paused for a moment as a falling star went over their heads. “The Heishi'mhora are the ones you answer to when you fail, or worse, commit any sign of treason. They’re the king’s final line of defense, the enforcers of his will when all else fails.”

"You see, failure isn’t just a personal matter in our world.” Bokun continued, his voice softening slightly, “It’s a death sentence."

Guhin didn’t respond immediately, letting the words sink in. The fire crackled softly, the night around them feeling suddenly colder, more threatening. He could see now that Bokun’s life was a complex web of duty, danger, and mistrust, where even those closest to the king were never truly safe.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Guhin finally said, his voice a low murmur, more to himself than to Bokun.

Bokun nodded. “Now for the last time, get some rest.” he said, turning away from the fire. “Tomorrow, we’ll need every bit of strength we've got.”

As Bokun turned to walk away, Guhin called out, his voice steady but tense. “And if they come back… what then?"

Bokun paused, throwing a casual glance over his shoulder. “We’ll worry about that when it happens. I doubt those maggots will show their faces again. Not after what you did to 'em.” A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Next time will be different—you’ll see.”

Guhin shook his head. “No. There is no 'next time.' As soon as they show themselves, I want you to run.”

Bokun stared at him, his face hardening. “Run?” he repeated, almost as if he hadn’t heard right.

“You heard me. Don’t challenge them again,” Guhin insisted, his eyes steady. “They’ll tear apart anything that stands in their way.”

Bokun’s gaze narrowed, irritation flaring. “You’re asking me to turn my back and let them finish what they started?”

“I’m asking you to keep everyone safe,” Guhin replied, his voice firm. "I’m their target, let them come for me, not the village, not anyone else.”

Bokun’s lips pressed into a thin line. He nodded slowly, though something unreadable glinted in his eyes. “Sure,” he said at last, though the word felt hollow, like a promise he wasn’t sure he’d keep.

Inside, a flicker of irritation sparked in Bokun’s chest. Run? He wasn’t the type to flee from a fight, especially not after being bested in battle. The sting of his recent defeat still gnawed at him, a reminder of his own limitations. Losing had never sat well with him, especially not when it came at the hands of those masked cowards. What they lacked in strength, they sure made up in number.

And that huntress, she hadn’t just outmatched him, she had humiliated him in hand-to-hand combat. He clenched his jaw, suppressing the surge of frustration that threatened to surface. The thought of backing down now, of running from another confrontation, felt like salt in an open wound.

But he knew better than to let his pride dictate his actions. Keeping Guhin’s trust, was crucial. There would be another time, another place, where he could redeem himself. He wouldn’t forget what happened, but for now, he’d play along.

With a forced, easy smile, Bokun responded lightly, “You have my word.” masking the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface. Turning away from Guhin’s gaze, he resumed folding the empty bags and securing them to Etro's saddle, his movements deliberate as he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. If those masked warriors returned, he would be ready. This time, he would be prepared.

Guhin watched him for a moment longer before finally lying down on the pelts. The thoughts of Merin, Ishu, the darkness within, and the hunters who pursued him circled in his mind. He knew their journey would only grow more dangerous from here.

GUHIN!