Chapter 25: Panicked Flight & Misunderstandings

The forest was a dying cathedral. Its ancient trees, gnarled and bent, shed brittle leaves in shades of rust. The air was sharp with autumn’s chill, a bitter wind slipping through branches like unseen fingers. Kael moved quietly beneath the thinning canopy, boots soft against the mulch of leaves and soil.

His breath misted in the cold as he followed the tracks—massive hoof prints pressed deep into the earth. It was just another baby boar. A proper hunt, Kael thought grimly. Enough meat to last a month.

He crouched, crossbow cradled close to his chest, its familiar weight comforting in his hands. The modified weapon gleamed faintly, the serpent scale embedded in its core, its essence pool twice as large as the old core. Four bolts. That was all he had, but each shot mattered. Kael brushed a calloused thumb over the etched grooves along the stock, steadying himself. He needed to be quick. Precise.

Up ahead, the underbrush trembled.

Kael froze, sinking lower into the shadows. He exhaled carefully through his nose, raising the crossbow as the beast lumbered into view. A baby boar, maybe, but it was still enormous—a towering mass of muscle, bristled black fur, and yellow tusks the size of sickles. Its beady red eyes swept the clearing, breath puffing out in ragged clouds.

Kael’s finger rested on the trigger. The boar snorted, pawing the ground, its broad snout rooting through fallen leaves. He shifted his weight, lining up the shot—

The egg.

It hit him like a blow to the chest. A pulse of emotion, sudden and primal—fear. Not his own, but the egg’s. Kael gasped softly, lowering the crossbow an inch as the pulse rippled through him, a fluttering, keening cry that clawed at his chest. He staggered back a step, boots crunching on brittle leaves.

The boar’s head snapped up. Its eyes fixed on him.

No. Kael gritted his teeth, fighting to clear his mind. The fear pressed in, heavy and foreign, but he pushed it aside. His hands trembled on the crossbow as he stumbled backward. The boar snorted, huffing a breath that misted in the cold air. It charged.

Kael’s body moved on instinct. He leveled the crossbow and fired. The serpent scale flared, and the bolt hissed through the air, drilling into the beast’s shoulder and leaving a nasty hole as it exited. The boar screamed—a sound like iron scraping stone—but it didn’t stop. Blood sprayed across the fallen leaves as it thundered forward, closing the distance.

Kael scrambled back, throwing himself sideways as the boar barreled past, tusks carving a furrow into the earth where he’d stood. He rolled to his knees, reloading with shaking hands, his breath ragged.

The egg, he realized. It’s scared. Something’s wrong.

He didn’t have time to think. He fired another shot into the boar’s side, hearing the satisfying crunch of steel punching through hide. The beast squealed, staggering, but still it turned to face him. Kael stood, raising the crossbow again.

And then the egg pulsed—stronger this time. Kael staggered, a sharp ache blooming in his skull. A feeling of panic, of helplessness. It overwhelmed him. It’s in danger.

He almost wasted another bolt on the boar, but there was no need. With a groan like a felled tree, the beast collapsed, its massive body kicking up dust and scattering leaves. Kael didn’t stop to look. He slung the crossbow over his back and sprinted into the trees.

The forest felt tighter, darker, as if the world itself were closing in. The air hung heavy with rot and decay, the sharp bite of autumn mingling with something foul. Kael pushed forward as fast as he dared, his breath ragged but quiet. Every step mattered now. If the egg’s fear was real—if something was happening—he needed to reach it. But recklessness would get him killed.

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The monsters were out again. More of them this time. He could feel it—an uneasy stillness broken only by low growls, soft rustling, and the occasional snap of a twig. Shapes moved in the periphery of his vision, hulking figures half-hidden by shadow. Lurkers with their elongated jaws skittered through the underbrush, while taller, malformed silhouettes loomed deeper in the gloom, their red and yellow eyes gleaming like hot coals.

There are more. The thought chilled him, though it wasn’t surprising. Over the last week, the forest had grown worse. The monsters—whatever they were—had been multiplying, spreading like rot. Every night, their growls grew louder, their movements closer. Something was driving them, though Kael didn’t know what.

He crouched low, slipping behind the trunk of a broad iron-barked tree as a pair of lurkers scuttled across the path ahead. Their limbs bent at sickening angles, claws clicking over fallen branches. Kael stilled his breathing, heart pounding against his ribs. He couldn’t afford to draw their attention.

Move, but stay unseen.

When they passed, he darted forward, weaving through the trees with practiced precision. He moved like a shadow, silent and quick, his eyes scanning for threats. The egg’s pulse throbbed in his chest, sharper now, as though the bond was tightening with every step. Fear mingled with desperation, fueling his movements even as his legs burned and his body screamed for rest.

At one point, a shape rose to his left—a hulking, broad-shouldered creature with too many eyes. Kael froze behind a fallen log, clutching the crossbow at his side, his knuckles white against the worn wood. The thing sniffed the air, a wet, rumbling sound, its jagged teeth glinting as it turned its head this way and that. Kael didn’t move, didn’t breathe, until the creature lumbered away.

They’re waiting, he thought grimly as he continued on, ducking low beneath hanging branches. Watching me.

The egg’s fear hit him again—a jolt, sharp and frantic. It pulled him forward, guiding him like a compass needle. He skirted through a dried creek bed, past gnarled roots and patches of sharp thorns, careful to stay hidden from the growing chorus of shuffling feet and guttural sounds that surrounded him.

Every shadow felt like it was watching him. Every breath of wind carried a scent of blood and rot.

When he finally reached the rocks that formed the walls of his camp, Kael was soaked in sweat, his arms scraped raw and his lungs screaming for air. He didn’t stop. He threw himself up the jagged face, fingers digging into cracks, boots scraping over loose stones as he climbed.

The voices reached him before the top. Human voices. He froze just below the ledge, his chest heaving as he strained to listen.

“Kate, I said don’t touch it!” a man barked. His voice was harsh, authoritative, and edged with anger.

“I wasn’t going to,” came a woman’s sharp reply. “But one of them is cracking, my lord. That means—”

“That means it’s bonded.” The man’s voice lowered, cold and sure. “And if it’s bonded, someone’s nearby. Someone who won’t take kindly to us.”

Kael felt ice settle in his gut. They know.

He peeked over the ridge, heart pounding in his ears. The camp was swarming with strangers—sixteen of them, men and women in ragged armor stained with blood and ash. They looked like bandits, but there was something else about them. Soldiers, once. Hardened survivors or defectors from the battle between the humans and the orcs.

The leader stood at the center. A golden-haired man, tall and broad, his scorched armor still bearing the faint insignia of a long-dead banner. Beside him, a green-haired woman—Kate—hovered too close to the two dragon eggs. Her face hovering above the egg with dozens of tiny fissures running along its surface. His egg.

Kael’s muscles coiled with tension, his pulse roaring. The egg’s fear flared again, frantic now, and Kael felt it like a stone in his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to focus.

The golden-haired man turned, his voice carrying across the clearing. “If it’s bonded, the gods are watching. Touching it would be blasphemy. A curse on all of us.”

“What about the other one,” Kate asked, her gaze flicking back to the unbonded egg.

“That one is just what we need,” the man growled. “Lyanna will be very pleased if we bring it back.”

Kael’s breathing quickened. He slid back down the rocks, unslinging his crossbow with shaking hands. Sixteen of them. Four bolts. He thumbed the safety, feeling the faint vibration of the serpent scale beneath his touch.

Four shots. Four good shots. The leader first, he thought. Then Kate. Then two more before they realized where he was.

And then?

Kael glanced toward the campfire, where his sword lay waiting. Then I charge. Maybe they’ll scatter. Maybe they’ll think better of angering the gods.

The egg pulsed again, and Kael exhaled slowly, steadying his aim.

“I’m coming,” he whispered.

And with that, he climbed back up the ridge, crossbow raised, ready to fight for the only thing that mattered.