Cole Bennett CH5 Continued
Cole was already awake when Lyrelle entered the room, already dressed in her traveling armor. She wore a fitted, dark green leather jerkin reinforced with light, overlapping metal plates along the shoulders and upper chest, offering protection without hindering her agility. Beneath the jerkin was a close-fitting black tunic with long sleeves, the fabric woven with subtle elven patterns that shimmered faintly when the light hit them just right. Her leggings were made of thick, flexible leather, dyed a deep brown and reinforced at the knees for durability.
Her boots were tall and sturdy, reaching just below her knees, crafted from supple leather designed for long treks and uneven terrain. A cloak, also dark green, was fastened over her shoulders with a simple silver clasp shaped like a leaf. The hem of the cloak was slightly frayed, a sign of frequent use, but the rest of her attire was meticulously maintained. The overall look was practical yet unmistakably elven, blending utility with the refined craftsmanship her people were known for.
She placed a small plate of food on the table beside Cole, along with the remainder of the potion. Without hesitation, Cole tore into the food, clearly starving after the day’s events. Meanwhile, Lyrelle moved to the desk and pulled out a small bag, no larger than a coin purse.
Cole froze mid-bite, nearly choking on a piece of bread, as Lyrelle casually stuck her entire arm into the bag. His eyes widened in disbelief as she began pulling out item after item, the bag seemingly bottomless.
"I know this place has magic and that I shouldn’t be surprised by stuff like this," Cole said, shaking his head as he watched her pull yet another item from the tiny bag. "But... damn, it’s hard not to be."
Lyrelle arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment, instead setting down a neatly folded set of clothing and a pair of sturdy boots next to the bed. “Once you’ve eaten and put this set of clothing on,” she said, gesturing to them, “call for me. I’ll assist you with putting on the armor, since it’s your first time. I’ll show you how to put it on properly and where everything should sit. Understood?”
Cole nodded, still chewing on his food, and gave her a thumbs up. He swallowed hard, then added, “Yeah, understood.”
Lyrelle gave him a curt nod before turning back to her preparations, leaving him to finish his meal.
Once Cole finished his meal, Lyrelle returned to the room, carrying the pieces of armor she had prepared for him. She moved with quiet efficiency, setting the armor out piece by piece on the desk. The gear was sleek, practical, and unmistakably elven in design, with subtle details etched into the leather—a delicate vine motif that shimmered faintly in the room’s dim light.
“Let’s get you suited up,” Lyrelle said, motioning for him to stand.
Cole pushed himself up off the bed and stood a little unsteadily, the stiffness in his body fading as he moved. Lyrelle handed him the leather jerkin first.
“This is your chest piece,” she explained, holding it out for him. “It’s reinforced with layered panels to protect your vital areas while keeping it lightweight. Slide it over your head.”
Cole did as instructed, and Lyrelle stepped behind him to adjust the fit. She fastened the straps on the sides, tugging them tight but not overly so. “It should sit close to your body without restricting your movement. See? Flex your arms and twist.”
Cole tested it, moving his shoulders and torso. “Not bad. Feels... solid.”
“Good,” Lyrelle said, picking up the bracers. “Now for your forearms. These are bracers. They’ll protect against glancing blows but won’t interfere with your grip or weapon handling.” She strapped them snugly around his arms, the leather fitting securely without pinching. “Always make sure they’re tight enough to stay in place but not cutting off circulation.”
Next, she knelt down and grabbed the greaves. “These are for your legs. They’ll protect your shins and knees, which are easy targets in a fight.” She strapped the greaves around his calves, adjusting the fit so they sat flush against his legs. “See how the knee guard sits just over the joint? You need to be able to bend freely without them slipping.”
She reached for the boots next. “These are reinforced leather boots. Sturdy enough for long travel and durable enough to take a hit. The toe and heel are reinforced with enchanted metal, and the soles will keep you steady on rough terrain.” She helped him slide them on, tightening the laces and ensuring the fit was secure. “Walk around. Get a feel for them.”
Cole took a few steps, the armor feeling surprisingly light and comfortable. “This is... actually kind of impressive,” he admitted, glancing down at the elven craftsmanship.
Lyrelle grabbed the dark green cloak from the desk and handed it to him. “Lastly, your cloak. Hooded, enchanted to repel water and dirt. It won’t weigh you down, and it’ll help with camouflage.”
Cole draped it over his shoulders, fastening the simple silver clasp. “This feels... a little too nice for someone like me.”
Lyrelle’s sharp green eyes met his. “It’s not about what you think you deserve. It’s about what you need to survive. Now, wear it for a while. Get used to the weight and how it moves with you. And remember how to put it on, because next time, you’re doing it yourself.”
Cole nodded, still adjusting to the feel of the armor. “Understood.”
Lyrelle stepped back, crossing her arms as she assessed him one final time. “Good.” With that, she turned and left the room, leaving Cole to grow accustomed to his new armor.
If Cole was being honest with himself, he wished he had a mirror right now. He moved around the room, testing the fit of the armor. He bent his knees, twisted his torso, and rolled his shoulders. Each movement felt natural, the armor moving with him rather than against him. He caught his reflection faintly in the window and couldn’t help but grin.
Strutting around the small room, he adjusted the cloak over his shoulders and gave an exaggerated pose. “Yeah,” he muttered to himself, feeling a surge of confidence he hadn’t felt in years. “I look... badass.”
The armor was lighter than he’d expected but sturdy, and the craftsmanship was unlike anything he’d ever worn before. He couldn’t help but grin, nerves be damned for the moment.
Lyrelle returned to the room, carrying two sheathed daggers and a small pouch that looked identical to the one she’d stuck her arm into earlier. Without a word, she set the items on the desk and motioned for Cole to pay attention.
“These are yours,” she said, holding up the daggers. They were sleek and simple, their hilts wrapped in dark leather with small, engraved patterns that marked them as elven-made. “Nothing fancy, but they’ll get the job done. You’ll wear them like I do, so they’re always within reach.”
She picked up the first dagger and gestured for him to step closer. “This one goes on your right hip,” she said, sliding it into a loop attached to his belt. “It’s positioned for a cross-draw, meaning you’ll reach across your body with your left hand to unsheath it. That way, if your dominant hand is occupied or injured, you’ve still got a weapon at the ready.”
Cole nodded, watching closely as she adjusted the loop to keep the sheath secure but easy to draw from. “Tug on it,” she instructed. He pulled on the hilt lightly, testing the setup, and it slid free with no resistance.
“Good,” she said, stepping back. Then she crouched down and picked up the second dagger. “The other one is for your right boot. Always have a backup where no one expects it. If someone disarms you, this could save your life.”
She knelt and adjusted the sheath, threading the strap through the loops on his boot and securing it just above the ankle. “See how it’s angled? You’ll need to reach down and pull it out smoothly. Try it.”
Cole bent down and tested the draw. It was a bit awkward at first, but after a few tries, he got the motion right. “Not bad,” he said, looking down at the dagger on his boot. “Feels secure.”
“It should be,” Lyrelle replied, standing and brushing off her hands. “I show you how to keep them sharp, and don’t forget where they are. A dagger is worthless if you can’t reach it when you need it.”
Cole straightened, glancing at the new additions to his gear. “Do you carry yours the same way?” he asked.
Lyrelle nodded, resting a hand on her right hip where her own dagger was strapped. “Exactly the same. It keeps everything consistent. You’ll get used to it.”
He gave her a small grin. “I’ll admit, this is starting to feel... pretty cool. No sword?” cole chuckled
Lyrelle smirked faintly. “Absolutely, once you’ve had some training. Right now it would only get in your way. And Cole don’t let it go to your head. You’ve still got a lot to learn. Now get used to those placements. Draw and resheath them until it feels natural.”
Oh and this is yours Lyrelle held up a bag like the one she had stuck her arm into earlier. This is a bag of holding it can hold a nearly unlimited amount of items with no weight. These are incredibly important. It ties on to your belt like this it has all YOUR gear in it ill show you how to use it tonight when we make camp.
Cole nodded, his grin widening as he pulled the hip dagger free and practiced the motion, feeling the first flickers of confidence in his new role
He gave her a small grin. “I’ll admit, this is starting to feel... pretty cool. No sword?” Cole chuckled, his tone teasing.
Lyrelle smirked faintly. “Absolutely, once you’ve had some training. Right now, it would only get in your way.” Her expression turned serious as she added, “And, Cole, don’t let it go to your head. You’ve still got a lot to learn. Now get used to those placements. Draw and resheath them until it feels natural.”
She reached into her pouch and pulled out a small bag, identical to the one she had used earlier. “Oh, and this is yours,” she said, holding it up. “This is a bag of holding. It can carry a nearly unlimited amount of items with no weight. These are incredibly important.” She stepped forward and attached it to his belt with practiced efficiency. “It ties on here, like this. It has all your gear in it, and I’ll show you how to use it tonight when we make camp.”
Cole’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at the small pouch now dangling from his belt. “Unlimited, huh? No weight? That’s... hard to wrap my head around.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Lyrelle said with a faint smile.
Cole nodded, his grin returning as he practiced drawing and resheathing the hip dagger, his movements becoming a little smoother with each try. He could feel the first flickers of confidence in his new role, and for the first time, the prospect of what lay ahead didn’t seem so daunting.
The city was quiet as Lyrelle and Cole made their way through the winding streets, the only sound the soft echo of their footsteps against the cobblestones. The faint light of early dawn cast long shadows, and the air was crisp, carrying the scent of the forest just beyond the city’s walls.
Ahead, the massive gates loomed, guarded by two elves clad in gleaming armor. They stood tall and silent, their expressions unreadable. Cole glanced at them nervously, unsure if there would be some kind of formal procedure or farewell. But as Lyrelle approached, the guards exchanged a brief glance and, without a word, pushed the heavy doors open.
The sound of the gates creaking echoed through the stillness, and then the forest stretched out before them, bathed in the soft hues of morning light. Lyrelle didn’t break stride, leading the way out of the city as if nothing unusual had happened.
Cole hesitated for a moment, looking back at the city that had been his entire world for the past few days. Then he stepped through the gates, the massive doors closing behind them with a low, final thud. Just like that, they were out of the city.
He glanced at Lyrelle, who continued forward without looking back. Turning his gaze to the forest ahead, Cole couldn’t help but think to himself, That’s it? He had expected... something more. A challenge, a confrontation, or at least a few words exchanged. But there was nothing. It was almost anticlimactic.
Shaking his head, Cole adjusted the strap of his cloak and followed Lyrelle into the wilderness.
They walked along a narrow path that looked more like a game trail than anything meant for regular travel. The trees closed in around them, their branches creating a canopy that filtered the morning light into dappled patterns on the forest floor. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves beneath their boots and the occasional rustle of wildlife in the underbrush.
Hours passed, and the steady pace was beginning to wear on Cole. His throat was dry, and the fatigue of the unfamiliar trek was creeping in. Finally, he broke the silence. “Hey, Lyrelle, do we have any water?”
Without slowing down, Lyrelle glanced over her shoulder. “Reach into your bag of holding,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Think ‘waterskin,’ and you should feel it. Then pull it out.”
Cole frowned, unsure what she meant, but stopped walking to give it a try. He reached for the small bag at his belt, hesitating for a moment before sliding his hand inside. The sensation was strange—cool and weightless, like dipping his hand into still water. He focused, thinking waterskin, and almost immediately his fingers brushed against something smooth and firm. Gripping it, he pulled his hand free, and sure enough, a leather waterskin appeared in his grasp.
His eyes widened in surprise as he turned it over in his hands. “Okay, that’s... really cool,” he muttered before uncapping it and taking a long drink. The water was crisp and refreshing, better than anything he could have hoped for.
Do Lyrelle looked back, her pace unbroken. “That bag is more than just storage—it’s your lifeline out here. Learn to use it.”
Cole capped the waterskin and reattached it to his belt, jogging slightly to catch up to her. “Got it. Bag of holding is officially my new favorite thing.”
Lyrelle didn’t reply, but the faintest hint of a smirk crossed her face as they continued down the trail.
As they continued along the narrow trail, Cole found himself struggling more and more to keep up with Lyrelle. The steady pace she maintained seemed effortless, her steps precise and sure as she navigated the uneven ground. In contrast, Cole’s legs felt like they were on fire, his calves and thighs screaming with each step. His shoulders ached from the unfamiliar weight of the armor, and his boots, though well-made, seemed determined to rub his feet raw.
The trail twisted and climbed, the terrain growing steeper and more uneven. Cole’s breathing became labored, sweat dripping down his face and soaking the back of his tunic. Every time he glanced ahead, Lyrelle seemed just a little farther away, her pace unwavering.
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and muttered to himself, “How the hell is she not even breaking a sweat?”
The answer, he supposed, was obvious. Lyrelle was clearly used to this—her gear was perfectly adjusted, and she moved with the practiced ease of someone who had spent years walking trails like this. Cole, on the other hand, was just trying to keep his legs moving. His steps grew heavier, and he stumbled more often, catching his foot on hidden roots or uneven patches of ground.
He realized he was falling behind when he looked up and saw Lyrelle several paces ahead. She hadn’t slowed once, her cloak swaying lightly with each step. Cole gritted his teeth and pushed harder, trying to close the gap. But the effort only made his muscles protest louder, and his breathing grew even more ragged.
Finally, he called out, his voice strained. “Hey, Lyrelle! Could we maybe—” he stopped to catch his breath, “—slow down a bit?”
She paused, glancing back over her shoulder. Her sharp green eyes assessed him quickly, taking in the sweat dripping down his face and the way he leaned heavily against a nearby tree.
“We’ve barely covered any ground,” she said, her tone calm but tinged with impatience. “You’re not going to last long if you can’t handle this pace.”
Cole scowled, wiping his face again. “You could’ve warned me that ‘training’ started with a marathon.”
Lyrelle crossed her arms, waiting as he caught his breath. “You’ll adapt,” she said evenly. “Your body isn’t used to this, but it will be. For now reach into your bag think stamina potion, take a drink and put it back, let’s keep moving. We don’t have time to waste.”
Cole did as he was told, uncorking the vial and taking a long swig of the potion. The taste was sharp and herbal, but he barely noticed as the effects hit him almost immediately. The ache in his muscles vanished, as if he hadn’t walked a single step all day. His breathing steadied, and the tightness in his chest eased. For the first time in hours, he felt... refreshed, almost as though he’d woken up from the best nap of his life.
He rolled his shoulders experimentally and stretched his legs. The exhaustion that had weighed him down moments ago was completely gone, replaced by a lightness he hadn’t felt in ages. The change was so stark it almost felt unnatural.
But even with the potion working its magic, Cole couldn’t help but glance at Lyrelle with a mix of frustration and awe. She hadn’t needed a potion. She made this look so easy, her movements fluid and precise, her pace unbroken. Meanwhile, he felt like a lumbering amateur, stumbling along and barely keeping up. It wasn’t just her endurance; it was the way she carried herself—with purpose and skill that made him feel entirely out of his depth.
Still, he straightened his posture, adjusted his gear, and stepped back onto the trail beside her. If she could keep going without slowing down, then he sure as hell wasn’t going to complain. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath, mostly to himself. “Let’s do this.”
Still, he wasn’t going to let himself fall too far behind. Gritting his teeth, Cole pushed through the ache in his muscles and kept moving, determined not to let her outpace him completely. This was only the beginning, and he already knew it wasn’t going to get any easier.
The sun had climbed higher, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor as they continued their trek. Cole had started to find his rhythm, though his newfound energy from the potion couldn’t entirely suppress the monotony of walking for hours on end. Just as he was about to ask Lyrelle how much farther they had to go, she suddenly stopped.
Her hand shot up in a silent signal for him to halt. Cole froze, confused. To his untrained eyes, nothing seemed out of place—just more trees and the same narrow path. But Lyrelle’s posture had changed, her ears twitching slightly as her sharp green eyes scanned the area.
Without a word, she dropped to one knee and waved him forward. The movement was so deliberate and precise that Cole’s military instincts kicked in. Lowering himself into a crouch, he carefully made his way up to her position, his boots barely making a sound on the soft ground.
As he reached her side, Lyrelle leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper. “Now we get serious,” she said, her tone measured and calm. “This is the end of our territory and wards. Everything beyond this is wild and dangerous. You stay right behind me and stay quiet. If I crouch, you crouch. If I hide in the brush, so do you. Do you understand?”
Cole nodded, whispering back, “Yeah, monkey see, monkey do.”
Lyrelle turned her head, giving him an odd look, one brow arched in confusion.
Before she could ask, Cole clarified in a low voice, “I do what you do. I got it.”
She studied him for a moment, then gave a faint, approving nod. “Good. Keep it that way.”
Rising smoothly to her feet, Lyrelle began moving again, her steps even quieter than before. Cole followed, crouched slightly and trying to mimic her movements as best he could, his heart beating a little faster now that he knew they were stepping into untamed territory.
For a while, nothing seemed different or new. To Cole, it was just more of the same dense trees, uneven path, and filtered sunlight streaming through the canopy. He stayed behind Lyrelle as instructed, mirroring her movements exactly. If she crouched low, so did he. If she stepped carefully around a root or stone, he did the same.
Honestly, it felt like overkill. There wasn’t a sound or sight that hinted at anything dangerous. The forest seemed serene, even peaceful. No rustling in the brush, no distant roars, nothing to suggest they weren’t entirely alone out here. But Cole was no fool. He knew better than to let complacency take over.
Back in Afghanistan, he’d learned that the deadliest threats were often the ones you couldn’t see. A quiet, sunny village could seem harmless until someone opened fire or a roadside bomb went off. Parts of that country had been stunningly beautiful—so much so that it was easy to forget that people wanted to hurt you there. That lesson stuck with him.
The point was, just because he didn’t see danger didn’t mean it wasn’t there. And if Lyrelle said this place was dangerous, then it obviously was, whether he could spot it or not. He wasn’t about to ignore her lead. She had the experience, and he was the newcomer here, no matter how much he hated feeling out of his depth.
So, Cole kept his head down, his eyes scanning the forest as he followed her, his muscles tense and ready, trusting her to guide them safely through whatever might be lurking ahead.
After a few hours of cautious trekking, Lyrelle suddenly stopped in the middle of the trail. She held up her hand, then slowly lowered it as she crouched down, signaling for him to get down. Apparently, the universal military signal to hit the dirt applied here, too.
Cole immediately followed her lead, dropping low to the ground without hesitation. This time, she waved him forward, her hand motioning for him to approach. Keeping his body close to the ground, Cole low-crawled up the trail toward her position. He moved slowly and silently, every muscle tense as he focused on each deliberate motion.
When he reached her side, Lyrelle glanced at him, a large smile tugging at her lips. She gave him a quick nod of approval before gesturing toward the brush next to the trail. Without a word, she began moving into the dense undergrowth, her motions smooth and practiced.
And just like before, monkey see, monkey do. Cole followed.
Once they were under the cover of the brush, Cole followed Lyrelle closely. She moved with purpose, weaving through the undergrowth with a confidence he couldn’t hope to match. They came to a stop at the base of a massive tree—freaking massive. Its trunk was as wide as some houses back home, its roots twisting and spreading out like giant wooden arms gripping the earth.
Lyrelle dropped to one knee as they reached the base, her sharp green eyes scanning their surroundings. She gestured for Cole to stay low as he approached, her movements deliberate and precise. He crouched beside her, heart pounding, wondering what had caught her attention.
As Cole crouched beside her, the silence of the forest pressed in around them. He watched as Lyrelle’s hand began to move, so agonizingly slow it felt like time itself had slowed. Her fingers reached out with such deliberate care that even a slug might have told her to hurry up. Her hand gently grasped his, the touch feather-light, as if afraid to disturb the world around them.
She pulled him closer, her movements steady and controlled, and draped her arm around his shoulders. Cole froze, unsure of what to do, as she raised her other arm, her finger pointing ahead through the dense trees. The closeness was intimate, but the solemnity of the moment demanded his full attention.
Then, with a whisper so soft it was barely audible, her lips brushed against his ear, her breath warm as she spoke. “Celestine wyrm.”
Cole’s heart skipped, her words carrying a gravity he didn’t yet understand. He followed the line of her finger and looked, and what he saw stole his breath away.
Gliding silently through the trees was the Celestine Wyrm, a creature so astonishing that it seemed unreal. Its long, serpentine body moved with a grace that defied explanation, undulating smoothly through the air as though gravity had no hold on it. Its translucent, crystal-like form refracted the faint sunlight filtering through the canopy, casting vibrant rainbows across the forest floor and trees. The colors danced and shifted like liquid light, painting the world in hues that seemed pulled from dreams.
Its scales were not just shimmering—they were alive, each one displaying faint constellations that blinked and shifted as though the night sky had taken residence on its body. They pulsed faintly with a rhythm that felt ancient and deliberate, like the beating of some cosmic heart.
Its wings were immense, almost too large for the creature’s slender body. They didn’t flap but instead rippled like gossamer curtains of light, their colors shifting through greens, blues, violets, and golds, resembling the aurora borealis. The air around the wyrm seemed to hum softly, a melodic resonance that filled the stillness with an otherworldly harmony.
The wyrm’s head was regal and delicate, crowned with curved silver horns that shimmered faintly as they caught the refracted light. Its eyes—two glowing orbs of radiant white—seemed to hold the wisdom of eternity. They radiated a calm, overwhelming intelligence, one that made Cole feel both insignificant and profoundly connected to something far greater than himself.
As the Celestine Wyrm moved, the forest around it seemed to hold its breath. The usual sounds—rustling leaves, chirping birds—were utterly absent, replaced by a reverent stillness. Even the breeze seemed to pause in its presence. Tiny motes of light, like drifting stars, floated lazily around the creature, trailing behind it before fading softly into nothingness.
Cole’s jaw slackened as he watched, the sight unlike anything he had ever imagined. He felt like an intruder in the presence of something divine, something that should not be seen but only felt.
Next to him, Lyrelle remained still, her arm still around his shoulders. Her lips parted slightly, her gaze fixed on the wyrm with the kind of reverence he had only seen in people praying. She didn’t speak again—there was no need. Her awe matched his, proving that even someone as seasoned as her could be humbled by this rare and miraculous creature.
The Celestine Wyrm floated deeper into the forest, its glowing form gradually fading into the dappled shadows. As it disappeared, the forest slowly seemed to exhale. The birdsong returned, the leaves rustled in the breeze once more, and the hum of life resumed, as though nature itself had been waiting for permission to move again.
Cole realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out in a shaky exhale. “That...” he whispered, unable to find the words to finish. He turned his head slightly to look at Lyrelle, whose gaze remained fixed on the spot where the wyrm had disappeared, her awe lingering like the faint light still dancing in the air.
He whispered again, “That… what… that was… it was…”
Cole trailed off, unable to find the words for what he had just seen. The sheer enormity of the experience left him speechless, his mind struggling to catch up with his heart, which was still pounding in awe and wonder.
He turned his head slightly, his eyes landing on Lyrelle. She was still pressed up against him, her arm draped over his shoulders, her face close enough that he could see the faint rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She was watching the spot where the Celestine Wyrm had vanished, her green eyes wide with the same reverence he felt.
“That was incredible,” Cole finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t enough to encompass what he wanted to say, but it was all he could muster.
Lyrelle didn’t move, her gaze still fixed forward, her expression soft yet intense. “Yes,” she whispered back, the single word filled with more emotion than he’d thought he had heard from her before. Then, finally, she turned her head to look at him, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles.
Lyrelle spoke so softly that Cole almost had trouble hearing her, her voice barely above a breath. “I’ve wanted my whole life to see it... It’s been rumored, passed down in stories. I never believed it when anyone else said they saw it...”
Her words trailed off, her gaze still lingering on the space where the Celestine Wyrm had disappeared. There was a vulnerability in her voice, a reverence that Cole hadn’t heard from her before.
He watched her carefully, the way her sharp features seemed softer now, the usual edge of her demeanor smoothed by awe and disbelief. For the first time since he’d met her, she didn’t seem like the unshakable guide who had everything under control. She seemed human—almost fragile in her wonder.
“Did it live up to what you imagined?” Cole asked quietly, his own voice hushed as though speaking too loud might disturb the moment.
Lyrelle turned her head slightly, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles. “It was more,” she whispered, her green eyes meeting his. “So much more.”
Lyrelle turned her gaze back to the empty space where the Celestine Wyrm had disappeared, her expression a mix of awe and quiet determination. She took a deep breath, as if trying to collect her thoughts, before speaking again.
“It means… it always appears when it’s needed most,” she began softly, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. “The Celestine Wyrm is more than a creature—it’s a symbol. A guardian of balance, of harmony. Its presence is said to remind those who see it of the path they’re meant to walk.”
Cole watched her intently, noticing how her normally sharp and confident demeanor had softened. She looked almost vulnerable in the wake of what they’d just witnessed.
“For me,” she continued, her gaze distant, “it reaffirms that I’m doing the right thing. That leaving my home, my people, to help you… it wasn’t just a rash decision. It was the right one.” Her green eyes flicked back to his, piercing but sincere. “Even if it feels uncertain, even if it’s dangerous, I have to believe this is the path I’m meant to follow. Seeing the wyrm—it’s like the forest itself is telling me to trust that.”
Cole felt a lump in his throat as he listened, understanding the weight of what she was saying. He knew she had taken a huge risk by leaving her life behind to help him, and now she had found meaning in a moment he could barely comprehend.
She glanced down, her lips pressing into a faint smile. “It’s said the wyrm only reveals itself to those who need guidance—or those who are about to face something far bigger than themselves.” Her voice dropped slightly, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. “I’ve doubted, even if I wouldn’t admit it. But now… now I know this is where I’m meant to be.”
Cole nodded slowly, unsure what to say but feeling the significance of her words settle over them like the lingering glow of the wyrm’s light. “Then I guess,” he said quietly, “I’ve got no choice but to make sure you were right to trust me.”
Lyrelle’s faint smile widened just a little, and she gave a small nod. “Good,” she said, her tone regaining some of its usual firmness. “Let’s keep moving.”
They slowly and silently made their way back onto the trail and continued their journey. The forest grew quieter as the sun began its descent, the fading light casting long shadows across the path. Cole’s muscles ached again, despite the earlier potion, but he didn’t complain. He focused on keeping his movements quiet and deliberate, mirroring Lyrelle’s steps as best he could.
Finally, as the sun sank lower, Lyrelle stopped again. She turned off the trail without a word, gesturing for Cole to follow. He moved behind her as silently as he could, his eyes scanning their surroundings as she led him toward an outcropping of rocks nestled in a dense cluster of trees.
Cole watched as Lyrelle approached the rocks, her movements calm and deliberate. She seemed to vanish into the stone itself, slipping between the boulders so smoothly that it was as though the forest had swallowed her whole. He hesitated, stepping closer to where she had disappeared. The gap between the rocks didn’t seem wide enough for a person to pass through, and he stopped, unsure where to go next.
Before he could call out, a hand shot out from the stone in front of him, grabbing him firmly by the breastplate. He barely had time to react before Lyrelle yanked him forward with surprising strength, pulling him into what felt like solid rock.
As he passed through, the air around him changed instantly. What had seemed like impenetrable stone gave way to a dimly lit cavern. The faint flicker of glowing moss clinging to the walls cast soft green and blue light, illuminating the small, enclosed space. Lyrelle stood a few feet away, her hand still outstretched, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.
“Welcome to tonight’s camp,” she said, her tone light but with a trace of weariness. She stepped back and gestured toward the space around them. “It’s hidden, safe, and quiet. You’ll be able to rest here without worrying about anything finding us.”
Cole turned slowly, taking in the cavern. The ceiling arched above them, the walls glimmering faintly with the moss’s bioluminescent glow. It was cool and dry, and the air carried a faint, earthy scent. He exhaled slowly, relieved to finally stop for the night.
“You weren’t kidding about safe,” he said, glancing back at the rock they had passed through. “How did you even find this place?”
Lyrelle shrugged, setting her bag of holding down against the wall. “Its as old as my people” she said simply. “And a little help from the forest. Now, rest while I set things up.”
Cole nodded, unfastening his breastplate and sinking onto the cool stone floor. He watched her as she moved, already starting to prepare their shelter for the night, her every motion deliberate and efficient.
Lyrelle pulled out what looked to Cole like two sleeping bags from her bag of holding, their compact size belying how thick and well-crafted they were. She laid them out next to each other on the smooth stone floor, brushing off a few stray bits of moss.
“This cave will stay warm regardless of the temperature outside,” she said matter-of-factly, glancing at Cole as she worked. “Thanks to the magic of my ancestors. We have many such hidden camps throughout the forest.”
Cole raised an eyebrow, glancing around the dimly lit cavern. “Convenient,” he muttered, running a hand over the smooth floor beneath him. “You elves sure know how to make roughing it feel... not so rough.”
Lyrelle smirked faintly but didn’t look up as she adjusted the sleeping bags. “It’s not about comfort—it’s about survival. These camps are hidden, warded, and safe. Places like this have kept my people alive for centuries.”
Cole nodded, leaning back against the cavern wall.
Lyrelle smirked faintly but didn’t look up as she adjusted the sleeping bags. “It’s not about comfort—it’s about survival. These camps are hidden, warded, and safe. Places like this have kept my people alive for centuries.”
Cole nodded, leaning back against the cavern wall, starting to relax when Lyrelle’s voice cut through the stillness. “But your day isn’t over yet, Cole.”
He looked up, frowning slightly, as she reached into her bag of holding and pulled out a book—a thick, heavy tome. Without ceremony, she tossed it toward him, and he caught it awkwardly, the weight surprising him.
“Read that,” she said, settling back onto her sleeping bag. “It should be legible. For some reason I haven’t been able to figure out yet, you’ve been able to understand the common tongue here. That’s written in common tongue, so hopefully you can read it.”
Cole paused, turning the book over in his hands, its cover worn but the text surprisingly clear. He frowned, her words sparking a realization he hadn’t considered until now. “I haven’t even thought about that,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “It all just felt so natural... it never even occurred to me that I shouldn’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.”
Lyrelle tilted her head slightly, watching him with a curious expression as he continued. “Ya know, I haven’t had a panic attack since I’ve been here either... now that I think about it, I haven’t even seen my meds since before I passed out and you found me.”
Lyrelle frowned slightly, her curiosity deepening. “A panic... attack? What’s that?”
Cole leaned back further, resting the book on his lap as he glanced over at her. “It’s when... well, it’s like your brain decides something terrible is happening—even if it’s not—and your body reacts like you’re in danger. Your heart races, your chest tightens, you can’t breathe, and it feels like the walls are closing in on you. Sometimes it hits out of nowhere, sometimes it’s triggered by something, but it’s... overwhelming.”
Lyrelle’s expression softened, her sharp features tinged with concern. “That sounds... difficult.”
“It is,” Cole admitted, shrugging slightly. “Back home, I had meds to help manage it, but they weren’t a cure. When I first got here, I had a panic attack and took one of my pills. I even used this little mantra I have.” He paused, then added, “A mantra is something you say to calm yourself.”
Cole laughed lightly, shaking his head. “A friend of mine once told me he used, ‘Don’t chase the rabbit.’ It was a reference to something he watched. The idea was, humans can’t catch a rabbit, and following it down its hole just leads to a never-ending trail. It was his way of keeping his mind from spiraling.”
He glanced at the book in his hands, his voice softening. “But now... I don’t know. Maybe it’s this place. Or maybe I just haven’t had the time to worry about everything that’s happened yet.”
Lyrelle nodded slowly, her green eyes thoughtful. “Perhaps it’s something about this world. Magic often has effects we don’t fully understand, especially on those not native to it. Either way, if this helps you feel more at ease, it’s worth noting.”
Cole gave her a small smile. “Yeah. Worth noting.” He opened the book, his fingers running over the pages as he started to read, grateful for the distraction.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The rest of the night was spent with Lyrelle training Cole on what he was reading, ensuring he understood and retained the information. It didn’t take long for him to realize the book in his hands was a spellbook. The dense, complex text began to make sense under Lyrelle’s careful instruction, though the concept of magic still felt surreal to him.
At one point, Lyrelle leaned forward, pointing to a specific passage. “This is the spell for light,” she said, her tone steady and patient. “You’ll need to focus on using your internal mana to cast it. Everyone has mana—it’s the energy inside your body. Close your eyes and try to feel it. It should feel like... a light pool, or a well, deep inside of you. Once you find it, focus on drawing from it while thinking of the spell.”
Cole closed his eyes, doing as she instructed. He tried to focus, searching for this supposed “pool of mana” within him, but it felt elusive, like trying to grasp smoke. He muttered under his breath, frustrated, “A pool of mana... sure, easy.”
“Focus, Cole,” Lyrelle said firmly but without impatience. “It’s there. You just need to clear your mind and find it.”
He exhaled sharply and tried again, repeating the process over and over as Lyrelle guided him. Hours passed, and progress was slow. Every time he thought he’d found it, his concentration slipped, and the energy fizzled out before it could take form.
Finally, as the night wore on, something clicked. A faint warmth stirred within him, and as he focused, a small spark of light appeared in the air above his hand. It wasn’t much—no brighter or larger than a firefly back home—but it was there. His eyes widened as he stared at the tiny flicker, the soft glow illuminating his fingers.
As the light faded, Cole exhaled, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. “That… was harder than I thought.” He leaned back against the wall, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. After a moment of silence, he furrowed his brow and asked, “Wait… why didn’t I get a class? I mean, I did magic, right? Isn’t that supposed to mean something? How do these classes even work? It’s through experiences, isn’t it?”
Lyrelle chuckled softly, settling into her own spot across from him. “You’re not entirely wrong,” she began, her tone calm but with a hint of amusement. “Classes do reflect your experiences, but they’re more than that. You see, many people have the ability to learn simple magic, like the light spell you were just practicing. That doesn’t make them a mage.”
Cole tilted his head. “Why not? I mean, magic’s magic, right?”
Lyrelle shook her head gently. “It’s not that simple. Becoming a mage—or a warrior, or a swordsman, or anything else—takes more than just trying something once. It requires time, dedication, practice, and most importantly... intent.”
“Intent?” Cole asked, frowning slightly.
“Yes,” Lyrelle said, her green eyes locking onto his. “Classes are as much about who you are as they are about what you do. They reflect your purpose, your goals, and how you commit yourself to those pursuits. Casting a single spell doesn’t make you a mage, just like picking up a sword doesn’t make you a swordsman. You have to embrace it, make it part of who you are.”
She leaned forward slightly, her voice taking on a more instructive tone. “Magic is vast, with countless disciplines and branches. Some dedicate their entire lives to mastering a single path. To gain a class like Mage, you’d need to commit yourself to understanding magic deeply, practicing it. The same applies to any class. It will take time” Lyrelle replied. “But you did well. Now, you need to get your rest. We have much more ground to cover tomorrow.”
Cole nodded, setting the book aside and settling into his sleeping bag, his body aching from the day’s journey and his mind buzzing with the possibilities of what he’d just accomplished. As he drifted off, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Cole’s dreams dragged him back to a place he’d give anything to forget. He was in the driver’s-side passenger seat of the Humvee, the oppressive heat of the desert beating down on the vehicle. The low growl of the engine vibrated through his body, mixing with the distant hum of radio chatter. Sweat clung to his neck as he adjusted his grip on his rifle, his eyes scanning the road ahead.
He glanced over his shoulder to the back seat, where Sean was sitting on the driver’s-side rear. Sean was leaning back casually, one arm resting on the window frame, looking more relaxed than the situation warranted.
Cole turned back to the road, craning his neck slightly to get a better view. The air inside the Humvee felt heavy, the same way it always did on patrols—thick with tension and the unspoken fear of what might happen at any second. Finally, he twisted in his seat, looking back at Sean again.
“Hey, Sean,” Cole called. “Switch with me. My ass is numb! Let me sit in the back for a bit.”
Sean didn’t respond.
Cole frowned. “Sean? Did you hear me?”
And then, everything went silent. The steady hum of the engine disappeared, the faint crackle of the comms vanished. It was as if the world had been muted in an instant. Cole froze, his eyes darting to Sean.
Sean was already looking at him, his face calm but deeply unsettling. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, and spoke, his voice unnaturally clear in the sudden silence.
“You having fun?” Sean asked, his tone casual, as if they were back at base instead of in the middle of a war zone.
“What?” Cole blinked, thrown off by the strange question.
Sean’s expression didn’t change, but his tone became sharper. “I said, are you having fun? Playing with magic, meeting elves. Are you having fun, Cole?”
“Sean... I don’t—” Cole started, but the words caught in his throat.
Before he could finish, Sean’s face twisted with rage, his calm expression snapping into something terrifying. “Because we’re fucking dead, Cole!” Sean’s voice boomed, unnaturally loud, reverberating through the Humvee.
As he yelled, his face began to change. The skin on the lower half of his face started to blister and peel away, revealing charred muscle and bone. It spread upward along the right side of his face, leaving his cheek hollow and his eye glaring at Cole from an empty socket.
“We’re fucking dead!” Sean roared, his voice distorting and deepening, each word cutting into Cole like a knife. “And you lose your pain? You get a second chance?”
Suddenly, the Humvee vanished. The desert was gone. Cole found himself standing in an endless black void, with Sean’s burned, skeletal form staggering toward him. His movements were jerky and unnatural, his charred body cracking and twisting with every step.
“You should have been watching the road!” Sean growled, his voice now a guttural snarl. “You were supposed to look for IEDs! We died because of you!”
Sean’s skeletal jaw opened wide, his distorted voice echoing through the void as he struggled closer. Cole tried to move, to back away, but his body felt frozen, paralyzed by the weight of Sean’s words. All he could do was watch as Sean’s mangled, burning figure approached, the darkness pressing in around them.
Cole stumbled backward, his breath hitching as panic clawed at his chest. His vision blurred as tears began streaming down his face. “Sean, it’s not like that! They told me it was buried in the center of the road—there was no way for me to see it!”
Sean’s skeletal figure lurched closer, his burned body twitching with each step. His hollow, charred eyes bore into Cole, filled with fury. “How do you know that!? Did you see it, Cole!? Do you remember seeing it!?”
Cole shook his head frantically, his voice cracking. “No... no, I don’t.”
“Exactly!” Sean roared, his skeletal jaw stretching unnaturally wide as his voice echoed through the void. “Because you weren’t doing your job! You were looking at me! Too busy fucking around to keep your eyes on the road!”
Cole’s legs felt like jelly, and he staggered back farther, his hands trembling as he wiped at his face, though the tears wouldn’t stop. “No... no, that’s not true.”
“Yes!” Sean bellowed, his burned form convulsing as he stomped forward. His voice deepened into something monstrous. “You know why they told you it was buried there? Why they lied to you? To keep you from feeling guilty about getting your team killed!”
Cole froze, his mind spiraling as Sean’s skeletal jaw stretched grotesquely wide, his voice a distorted growl. Bits of his charred flesh and tattered clothing dropped to the ground with every jerking step he took.
“They spared you the truth, Cole! But you know the truth. You let us die!” Sean’s voice thundered, filling the black void, pressing in on Cole until he could barely breathe.
Cole woke with a start, gasping for breath, his chest heaving as though he’d just run miles. Tears streamed down his face, his body trembling uncontrollably. The images of Sean’s burned, skeletal form loomed fresh in his mind, his distorted voice still echoing in his ears.
“Cole!”
Lyrelle’s voice cut through the fog, and he realized she was kneeling over him, her hands hovering near his shoulders, unsure whether to touch him.
Cole jerked back instinctively, his eyes wide with terror. “No!” he screamed, his voice hoarse and raw. His movements were frantic, his mind still trapped somewhere between the nightmare and reality.
“Cole, it’s me,” Lyrelle said softly, her voice steady but tinged with concern. She stayed in place, giving him space, her hands still raised in a nonthreatening gesture.
Cole blinked rapidly, wiping at the tears on his face with the back of his hand, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. The world around him began to settle, the cool light of the cavern bringing him back to the present. He looked up at Lyrelle, her green eyes steady as they watched him, her expression one of quiet concern.
“Lyrelle,” he whispered, his voice cracking as he said her name, grounding himself in the moment.
Slowly, she moved closer, her motions deliberate, giving him time to adjust. She knelt back down beside him, close enough to offer comfort but not so close as to crowd him.
“What happened?” she asked gently, her voice barely above a whisper.
Cole swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to find the words. He rubbed his face, the lingering fear and shame making him want to look away, but Lyrelle’s steady presence kept him anchored. “A nightmare,” he finally admitted, his voice breaking. “A bad one.”
She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his, her expression filled with quiet understanding. “You’re safe now,” she said softly. “Whatever it was... it’s over.”
The calm certainty in her tone was like a lifeline, and though the nightmare still clung to him, he let himself lean into the reality of her words. “Thanks,” he whispered, his hands finally stilling as his breathing began to slow.
Lyrelle didn’t press him for more, her silence offering him the space he needed. She simply stayed close, a quiet reassurance in the dim glow of the cavern.
Cole wiped at his face again, but the tears weren’t stopping as quickly as he’d hoped. His eyes still watered, the edges red and swollen from the nightmare’s hold on him. His hands trembled slightly as he rubbed them together, as if trying to smooth away the lingering shakes. He turned his gaze down to the ground, avoiding Lyrelle’s watchful eyes, his jaw tightening.
Lyrelle watched him in silence for a moment, her expression softening further. Without saying a word, she shifted closer and sat beside him, her movements slow and deliberate. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the gesture firm yet gentle, anchoring him in the moment.
Cole stiffened at first, startled by the sudden closeness, but the warmth of her presence was grounding. He exhaled shakily, the tension in his body slowly beginning to ebb away. Lyrelle didn’t say anything more, her silence speaking volumes. She just stayed there, her arm around him, offering a steady presence, comfort.
Cole’s breathing started to even out, though his hands still trembled faintly. He wiped at his face again, embarrassed by the lingering wetness in his eyes. Finally, he glanced sideways at Lyrelle, her arm still draped around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry for waking you,” he said quietly, his voice rough and unsteady. “Sometimes… sometimes these nightmares just… come out of nowhere.”
Lyrelle tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening as she leaned closer. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said gently, her voice steady and soothing. Then, to his surprise, she rested her head lightly against his, her warmth a quiet comfort. “Even the strongest of us can’t outrun our minds. You’re not alone in that.”
Her closeness grounded him further, the steady weight of her body leaning against his. The floral scent of her hair, something both familiar and uniquely her, filled his senses, calming the chaos in his mind. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing on her presence rather than the nightmare that had gripped him. The trembling in his hands finally began to subside.
“Was it about your team?” she asked softly after a moment.
Cole hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly. He nodded, his voice low and strained. “Yeah… I…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words. “I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”
Lyrelle didn’t press him, her head still resting against his. “That’s okay,” she said quietly, the words gentle and without judgment. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen.”
Her simple reassurance left him feeling steadier, the nightmare’s grip loosening just a little more. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel completely alone in facing it.
They sat like that for a long while, neither speaking. Lyrelle didn’t move, her head still resting gently against his, her arm steady around his shoulders. Cole focused on the sound of her breathing, slow and even, trying to match it with his own. The fear and tension from the nightmare still lingered in the corners of his mind, but her presence kept it at bay.
He fought to stay awake, his eyes darting to the glowing moss on the cavern walls or the faint flicker of shadows in the dim light. The idea of falling back into that nightmare, of seeing Sean again in that terrible state, sent a chill through him. But the warmth of Lyrelle against his side, the floral and utterly unique scent of her hair somehow still fresh and soothing after the long day of travel, began to chip away at his resolve to stay alert.
He blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy. He tried to shift slightly to keep himself awake, but Lyrelle only murmured something soft in her half-sleep, her weight leaning more into him.
The fight left him. The comfort of her proximity, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing, and the calming fragrance of her hair lulled him further. His shoulders relaxed, his hands stilled, and his mind grew quiet.
Eventually, despite his lingering fear, Cole couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He exhaled deeply, the tension melting from his body as sleep finally took him again, this time without resistance. With Lyrelle resting peacefully against him, he drifted into a dreamless, undisturbed sleep.
Cole woke to the faint glow of the cavern and a warmth pressed against his side. Blinking groggily, he looked down and froze. Lyrelle was still leaning against him, her head resting lightly on his shoulder, her arm draped over his chest. For a moment, he didn’t move, unsure of what to do. Her hair brushed against his chin, still carrying that faint floral scent, and he swallowed hard.
As if sensing his stirring, Lyrelle’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times, lifting her head slowly. When she realized how close they were, her expression shifted to mild surprise before settling into her usual composed demeanor.
Cole rubbed the back of his neck, his voice hesitant. “Uh, sorry… about waking you last night. And… you know, this.” He gestured vaguely at their position, feeling his cheeks heat up.
Lyrelle sat up fully, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “It’s nothing,” she said politely, her tone calm but slightly guarded. “You needed the rest. I didn’t mind.”
Cole nodded, unsure how to respond. They both moved quickly after that, gathering their belongings in silence. Lyrelle carefully tucked her bedroll away into her bag of holding, while Cole followed her lead, focusing on getting ready to leave and avoiding the awkward tension hanging in the air.
When they were packed, Lyrelle stood and gestured toward the cavern’s exit. “Let’s go. We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
Cole nodded again, adjusting his gear and following her out of the hidden camp.
The forest was quiet, the early morning light filtering through the dense canopy above. The trail ahead of them was faint, more an overgrown game trail than a proper path, and Cole found himself distracted as they walked. His mind kept circling back to the nightmare from the night before.
Sean’s burned face, the hollow sockets of his eyes, the way his voice had distorted with anger—it all felt so real. Too real. Cole’s chest tightened as he replayed the accusations over and over in his head.
"You were supposed to look for IEDs! We died because of you!"
His hands clenched unconsciously, the weight of guilt pressing down on him like a physical force. His surroundings blurred, the sounds of the forest fading into the background as he focused inward, lost in the memory.
“Cole,” Lyrelle’s voice broke through his thoughts, sharp but not unkind.
He startled slightly, blinking and realizing she’d stopped ahead of him, looking back over her shoulder. Her green eyes were steady, her expression neutral but observant.
“You’re distracted,” she said plainly. “What’s wrong?”
Cole hesitated, shaking his head quickly. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”
Lyrelle didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press further. “Try to stay focused,” she said, her tone softening just a little. “We’re out of the safe territory now. Distractions can be dangerous.”
“Right,” Cole said, nodding, though his voice lacked conviction. He fell into step behind her, but the images of the nightmare lingered, clawing at the edges of his mind.
Cole did his best to put the thoughts of last night behind him, but something still clawed at the back of his mind, an unwelcome weight he couldn’t quite shake. He told himself to focus, to stay alert, and tried to keep his situational awareness sharp as he followed Lyrelle through the dense forest.
But it wasn’t easy. His legs felt heavier with every step, and despite using another dose of the stamina potion that morning, he was struggling to keep up. His breathing was labored, his body aching in ways that felt more like fatigue than exertion.
“Focus, Cole,” he muttered under his breath, wiping sweat from his brow. He forced himself to glance around, scanning the trail and the woods beyond for anything unusual. But even that small effort felt like it was draining him further.
Ahead of him, Lyrelle moved with her usual fluid grace, barely making a sound as she weaved through the underbrush. Cole clenched his teeth, determined not to fall too far behind, but every step felt like a battle.
It wasn’t even noon yet, and the day was already stretching out like an endless trial. He felt physically and mentally exhausted, his thoughts drifting back to Sean and the accusations from his nightmare. No matter how hard he tried to focus, the echoes of that dream kept pulling at him, dragging him down.
It was going to be a long day.
When they stopped for a quick bite of lunch, Cole slumped against a tree, utterly exhausted. His body felt like it had been through a full day’s march, not just a morning’s hike. And honestly, he was pissed. This was ridiculous—sure, he was out of shape, but to this extent? To be unable to keep up with Lyrelle at all? It didn’t make sense.
“What the hell is going on with me today?” he muttered under his breath, glaring down at his hands as if they held the answers.
Across from him, Lyrelle was watching him carefully. Her sharp green eyes flicked to him between bites of her food, concern etched subtly into her otherwise calm expression. She wasn’t saying anything, but the way she kept looking at him made it clear she was wondering the same thing.
Cole sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Lyrelle,” he said finally, his voice strained. “I must be tired from last night still… I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
Lyrelle set her food down, leaning forward slightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Cole shook his head, looking away toward the trees. “No… not yet.”
She didn’t push him, simply nodding as she leaned back and resumed her meal, though her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. Cole tried to shake the frustration as he forced himself to eat.
Lyrelle studied him for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “We can try to slow our pace slightly,” she said finally, her tone even but firm. “But we have to reach the next camp by nightfall. It’s the only safe place to stop in this area.”
Cole nodded, still catching his breath. “Understood,” he muttered, though the idea of walking for hours more felt like an insurmountable task.
She stood gracefully, brushing herself off. “Good. Let’s move.”
As they resumed their journey, Lyrelle’s steps were a fraction slower than before, her pace adjusted to something more manageable. Cole fell in behind her, grateful for the small concession but still fighting the nagging exhaustion that weighed him down.
As the day dragged on, Cole’s exhaustion deepened to the point where every step felt like a monumental effort. His body was drenched in sweat, his muscles screamed in protest, and his breath came in shallow gasps. It wasn’t just physical fatigue—his mind felt heavy, clouded by an oppressive weight he couldn’t shake. The forest seemed to press in closer with each passing hour, the once-lush greenery now suffocating.
Ahead of him, Lyrelle moved with practiced ease, her strides fluid and confident. She glanced back at him now and then, her eyes sharp with silent questions, but she said nothing. Cole clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep pace. He didn’t want to give her any more reason to slow down for him.
The trail narrowed as they moved deeper into the forest, the canopy above blocking out much of the light. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, and the air seemed colder, heavier. Cole’s vision blurred as his gaze drifted, his focus slipping from the trail in front of him. He wiped at his face with the back of his hand, trying to snap himself out of it.
Out of the corner of his eye, something moved.
Sean.
Cole froze mid-step, his heart lurching. He whipped his head to the side, but there was nothing there. Just trees and shadows swaying in the faint breeze.
He shook his head and exhaled sharply, muttering to himself, “Get a grip, Cole. You’re just tired.” He pressed on, refusing to let his mind wander again.
But the oppressive weight didn’t lift. The further they walked, the more the forest seemed to change. The shadows grew darker, thicker, and the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze was now accompanied by something else—a faint, almost imperceptible whisper.
Cole glanced around nervously, his hand brushing against the hilt of his boot dagger. The whispers didn’t sound like words, just an unsettling murmur, like a dozen voices speaking at once just out of earshot. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep moving.
“Focus,” he whispered to himself, trying to drown out the whispers. “Just focus.”
Hours passed.
The forest only seemed to grow more oppressive as they moved. The trail was barely visible now, overgrown and winding unpredictably. The air was thick, suffused with a strange stillness that set Cole’s nerves on edge.
He was beginning to lag farther behind Lyrelle, his legs dragging with every step. The stamina potion he’d taken earlier felt like it had worn off entirely, his body aching as if he hadn’t slept in days. Lyrelle slowed her pace slightly, glancing back at him again, her expression unreadable.
“Cole,” she called softly, “are you keeping up?”
“Yeah,” he grunted, though the sound of his own voice felt distant, detached. “I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t fine. Something was wrong, and he could feel it crawling at the edges of his mind.
Then, just as the trail curved sharply around a cluster of dense trees, he saw them.
His team.
Sean stood first, right on the edge of the trail, his burned and skeletal form impossible to mistake. His hollow eyes bored into Cole, unblinking and filled with accusation. Behind him were Kai and Mike, their bodies twisted and broken in ways that made Cole’s stomach churn. One was missing half his face, the other’s limbs bent at unnatural angles as if frozen in the moment of their deaths.
Cole’s breath hitched, his body frozen in place. It wasn’t like before—this wasn’t just a fleeting shadow or a trick of the light. They were there, clear as day, staring directly at him.
His heart pounded in his chest, his throat dry. He wanted to speak, to say something, but no words came out.
“Cole,” Lyrelle’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and steady.
He blinked, and they were gone.
The trail was empty again, the forest eerily quiet. He looked around frantically, his pulse still racing, but there was no sign of them.
“Cole,” Lyrelle said again, her tone firmer now. She had stopped ahead of him, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger as she looked back at him with a mix of concern and suspicion. “What is it?”
“I…” He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look away. “I’m fine,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely convincing even to himself.
Lyrelle didn’t look convinced, her eyes narrowing slightly. But after a moment, she turned back to the trail. “Stay focused,” she said. “We’re not out of danger yet.”
Cole nodded, forcing his legs to move again. But with every step, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were still watching him—just out of sight, waiting for him to look again.
The day seemed to stretch endlessly, every step forward feeling heavier than the last. Cole’s legs felt like lead, his boots dragging against the uneven trail. The oppressive weight in his chest grew with each hour, a gnawing discomfort that wouldn’t leave him.
Lyrelle glanced back at him again, her calm demeanor steady as ever. “We’re nearly there,” she said, her voice even and encouraging. “Just a little further.”
Cole nodded, too tired to respond. But as the minutes passed, that “little further” felt like a cruel joke. The forest stretched on endlessly, the trail winding and twisting without end. Time seemed to slow, every breath coming harder as he trudged forward.
The frustration bubbled up in him, irrational and sharp. How long had she said it would be? An hour? Two? It felt like an eternity, and the forest wasn’t helping. The trees loomed closer, their shadows stretching unnaturally across the path, and the quiet hum of the woods felt more like a suffocating silence.
“Get a grip,” he muttered under his breath, trying to shake the feeling off.
And then he saw him.
At first, it was just a shadow moving in the distance, weaving between the trees. Cole blinked, hoping it would disappear like before. But it didn’t. The shadow resolved into a figure—Sean.
He wasn’t just standing there this time. Sean’s burned, skeletal form was twitching as he stepped through the forest, his head jerking unnaturally with each movement. His hollow eyes locked onto Cole, even from a distance.
“Your fault!” Sean’s voice rang out, distorted and full of rage, reverberating through the trees.
Cole froze in place, his breath caught in his throat. He clenched his fists, his heart pounding. “No,” he whispered to himself. “It’s not real. He’s not real.”
Sean’s form lurched closer, his movements erratic and jerky. His charred skin peeled away with each step, his voice growing louder. “Your fault! You killed us!”
Cole squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus on the trail, on the rhythmic crunch of his boots against the dirt. “Ignore it,” he muttered. “Keep going.”
But as he pushed forward, the whispers started. Low and insidious, they seemed to seep into his mind, twisting his thoughts. The edges of his vision blurred, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if the trees around him were real—or if anything was real.
What if I’m not even here? he thought, panic starting to creep in. What if none of this is real? What if Lyrelle isn’t real?
He glanced ahead at her, watching her graceful movements as she navigated the trail with ease. She was real, wasn’t she? She had to be. But the doubt clawed at him, relentless and unyielding.
“Cole,” Lyrelle called back, her voice sharp enough to pierce through the haze in his mind.
He blinked, realizing he’d stopped walking entirely. She was standing a few steps ahead, her green eyes narrowed in concern.
“You need to keep moving,” she said firmly.
Cole nodded stiffly, forcing his legs to move again. But as he trudged forward, the shadows in the forest seemed darker, the whispers louder, and Sean’s charred form still lingered in the edges of his vision, just out of reach.
Cole forced one foot in front of the other, his breaths shallow and uneven. The air felt heavier with each step, like he was wading through a swamp. His muscles screamed for rest, and his mind felt like it was fraying at the edges. He clenched his teeth, determined to push forward, but the doubt and frustration clawed at him like a living thing.
“You’re doing well,” Lyrelle said, glancing back at him. Her tone was calm, encouraging. “We’re nearly there.”
Cole wanted to believe her, but the words rang hollow. She’d said that hours ago—or what felt like hours ago. The forest stretched endlessly ahead of them, the trail winding through shadows that seemed to grow darker and more oppressive with every step.
“How much longer?” he finally growled, his voice rough with exhaustion.
“Not far,” she said without missing a beat.
Cole let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You keep saying that.”
Lyrelle glanced back again, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she didn’t respond. She turned back to the trail, her strides as fluid and graceful as ever.
Cole stared at her back, a flare of anger rising in him. At her calmness, at her composure, at how easily she seemed to navigate this endless, suffocating forest. Meanwhile, he felt like he was falling apart, his body and mind betraying him at every turn.
He clenched his fists, the nails biting into his palms. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought bitterly. I’m stronger than this. I’ve been through worse than this. So why can’t I keep up?
The whispers crept back into his mind, low and insidious. He thought he heard his name, faint and distant, but when he looked around, the forest was silent.
He shook his head, trying to push the thought away. “It’s not real,” he muttered under his breath. “None of this is real.”
But the doubt was there, growing like a weed. His mind felt broken, splintering under the weight of exhaustion and the eerie stillness of the forest. What if it isn’t real? What if this whole thing is just my mind playing tricks on me? What if I didn’t survive at all?
He stumbled on a root, barely catching himself. His frustration boiled over, directed at everything—at the unrelenting forest, at his broken mind, at himself.
“Goddamn it!” he hissed, slamming his fist against a nearby tree. His knuckles throbbed with pain, but he didn’t care. He leaned against the tree for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself.
“Cole,” Lyrelle’s voice broke through his haze again, this time sharper. She had stopped a few paces ahead, her expression unreadable but firm.
He pushed off the tree, his glare flicking toward her. “I’m fine,” he snapped, though his voice betrayed him.
Lyrelle raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for him to fall back into step.
As he moved forward again, anger still simmering in his chest, he caught another glimpse of Sean. This time, his burned, twitching form was closer, stepping through the trees toward him. Cole didn’t stop, didn’t slow down.
“You’re not real,” he muttered through gritted teeth. But the sight of Sean’s charred face, the twisted accusations in his hollow eyes, felt too vivid to ignore.
“You’re weak,” a voice whispered, so faint it felt like it was coming from inside his head.
Cole clenched his fists tighter, forcing his eyes forward, but his thoughts spiraled. What if it’s all fake? What if this isn’t even real? He glanced briefly at Lyrelle again, her graceful movements ahead of him. She was real, wasn’t she? She had to be. But the doubt clawed at him, relentless.
He shook his head violently, trying to clear it, but the whispers didn’t stop. The forest didn’t end. His anger flared again, sharp and raw, as he trudged forward, hating himself, his broken mind, and the endless, godforsaken forest.
They finally reached another safe camp, the faint glow of wards etched into the rock walls marking the entrance. Cole stumbled through the opening, his exhaustion overtaking him the moment his boots crossed the threshold. His legs buckled, and he crumpled forward without a word.
Lyrelle’s sharp instincts kicked in, and she rushed to his side, catching him just in time to slide her hand between his head and the cold stone ground. “Damn it, Cole,” she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with worry.
She crouched beside him for a moment, assessing his condition. His breathing was shallow but steady, his face pale and drenched with sweat. His armor, though light, seemed to weigh on him like a mountain.
With quick, practiced movements, Lyrelle began stripping off his armor, undoing buckles and straps with ease. She worked methodically, removing his chest piece, bracers, and greaves, setting each piece aside with care. When she was finished, she hooked her arms under his shoulders and pulled him deeper into the cave.
The warded magic within the cave felt warm and safe, a stark contrast to the suffocating weight of the forest outside. She dragged him a few feet further from the entrance, where the wards were strongest, and laid him down on the softest patch of ground she could find.
Lyrelle sat back on her heels, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she looked at him. His exhaustion was undeniable—his body limp and his face slack with fatigue. She sighed softly, her green eyes flicking toward the cave’s entrance, as though checking for any sign of pursuit. Satisfied they were alone, she turned her attention back to him.
“Rest,” she said softly, though she knew he was already too far gone to hear her. She pulled a thin blanket from her bag of holding and draped it over him, ensuring he was as comfortable as possible.
Then, with a final glance toward the dark forest beyond, she settled down nearby, her weapons within reach, ready to keep watch for the night.
Cole opened his eyes, the world around him shrouded in blackness. For a moment, he felt disoriented, unsure of where he was, but the weight against his shoulder was familiar. Lyrelle. She was leaning against him again, like the night before, her presence calming the storm in his chest.
He exhaled slowly, the tension melting from his body. There was comfort in her being close, her steady warmth against his side. For the first time in what felt like days, his mind started to relax.
But then, something shifted.
She stirred, lifting her head from his shoulder. The movement was too fast, unnaturally quick, like a blur that froze his breath in his throat.
“Lyrelle?” he whispered, his voice trembling.
She looked up at him, and his heart dropped. Her face was wrong.
Her eyes were gone, black, gaping sockets staring back at him, blood streaming in thick rivulets down her cheeks, pooling along her jawline. The corners of her mouth curled into a grotesque, twisted smile, her lips cracked and stretched impossibly wide.
“Your fault,” she rasped, her voice a broken whisper, layered with an unnatural distortion.
Cole’s breath caught, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He shoved himself backward, scrambling away from her, his hands scraping against the cold stone floor. “No! No, no, no!” he screamed, his voice raw with panic.
Lyrelle tilted her head, her neck cracking unnaturally as she crawled toward him, her movements jerky and inhuman. “You did this,” the voice hissed, reverberating like it came from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
Cole kept crawling, his back hitting the rough wall of the cave. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, his chest heaving as his mind screamed at him to wake up, to escape, to do anything. “This isn’t real!” he yelled, his voice cracking. “You’re not real!”
Lyrelle stopped, crouching in the darkness, her bloodied sockets locking onto him. Then, with a sickening laugh, it began to dissolve into smoke, tendrils of black mist curling and twisting into the shadows of the cave.
They weren’t still.
“No... no, no, no!” he stammered, scrambling backward, his back pressing hard against the unyielding stone wall. The swirling darkness moved with him, tendrils creeping closer, twisting and curling as though alive. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out everything but the sound of his own ragged breathing.
From the churning darkness, a figure began to take shape.
“Sean?” Cole whispered, his voice barely audible, pleadingly.
Sean stepped forward, his movements jerky, his charred and skeletal form illuminated by an otherworldly glow. His face, half flesh, half exposed bone, turned toward Cole, his hollow eyes seething with rage.
“We won’t let you get away!” Sean’s voice was a distorted roar, reverberating through the cave like thunder. Flames erupted across his body, licking up his arms and spreading along his twisted form. The fire didn’t consume him—instead, it seemed to fuel him, burning brighter as he stepped closer.
“You don’t deserve a second chance!” Sean bellowed, his voice twisting and deepening as he advanced. “You will pay for what you’ve done!”
Cole’s entire body shook as he tried to push himself further into the wall, his mind screaming for him to move, to fight, to do something. But the flames danced closer, the oppressive heat searing his skin.
“Sean, stop!” Cole yelled, his voice breaking. “It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t—”
Sean’s burned face twisted into a sneer, his skeletal jaw stretching unnaturally wide. “LIAR!” he screamed, the fire flaring with his words.
The shadows coiled tighter around Cole, pulling at him, suffocating him with their sheer weight. He clawed at the stone floor, his breath coming in frantic gasps. “Get out of my head!” he screamed, his voice raw with desperation.
But Sean kept coming, his flaming figure filling Cole’s vision, the heat unbearable, the words cutting deeper than the flames ever could.
“You were supposed to save us!” Sean roared, his voice a cacophony of anger and anguish. “You failed!”
Cole shut his eyes, his hands clutching at his head as the fire and shadows closed in, his mind spiraling into chaos. “This isn’t real!” he shouted again, tears streaming down his face. “It’s not real!”
But the flames, the shadows, and Sean’s voice refused to relent. The guilt, the pain—it all felt so real. Too real.
One moment, Cole was face-to-face with a monster, the heat of Sean’s flames searing his skin, the shadows closing in around him. The next, his eyes snapped open to Lyrelle’s voice cutting through the haze, sharp and insistent.
“Cole! Wake up!” she yelled, her voice laced with panic.
Her hand was raised, poised for another slap, her expression fierce and desperate.
Cole scrambled away from her, his breathing ragged. “You’re not real!” he screamed, his voice breaking. “None of this is real!”
Lyrelle froze, her hand lowering slightly as she stared at him, concern etched deep into her features.
Cole covered his face with his hands, his voice trembling as he muttered, “This isn’t real. None of this is real. It can’t be real.”
Lyrelle’s sharp gaze softened as she slowly crawled toward him, her movements deliberate and calm. Her voice was low and soothing, steady like the hum of the forest around them.
“Cole,” she said gently, “you’re safe. You’re here with me. Breathe. Just breathe.”
She reached out, her hands brushing against his trembling ones. Slowly, she pulled his hands away from his face, revealing tear-streaked cheeks and eyes clouded with anguish. He didn’t resist, his arms slack as he stared at her with a hollow, broken expression.
“This can’t be real,” he muttered again, his voice barely above a whisper. “None of this can be real. I’ve... I’ve had nightmares, but it’s never been this bad. This... this can’t be right. I—”
Before he could spiral further, Lyrelle leaned forward and kissed him.
Cole’s mind went blank. The chaos, the fear, the voices—they fled in an instant, replaced by the warmth of her lips and the grounding reality of her presence. For the first time in what felt like days, he wasn’t lost in his mind. He was here.
He exhaled sharply, the tension melting from his body as he grabbed her, pulling her close. His arms wrapped around her tightly, his lips pressing back against hers as if clinging to her was the only thing anchoring him.
Finally, Lyrelle pulled away, her forehead resting against his as she looked down at him, her green eyes searching his. “You have to tell me what’s going on, Cole,” she said softly but firmly. “I want to help you, but I need to know what’s happening. Please.”
Cole’s hands trembled as he tried to hold on to the fleeting sense of calm the kiss had brought him. But as Lyrelle’s steady gaze held his, the dam broke. Tears spilled freely down his face, his voice shaking as he finally began to speak.
“It started last night,” he whispered, his breath hitching between words. “The nightmare... it wasn’t like the others. It was Sean, Lyrelle. He was there, accusing me, screaming at me. His face—” Cole broke off, his voice cracking. He buried his head in his hands for a moment before forcing himself to continue. “It was burned, skeletal, like he’d crawled out of hell just to find me. He said it was my fault. That I killed them.”
Lyrelle didn’t say a word, letting him speak at his own pace, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Her steady presence was the only thing tethering him to reality, but even as she focused on him, her sharp mind worked silently. She had seen madness before—warriors broken by trauma—but there was something different about this. Something darker.
“And then, today... I saw him,” Cole said, his voice rising with panic. “In the forest. First, just a glimpse, like a shadow out of the corner of my eye. But then it got worse. I saw all three of them—Sean, Kai, and Mike—standing on the side of the trail. They were... mangled. Broken. Just staring at me like I was some kind of monster. And Sean... he kept screaming at me, ‘Your fault!’”
Lyrelle’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression calm but her thoughts racing. She glanced briefly toward the shadows of the cave, her instincts on high alert. The forest had felt wrong all day—the unnatural stillness, the oppressive weight in the air. She had chalked it up to the dangers of being outside the wards, but now she wasn’t so sure. Something was targeting Cole, and it was feeding off him.
Cole’s fists clenched, his knuckles white. “I tried to ignore it, Lyrelle. I really did. I told myself it wasn’t real. But the whispers—they wouldn’t stop. And then, back there in the cave... Sean came out of the shadows. He was on fire, on fire, and he said I didn’t deserve to live. That I didn’t deserve a second chance.”
His breath hitched again, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. “I... I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s like my mind is unraveling. I don’t know what’s real anymore. I don’t even know if you’re real. What if I’m just... stuck in some nightmare? What if I’m still back there in that Humvee, dying with them, and this is all just my brain just shutting down?”
Lyrelle’s grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, her voice calm but firm. “Cole,” she said, her green eyes boring into his. “You’re not in that Humvee. You’re not dying. You’re here. With me. I promise you, this is real.”
She leaned in closer, her expression steady and grounding, but her mind churned. The signs were unmistakable now—this wasn’t just a man wrestling with his guilt. Something malicious was preying on him, amplifying his worst fears and memories. Her people told stories of such creatures, beings that fed on emotions and warped reality. A Memory Leech, perhaps, or something even darker. The question now wasn’t if something was after him but why.
Cole let out a shaky breath, his tears still falling. “How do you know? How can you be sure?” His voice was quiet, almost pleading, as if her answer was the only thing keeping him from breaking entirely.
Lyrelle softened her tone, her voice almost a whisper. “Because I can feel your pain, Cole. I see it in your eyes. And whatever is happening, whatever is doing this to you, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone. Not anymore.”
Cole stared at her, his chest still tight with emotion, but her words seemed to pierce through the haze. The weight in his chest eased slightly, and for the first time all day, he felt like he could breathe again.
She watched him carefully, the tension in his face beginning to ebb, and she allowed herself the faintest flicker of relief. But she didn’t let her guard down. The danger wasn’t over. The way his nightmares had escalated, the exhaustion that drained him despite the stamina potions—it all pointed to something deliberate, a predator stalking its prey.
Lyrelle shifted slightly, her hand still on his shoulder, her expression soft but her mind already making plans. They needed to move quickly and carefully. If it was a Memory Leech, it wouldn’t stop until it had drained Cole completely. She couldn’t let that happen.
“I’ll protect you,” she said softly, her tone a mix of reassurance and determination. “But you have to trust me, Cole. Whatever this is, we’ll get through it together.”
Cole nodded, the faintest trace of hope flickering in his eyes. He didn’t know how much he believed her, but right now, her presence was the only thing keeping him from spiraling again.
As Lyrelle settled beside him, her thoughts turned to the forest beyond the wards. Whatever was out there, she was going to make it pay.
Cole bolted upright, his chest heaving as the nightmare tore through him. He wasn’t in the cave anymore—not in his mind. He was back in the Humvee, the rattling vibration of the vehicle shaking his bones. The hot desert sun blazed through the windshield, making the air inside stifling, suffocating.
He looked down to yell at Sean to switch with him, but Sean wasn’t there. The seat was empty, the convoy around them gone. The hum of the Humvee faded into silence, replaced by an eerie stillness.
“Sean?” Cole called, his voice cracking.
The door creaked open beside him, impossibly slow, the sound grating against his ears. A skeletal hand, blackened and charred, gripped the edge of the door, and Sean’s disfigured face emerged, his hollow eyes burning with accusation.
“You having fun?” Sean asked, his voice distorted, wrong.
“What?” Cole whispered, his body frozen in place.
“Are you having fun?” Sean hissed, his voice rising with venom. “Playing with magic, meeting elves. Are you enjoying yourself?”
Cole’s heart pounded as he shook his head. “Sean, I—”
“Because we’re DEAD, Cole!” Sean roared, his voice echoing unnaturally. His jaw stretched open wider than humanly possible, the charred flesh peeling away to reveal bone and teeth. “Because of YOU!”
The Humvee exploded in a flash of light and heat, the force throwing Cole into a dark void. He tumbled through nothingness, his screams swallowed by the silence. When he landed, it wasn’t on solid ground—it was on bodies.
He looked down, his hands pressing into Kai’s broken form. His squad leader’s lifeless eyes stared up at him, blood pooling beneath his head.
Cole scrambled back, but his hand hit something else—Mike’s twisted body, his arms bent at impossible angles.
“No, no, no!” Cole yelled, scrambling to his feet, but they were everywhere. Sean, Kai, Mike—their broken forms surrounded him, their voices rising in a cacophony of screams.
“Your fault!”
“You killed us!”
“You should have been watching the road!”
Cole covered his ears, but the screams only grew louder. The ground beneath him shifted, the bodies pulling him down, their hands grabbing at his legs, their burned and skeletal faces glaring up at him.
“You don’t deserve a second chance!” Sean’s voice cut through the others, impossibly loud, impossibly close.
Cole looked up to see Sean standing above him, flames consuming his body. His skin melted and dripped away, his skeletal frame exposed as he reached for Cole with burning hands.
“You will pay!” Sean screamed, lunging at him, his fiery grip searing into Cole’s chest.
Cole woke with a start, gasping for breath as the nightmare released him, but the terror didn’t fade. His mind still reeled, his body drenched in sweat.
He bolted to his feet, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, and stumbled toward the cave’s exit. The oppressive weight in his chest pushed him forward, his thoughts racing. I have to get out. I have to get out.
Lyrelle’s voice called after him, sharp and commanding. “Cole! Stop! Don’t leave the wards!”
But he couldn’t hear her over the pounding of his heart. He sprinted out of the cave, the cool night air hitting him like a slap, but it didn’t slow him. The forest loomed around him, the shadows darker than they had any right to be.
He pushed forward, his legs burning, his lungs on fire. He didn’t know where he was going—he just had to get away. Away from the nightmare, away from the guilt clawing at his mind.
“Cole!” Lyrelle’s voice cut through the night, closer now.
And then, suddenly, his body jerked to a stop.
It was so sudden that he nearly fell forward, but something held him in place, like he’d hit an invisible wall. His arms flailed as he staggered, and pain erupted down his back.
Three sharp lines of blood seeped through his clothing, cutting through his flesh as if by unseen claws. The crimson streaks dripped down his sides, the warm liquid soaking his shirt.
Lyrelle was closing in, her breath catching as she saw the blood blooming across his back. “Cole!” she shouted, urgency lacing her tone.
Cole’s hand instinctively went to his side, pulling free the elven dagger Lyrelle had shown him how to use. His vision swam, but he could feel something in front of him. He swung the blade in a desperate arc, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
The blade connected with something.
An ear-piercing scream erupted from the forest, inhuman and agonized, reverberating through the trees and rattling the ground beneath them. Lyrelle froze for a split second, her hand flying to the hilt of her weapon as her senses went on high alert.
The scream didn’t fade—it deepened, taking on a guttural, otherworldly tone. The shadows in the forest shifted unnaturally, pooling together and rising like smoke given shape. Slowly, a creature began to materialize from the darkness, its form emerging in jagged, unsettling movements.
The Memory Leech stood taller than Lyrelle, its emaciated frame hunched under its own grotesque weight. Its body was an eerie blend of translucent and solid, as though it existed halfway between this world and another. Its skin was ashen, stretched tightly over spindly bones that jutted out at unnatural angles, and it pulsed faintly with a sickly, greenish glow. Veins of black ichor crawled just beneath the surface, spreading like corrupted roots.
Its face was a mockery of humanity, its features gaunt and elongated. Hollow, glowing eyes burned with a hateful, malevolent light, and its mouth was a gaping void lined with jagged teeth, dripping with black fluid that hissed as it hit the ground. The creature’s long, clawed fingers flexed as it swiped aimlessly, the tips scraping against the dirt with an unnatural sound that sent shivers down Lyrelle’s spine.
The Memory Leech’s neck twisted sharply, revealing the elven blade lodged deep within its flesh. It reached for the blade with its taloned hands, the claws trembling as it tried to grip the weapon. Smoke hissed from where the blade pierced its translucent skin, and the creature let out another earsplitting wail.
But no matter how it twisted its spindly hands, the Memory Leech couldn’t touch the weapon. The elven blade burned it, repelling its claws as though the weapon itself rejected the creature’s very essence. The harder it tried to grab the blade, the more the glowing veins around the wound spread, consuming its body in flashes of fiery green light.
The Memory Leech shrieked as it lunged again, its jagged claws raking through the air toward Lyrelle. She was a blur of motion, her elven reflexes keeping her just out of its reach, but the creature's erratic movements made it impossible to predict. She ducked under one strike and spun away from another, but the relentless assault forced her to stay on the defensive.
“Evasion Roll!” Lyrelle called sharply, rolling to the side as a claw smashed into the ground where she had stood moments before. Dust and debris scattered, and she came up on her feet, daggers ready.
Her movements were precise, calculated, but the Memory Leech’s sheer size and aggression kept her from gaining an advantage. She parried a swipe with her dagger, the blade glowing faintly as it connected with the creature’s claw, sending a burst of sparks into the air. The Leech recoiled for a moment, but its hollow eyes burned with fury as it lunged again.
Lyrelle gritted her teeth, sweat slicking her brow as she twisted and dodged, her strikes limited to quick jabs that barely slowed the creature. Her feet danced over the uneven ground, her movements fluid but increasingly strained. The fight was dragging on too long, and she could feel her stamina waning.
Behind her, Cole stirred. He blinked through the haze of pain and exhaustion, his vision blurry but slowly focusing on the scene in front of him. Lyrelle, his steadfast guide and protector, was locked in a desperate battle with the creature. He could see her skill, her determination—but he could also see that she was struggling.
The Memory Leech lashed out again, its claws slashing with relentless fury. Lyrelle gritted her teeth, her mind racing as she calculated her next move.
“Dance of Blades!” she shouted, her voice steady despite the chaos.
Her body moved fluidly, her daggers becoming an extension of her will. She spun and twisted, the blades in her hands glowing faintly as they moved in a blur, intercepting each of the creature’s strikes with precision. Sparks flew as her daggers met its claws, the magical steel holding firm against the corrupted onslaught.
The skill pushed her into a rhythm, her movements almost hypnotic as she deflected strike after strike. Each slash of the Memory Leech’s claws was met with a perfectly timed counter, her feet gliding over the ground as she controlled the flow of the battle.
But the creature’s strength was immense, and each blow she parried sent shocks up her arms, forcing her to grit her teeth and hold her ground. The last swipe hit with such force that it sent her skidding back several feet, her boots scraping against the dirt as she regained her balance.
Her chest heaved as she steadied herself, her green eyes blazing with determination. “You’re going to have to try harder than that,” she muttered under her breath, her grip tightening on her daggers.
Cole’s chest tightened, anger bubbling up inside him. That thing—it had been tormenting him, feeding on his fears, his guilt. It had driven him to the brink of madness and was now trying to kill the only person who had stood by him, the only person he cared about in a long time.
Rage flooded his body, a white-hot fury that burned away the fog of exhaustion. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles whitening as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. His heart thundered in his chest, the sound drowning out the screeches of the creature and the clashing of blades.
No more, he thought, his teeth grinding as the realization crashed over him. No more letting this thing control me. No more running. No more fear.
With a guttural growl, Cole’s fingers dug into the dirt, his muscles tensing as he forced himself to his knees. The anger was like a tidal wave, rising higher and higher, threatening to consume him entirely—but instead of drowning, he embraced it.
His vision sharpened, and his breath steadied as he focused on the creature. The Memory Leech had its back to him, its twisted body looming over Lyrelle as she continued to parry and evade its strikes. It didn’t notice him, didn’t see him slowly rising to his feet, his rage transforming into a singular, unshakable purpose.
“Enough,” Cole growled, his voice low and trembling with fury.
The Memory Leech paused mid-attack, its hollow eyes swiveling toward him as if sensing the shift. Lyrelle glanced back for the briefest of moments, her expression flickering with surprise and concern.
“Cole...” she started, but he wasn’t listening.
The fury inside him burned brighter, hotter, consuming the last remnants of doubt. His body felt stronger, his mind clearer, and for the first time in days, he felt like he was in control.
The Memory Leech turned toward him fully, its claws twitching as it let out a guttural snarl. But Cole didn’t flinch. His eyes locked onto the creature, and a deep, primal force surged within him, igniting something he couldn’t explain.
The rage burned in his body so intensely it was almost unbearable, like a physical force trying to escape. Cole clenched his fists, his breathing steady despite the storm inside him. He thought of the light spell Lyrelle had tried to teach him—the faint flicker of illumination he had managed before. He thought of the sun, its searing, blinding heat, and how he wanted to burn this grotesque shadow to dust.
The creature had dared to twist his memories, to stab him, to attack Lyrelle. The rage flared, growing with every thought. It wasn’t enough to destroy this thing—it needed to suffer. It needed to feel the same anguish it had inflicted on him.
Time seemed to slow as Cole straightened. His body felt alive, like fire coursed through his veins. A primal roar erupted from deep within him, his voice echoing through the forest like a war cry. The Memory Leech faltered for a moment, its hollow eyes narrowing as it stalked toward him, sensing the shift.
“Cole, no!” Lyrelle’s voice cut through the haze as she pursued the creature, her daggers flashing. But Cole didn’t hear her—his focus was locked on the monster before him.
The voice was back
Level up!
The words burned across his vision like fire, blinding and incomprehensible. He staggered briefly, clutching his head as a surge of energy rippled through him.
Class Unlocked: Mage.
The heat within him intensified, no longer just anger but a force yearning to be unleashed. His vision sharpened, and new knowledge flooded his mind. Words he didn’t know he knew, instincts he didn’t know he possessed—all of it came together in a single, undeniable purpose.
New Skill Obtained: Solar Flare.
Cole’s hands shot outward, glowing with golden light that seared through the darkness like the first rays of dawn. His rage channeled into the energy, his thoughts blazing with the image of the sun’s wrath.
The Memory Leech hesitated, its movements faltering as it sensed the sudden shift in power. Its hollow eyes narrowed, its claws twitching with uncertainty. But then it let out a guttural shriek, a sound of pure rage, and lunged at Cole, its claws reaching for him with deadly intent.
Cole didn’t flinch. His rage crystallized into a singular focus, and the words tore from his throat like a primal command. “Solar Flare!”
The air around him ignited in a blinding explosion of golden light, brighter than anything the forest had ever seen. The ground beneath his feet seemed to pulse with the force of the spell as radiant energy burst outward, consuming everything in its path.
The Memory Leech screamed, its voice piercing and distorted as the light tore through its incorporeal form. Shadows writhed and twisted, its translucent body convulsing violently in the inferno. The glow of the elven dagger in its neck intensified, the blade acting as a conduit for the energy that ripped the creature apart.
Its form began to unravel, black ichor and smoke evaporating into the golden brilliance. It clawed desperately at the light, its monstrous hands grasping for something, anything, to hold onto. But there was nothing. The radiant power consumed it utterly, leaving behind only the echo of its final, agonized wail.
The forest fell silent. The oppressive darkness that had hung over the area vanished, replaced by the soft glow of Cole’s fading energy. The golden light that had erupted from him flickered and dimmed, the warmth receding as quickly as it had come.
Cole staggered slightly, his chest heaving with exhaustion. His body felt heavier than ever, his muscles trembling from the sheer force of the spell he’d unleashed. But the rage inside him had subsided, leaving a strange calm in its place.
The Memory Leech was gone—erased as though it had never existed.
Lyrelle staggered back, shielding her eyes as the heat of the blast surged through the forest, obliterating the creature’s presence entirely. The air grew still, the oppressive darkness lifted, leaving only silence and the faint crackle of residual energy.
Cole stood in the aftermath, his body trembling from the force of what he had just unleashed. His hands still glowed faintly, the golden light flickering before fading. He felt... different. Stronger, yet drained.
Lyrelle approached cautiously, her gaze flicking between Cole and the scorched earth where the Memory Leech had been. “What... was that?” she asked, her voice both awed and wary.
Cole’s chest heaved as he looked down at his hands, the realization settling in. “I think... I leveled up,” he said, his voice low and unsure, his mind racing to process what had just happened.
Lyrelle sprinted toward Cole as the golden light of the Solar Flare faded. Her breath came in sharp gasps, but her movements were swift and precise, her daggers still in hand. When she reached him, she dropped to her knees and grabbed his shoulders, her green eyes scanning him frantically.
“Cole!” she called, her voice filled with concern. Her gaze darted to his back, where the three bloody claw marks had been before he unleashed his newfound power. But her hands found only smooth, unbroken skin beneath his torn shirt. Her brows furrowed, confusion and awe flickering across her face.
She placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to meet her eyes. “The wounds... they’re gone.”
Cole blinked, still dazed and reeling from the power he had just unleashed. “What? Gone?”
Lyrelle didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she leaned in, her worry melting into relief. Without thinking, she pressed her lips to his.
When she pulled back, her voice was calm but firm. “You’re okay,” she said, as much to reassure herself as to him.
Cole looked down at himself, his hands roaming over his torso and back where the wounds should have been. “How is that possible?” he asked, his voice still shaky.
Lyrelle glanced over at the spot where the Memory Leech had been destroyed, spotting his elven dagger lying amidst the scorched earth. She stood, picked it up, and turned back to him, holding the blade out. “Come on, let’s get back inside. I’ll explain.”
She helped him to his feet, guiding him toward the safety of the cave. Once inside, she set him down near the glowing wards and knelt beside him, her expression a mix of curiosity and caution.
“Elaris told us that the magic you were given—the potion, the healing—it might have effects beyond what we expected,” Lyrelle said, her tone measured. “Rapid healing like this must be one of yours.”
Cole leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “That’s... awesome,” he said, a small grin forming. “I’m like Wolverine or something.”
Lyrelle raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “Wolverine?”
Cole chuckled weakly. “Yeah, a guy from back home—he’s got super healing and stuff. I mean, if I can heal like that, this is... amazing!”
Lyrelle shook her head, her expression turning serious. “Never mind who Wolverine is. Cole, listen to me. If you have an ability like that, it will have a downside. Abilities like this always do. You need to be careful until we figure out what that is, because I promise you—there is a negative.”
Cole’s grin faded slightly, and he nodded. “Right... yeah, that makes sense. I’ll be careful.”
Lyrelle softened her tone, resting a hand on his arm. “Good. For now, get some rest. You just unlocked a class, cast a massive spell, and nearly got yourself killed. You need time to recover.”
You're absolutely right—I’ll be more mindful of word repetition, especially overused phrases like "ground themselves." Let’s revise that section for more variety and to better capture the moment. Here's a fresh take:
Cole nodded, his fingers brushing over the faint remnants of his torn shirt where the claw marks had been. “I’m not sure how I’ll sleep now...” His voice faltered, the weight of the night settling heavily on him.
Lyrelle tilted her head slightly, her green eyes softening as they met his. “You’ve been through a lot in the last day. But you will sleep, Cole. You need to. Your body—and your mind—can only take so much before they shut down.”
He gave her a weak, almost sheepish smile. “Yeah, well, I think my mind’s been on the fritz for a while now, so who knows where the line is anymore?”
Lyrelle smirked faintly, a flicker of dry humor breaking through her otherwise serious demeanor. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here to make sure you don’t break completely.”
She moved toward the makeshift bedding near the warded cave wall, her movements fluid and precise, even after everything they’d faced. Adjusting the layers to make them more comfortable, she gestured for him to lie down.
Cole hesitated, his thoughts still racing, but her calm presence seemed to quiet the storm raging inside him. Reluctantly, he eased himself down onto the bedding, the ache in his muscles reminding him of the toll the day had taken.
“Even if you don’t sleep, rest,” Lyrelle said softly, sitting cross-legged a short distance away with her daggers resting beside her. Her gaze flicked toward the cave’s entrance, sharp and watchful. “I’ll keep watch.”
For a moment, Cole said nothing, watching the faint play of light from the wards flicker across her face. There was something reassuring in the way she carried herself—steady, unwavering, like a calm anchor in the chaos.
Finally, he nodded, the weight of her words and her presence settling over him like a protective blanket. Despite his earlier doubts, the tension in his body began to ebb, and his eyelids grew heavier.
Her voice, steady and deliberate, was the last thing he heard before exhaustion claimed him