Ayah watched as wave after wave of attackers invaded the camp from—what they had thought was— the safest area. They had emerged from the forest. Unlike what they had thought, Nur hadn’t attacked them from the pass. It had chosen to cut through the forest and get them from where they least expected.

The Temsian army faced the assault head-on despite Harith’s absence. They moved like an oiled machine, holding against the onslaught. Still, the losses were heavy.

Ayah marched through the camp—now turned battlefield—grabbing the first discarded sword she came upon. A slight frown twisted her face when she glimpsed Nur’s symbol on the hilt. With a deep breath, she joined the fray.

She lost herself in the fight, unaware of how much time had passed. The only thing she knew was that the sun was still bearing down on them. She dodged attack after attack, swinging her sword at upcoming enemies. The clanging of steel against steel resounded around the air, drawing the groans of pain and half-choked screams of dying soldiers from Nur and Temsia alike.

Then, a strange thing happened. The Nur soldiers started retreating back into the forest.

“Don’t go after them!” she yelled.

But some Temsian soldiers had already disappeared through the forest’s darkness. Ayah cursed loudly. It was obviously a trap. They meant to lure them inside. How could they not see it?

Soon, a myriad of monsters swarmed the plains, attacking Tensian and Nur soldiers— to slow in their retreat.

The blood must have lured them, she mused. But no. Even if. There was no explanation for their huge numbers.

They needed to retreat. Now.

Ayah’s eyes roamed around the mayhem, searching for familiar faces. She glimpsed Jamila, instructing the soldiers where to place the injured. She breathed a breath of relief, glad to see the healer safe, exhausted but unharmed.

“Where is Shoaib?”

Jamila glanced at her, her hand still on a soldier’s chest, healing his deep wound. “He headed into the forest. One of the scouts said he had glimpsed sight of the king.” She huffed, brows furrowed in annoyance. “Stubborn, just like his uncle.”

Ayah gawked at her. “He went alone?”

Whatever curse Jamila was going to hiss through her teeth was forgotten entirely as other injured soldiers were brought before her. She left another healer to deal with the soldier’s chest injury once the blood trickle had significantly slowed and stumbled up, nearly slipping into the red sludge that the grounds had now turned into.

“Head healer!” Another soldier called, dragging his injured friend. The poor man’s hand was hanging by a thread, his whole side drenched in blood. Still, he raved about his lost sword, insisting he could still fight.

Jamila hurried towards him, cursing under her breath.

“Hayna, give me Shoaib’s location.”

The map sprung up, showing the foolish boy advancing into the forest grounds.

Leaving the healer to her patients, Ayah hurried away, chasing the missing crown prince.

Some distance into the forest, she glimpsed three soldiers struggling against a hoard of monsters. One of them was injured. He held his side with a hand, the other holding tightly around his weapon.

Weren’t they the new recruits Harith was training? Why had they ventured so far from the camp?

She swung her sword, clearing a path towards the struggling soldiers. Their eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Lady Ayah!”

One of them gave her a salute.

“Are you out of your mind? The plan was to lure them into the forest, not the other way around.” She huffed.

“I’m sorry, my lady. We had volunteered to follow the crown prince but lost sight of him.”

She shook her head, swallowing her reproach with gritted teeth as she fended off another set of claws set to tear at her face.

She caught a glimpse of a red thread fastened around the monster’s neck. No, it wasn’t a thread. It seemed like it was made of vapor. It swirled and floated but never strayed far from the beast. Another blink, and it was gone. She swung the sword upward, cutting through its head. It fell to the ground, limp, a faint reddish tint wafting from its corpse before dissipating into the air.

The other monsters met the same fate. She passed the blade over one side of the beast’s mane, cleaning it of the gore.

“Thank you, my lady!” The recruits crowded around her, one of them rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

They were young, too young, just a couple of years older than Shoaib.

She nodded absently, blinking as her vision kept shifting. A second, a faint mist trail wafted through the tree, twisting around the monsters; the next, it was gone, and only the beasts remained.

She blinked, frowning in confusion.

[I shall stabilize Seeker’s Sight for you.]

It was as if her sight switched. All around her were intertwining trails of mist, like red threads, connecting the monsters together.

They all led in one direction.

Deeper into the forest.

Was this another skill?

[Correct.]

[Passive Skill: Seeker’s Sight Lv.1.]

[Restrictions applied due to low level.]

[I urge the player to level up the skill to detect stronger targets.]

So, there were some things she couldn’t track.

Still, it was helpful.

She checked the map. Wherever those trails led, they were in the same general location Shoaib was heading. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed.

As she started forward, the recruits’ cry of alarm stopped her.

“W-wait!”

She turned to them. They hesitated, stumbling over their words as they expressed their desire to follow her. She frowned, her gaze roaming over the injured recruit. He straightened his posture, meeting her eyes with determined ones.

“I’m fine.” He insisted. “The bleeding had already stopped.”

She regarded them. When they insisted on tagging along, she shrugged, warning them that she didn’t even know what awaited them. Still, their determination was unshaken.

As they ventured deeper, a trail of corpses littered the ground. Some had a huge chunk bitten out of them—courtesy of the monsters— others had their throat slit, sparsely placed, as if done deliberately. One soldier slumped against a tree, the same distance away from each other, the same red mist connecting them to whatever they were heading toward.

As if a trail. A beacon.

Ayah ignored the dread gnawing at her inside. She checked the map. She was still in the right direction. Both Hayna’s path and the mist trail were coinciding.

After a while, they reached the end of the trail. There, between felled tree trunks and a legion of Nur soldiers’ corpses, was a huge pattern drawn on the ground—circles and triangles with words written in between. The intricate lines and designs had an ominous dark red color. Ayah stilled, the blood freezing in her veins. It was blood. The pattern was drawn with the blood of those poor soldiers, signs of one precise cut over their throat. They’ve been drained to draw the spell. Ayah watched, horror gripping her chest. He had sacrificed the lives of his people to get a one-up on Temsia.

Was there an end to Aayan’s evilness?

“What kind of spell is this?”

[A summoning spell from the dark arts].

That much she had deduced.

“Is there a way to deactivate the spell?”

[The spell will stop functioning once its power source is depleted.]

She glanced around. What could be used as the spell’s power source? Could it be the caster himself? She could see a faint— too faint— trail leading further forward; Its color was different than the others.

[Familiar Girra is attempting to start a chat.]

[Accept/Refuse.]

Ayah blinked at the screen. Was this option always available?

She gawked at the message that appeared.

[Your kid is about to be smacked into the afterlife.]

“What? What happened?”

[This other human happened. Some maniac with a sword bigger than his ego.]

“Aayan? Shit, shit, shit. Try to hold on. I’ll get there soon.”

[No need to strain yourself. I can get you there now.]

“What? How?”

[You’re lucky to have me.]

Another message appeared, but from Hayna this time.

[Request to teleport Player to Familiar’s location.]

[Would you like to Accept/Refuse?]

“Is this one of Hayna’s abilities?”

[We’re partners, aren’t we? This little thing is normal. You really should have a talk with your Ancient. This is getting embarrassing.]

Ayah scowled. “You bet. Hayna, can I send a message to Harith?”

She needed to tell him Shoaib was in danger. She waited expectantly for Hayna to ask her what should be relayed to the general, but Hayna’s answer extinguished the fragile hope she nursed in her chest.

[Request denied. Party member Harith is not qualified to receive messages from Player.]

Ayah cursed under her breath.

[Request to teleport Player to Familiar’s location.]

[Would you like to Accept/Refuse?]

“I accept the request.”

[3.]

She turned to the nearest soldier, calling him.

[2.]

“Get back to camp. Find the general, and tell him the crown prince’s life is in danger.”

[1.]

The recruit looked at her, shock written all over his startled face.

Ayah opened her mouth to tell him to hurry, that there wasn’t time to waste. But she felt a sudden pull downwards. One second, she had lost her footing, falling into the void, a massive strength directing her body like a puppet pulled sharply by its strings. The next second, her feet touched the ground, her legs screaming at the sudden impact. She blinked the confusion from her eyes, the haze that had covered her mind clearing just in time for her to see the giant sword barreling toward her.

Her feet slid a few feet back under the force of the two swords colliding. She bit her lower lip as she pushed forward, enough to shove away the biting steel that had nearly kissed the skin of her throat.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? Temsia’a honored guest. I didn’t think I would see you so soon.”

Aayan’s voice grated at Ayah’s ears. She glared at him.

“Ayah!” Shoaib yelled.

He was slumped forward, cradling his injured hand. Blood seeped from an open wound in his head, washing his whole face in crimson. Panic gripped her chest. Was she already late? She had read somewhere that head wounds tended to bleed a lot. She hoped it was the case and the amount of blood washing over Shoaib’s face wasn’t a testament to the degree of his injury.

Her eyes roamed around the scorched ground, looking for the small dragon. Where was Girra? Why didn’t he protect him like she asked him to?

“Step back. I’ve got this,” she told Shoaib as he struggled to get to his feet.

Aayan chuckled. “Do you, now?”

He swung his sword. The blow sent her stumbling back another couple of feet.