Aelric stirred from the shallow sleep he had fallen into, waking to the gentle tapping of rain against the leaves above. His body felt stiff, aching in ways he hadn’t expected. He blinked against the early morning light, the overcast sky casting a dull gray hue across the forest. For a moment, he lay still, trying to recall where he was, what had happened—but the memories came flooding back in a rush. The fight, the guards, Elda.

Elda was gone.

He sat up slowly, wincing as the sharp pain in his side reminded him of his injuries. The rain had started as a light drizzle, but as he looked up, the clouds seemed to darken even further, threatening something worse. He could already feel the chill settling into his bones. His clothes were soaked through from the dampness, and he had no shelter, no food—nothing.

The forest around him was dense, the trees standing tall and close together, their branches heavy with the weight of the impending storm. His breath hung in the cold air, and as the drizzle slowly turned into a steady rain, he felt the panic rising in his chest. He had fled in the dead of night, barely thinking about where he was going. There was no plan, no direction—just survival.

And now, the forest seemed to stretch endlessly before him, offering no clues as to where he should go next. His feet were sore, his muscles weak from the strain of running for hours on end. His body begged for rest, but the rain kept coming, harder now, cold and relentless.

“Where am I?” Aelric muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. His hands trembled as he stood, using the tree for support. He didn’t know how far he had run, how much distance he had put between himself and Delsworth. But the thought of turning back was unthinkable. He couldn’t face what awaited him there.

With a heavy sigh, Aelric started walking. He kept his head low, the rain now pouring in thick sheets, soaking him even further. Every step felt like a battle against the cold and fatigue. His thoughts wandered aimlessly, his mind frayed from the events of the past few days. He hadn’t had time to process everything, and now, in the stillness of the forest, the weight of it all crashed down on him.

Calder’s death. The guards. The trial. Elda.

He hadn’t wanted any of this. Aelric stopped for a moment, clutching his side where the guard’s sword had cut deep. The wound hadn’t healed properly—it was still raw, throbbing with every breath. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going. His magic was weak, a faint flicker inside him, barely enough to sustain him, let alone heal his wounds.

“I can’t… I can’t keep doing this,” he whispered to himself, his voice cracking with exhaustion. “What am I even running from anymore?”

The wind whipped through the trees, carrying the scent of wet earth and decay. Aelric shivered, wrapping his arms around himself in a futile attempt to ward off the cold. His clothes were drenched, clinging to his skin, and he could feel the water pooling in his boots with every step. He wasn’t prepared for this—not for the wilderness, not for the cold, not for the hunger that gnawed at his stomach.

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His thoughts spiraled as he wandered aimlessly through the forest, the rain now coming down in torrents. It soaked through the canopy above, drenching everything below. The path became slippery, the mud sucking at his boots, slowing his progress even further.

Every sound in the forest seemed louder now—the rustling of leaves, the creaking of branches, the distant rumble of thunder. Aelric glanced around nervously, half-expecting something to leap out at him from the shadows. He was alone. Completely, utterly alone.

His mind churned, cycling through memories he couldn’t escape. The fight in the alley with Calder, the brutal encounter with the guards, Elda’s soft voice in the dungeon. Guilt gnawed at him, twisting in his gut. What had he become?

As if in answer to his despair, a crack of thunder echoed through the forest, and the rain intensified. Aelric cursed under his breath, feeling the weight of it pressing down on him. He needed shelter—any shelter. His legs trembled with exhaustion, his head spinning from the cold and hunger. He was losing strength fast.

It was then that he saw it—a dark, jagged opening in the side of a rocky hill just ahead. A cave.

Aelric stumbled toward it, relief washing over him as he ducked inside the opening. The air in the cave was cool, but at least it was dry. He collapsed against the wall, his body shaking with exhaustion. The storm raged outside, the wind howling through the trees, but inside the cave, there was a strange calm.

The cave stretched back farther than he could see, the walls jagged and irregular. Aelric’s eyes followed the strange markings etched into the stone, but he couldn’t make sense of them. His mind was too foggy, too worn from the cold and pain.

As he sat there, trying to catch his breath, something caught his eye—a faint, flickering light at the far end of the cave. Curiosity sparked within him, despite his exhaustion. Slowly, painfully, Aelric pushed himself to his feet and limped deeper into the cave.

The light grew stronger as he approached, and soon, he saw the source. At the far end of the cave, amidst the scattered remains of bones—both human and bestial—was a small, glowing stone. It rested against the skeletal remains of what had once been a mage, the tattered remnants of their robes still clinging to the bones.

Aelric knelt down, his heart pounding. The cave walls were marked with deep gouges, as if a great battle had taken place here long ago. The skeletal remains of a massive beast lay nearby, twisted and broken. The sight of it all sent a shiver down his spine, but his eyes were drawn to the stone.

The small, irregularly shaped stone glowed faintly from within, like a trapped ember. It hung from a thin, frayed leather cord—the remains of an amulet.

His hands shook as he reached for it. The stone was warm to the touch, despite the cold air of the cave. As he held it, a faint warmth spread through his body, easing some of the tension in his muscles. His magic stirred within him, responding to the amulet’s presence.

Aelric slipped the cord over his head, the amulet resting against his chest. The warmth intensified, though not overpowering. It was subtle, like a gentle flame rekindling inside him. His magic, though still weak, felt steadier, more controlled.

But even as the warmth spread through him, Aelric’s thoughts remained clouded. This wasn’t a moment of triumph. He hadn’t found power—he had found survival. The storm raged outside, but inside the cave, his mind raced with everything he had lost, everything he had fled from.

He slumped back against the wall, clutching the amulet. The skeletons around him were a reminder of what this world could do to those with power. Mages had fought here once, long ago, and now their bones were all that remained.

“Is this what happens to us?” Aelric muttered to himself, his voice hollow. “Is this how it ends?”

The warmth from the amulet soothed his aching body, but it couldn’t calm the storm in his mind. He wasn’t ready for this—wasn’t ready to face whatever lay ahead. But there was no going back now. Delsworth was behind him, and the path ahead was shrouded in darkness.