Shadows surged to meet him, snaking up from the ground like they'd anticipated the move. Tyrus twisted midair, kicking off the branch before fully landing, and used the momentum to spin onto another tree limb further left. The bark cracked beneath his boot, but he didn't stop. He kept leaping through the canopy like a wild animal on the run.

The trees offered little comfort. Tendrils of darkness slithered across trunks and branches, reaching for him with eerie patience. He didn't dare stop. Not when every second might be the one where a shadow found his heart.

Straight combat would kill him. His mana heart were already strained from pushing himself too far. If he overused them now, the backlash could rupture his heart. For now, relying on Beast Transformation and bursts of augmentation would have to be kept to an absolute minimum.

Tyrus leapt onto a thick branch bathed in moonlight and crouched low, keeping his balance as he looked over his shoulder. He thought he had lost them until four thin tentacles shot up from the forest floor like lances, stabbing the tree. The wood creaked under the impact, splinters flying into the air. The trunk he stood on bowed downward, and Tyrus jumped just as the previous tree split into two and tumbled onto the ground.

In the corner of his eye, he witnessed the sorcerer catching up to him. Instead of running on their own two legs, they were using their shadows to propel themselves forward, tendrils acting like elongated limbs, moving eerily similar as a rock spider. Tyrus shivered at the harrowing sight and moved as fast as his legs could carry him.

In his mind, he willed his dagger to return; invisible threads of mana tugging it through the forest. Tyrus felt the dagger weaving its way through the air behind him, drawn to his will like a moth to flame. It returned to his hand in seconds, and he held onto the leather hilt in the meantime.

Leaves slashed his face, bark scraped his arms, and every heartbeat felt like it shook his ribs loose. The forest grew denser the further east he ran, branches tangling together like skeletal fingers, but he could feel the pull of the sea—cool air brushing against the sweat on his neck, salty and sharp.

The soft thump of shadow tendrils slapping against bark echoed behind him, keeping perfect rhythm with his movements. The cloaked sorcerer didn't slow. They simply chased, like death given form. Tyrus dropped into a roll, then sprang to his feet and skidded under a low arch of stone and roots.

Even with augmentation and Beast Transformation, they're keeping up! I can't keep running all day. I have to try something new.

Tyrus whirled around and let loose a few Lightning Bolts at his pursuer. The streaks of crackling blue energy lit the forest in jagged flashes, searing the night with raw power. A tendril from the sorcerer lashed forward and smacked the spells away in a casual motion, like swatting flies. The bolts exploded against the forest floor, sending up showers of sparks and splinters, but the figure never broke stride.

Tyrus took a shaky step back, brow slick with sweat. That didn't even slow them down…

He reached into his Scourge ring and brought out the dried herbs for warding off minor spirits. Tyrus crushed the brittle bundle between his fingers and hurled the smoldering bits at the sorcerer's path. As the herbs hit the ground, a blue-green haze billowed out in a wide arc, the smoke tinged with the faint scent of lavender.

Normally, it was enough to make minor spirits recoil, as explained by Fiona. Tyrus hoped his pursuer was a spirit of some kind, given how off-putting and creepy they acted, but to no surprise, nothing happened. The cloaked figure strode straight through the haze. The tendrils of shadow didn't even flinch. If anything, they looked more concentrated now, darker and sharper, drawn toward Tyrus like arrows to a target.

He clenched his fists, frustration blooming hot in his chest. "Okay," he muttered under his breath, teeth clenched. "Time for my fourth plan."

Without warning, he dropped into a sprint and fired off two Lightning Bolts, not at the enemy this time, but at the trees to either side. The bolts blasted through bark and branches, toppling limbs and kicking up a chaotic shower of debris and sound.

He continued to sprint away, hurling more Lightning Bolts at every tree that entered his vision. Every bolt pulled at his mana heart like a clawed hand yanking from within. The backlash hadn't hit yet—but it was coming. He could feel it pulsing in his veins, a slow warning with every beat.

Branches exploded around him, a symphony of cracking wood and shrieking sparks. He wasn't aiming to hit anything now. He was making noise, light, and chaos. Anything to buy distance and force his pursuer to hesitate.

A cloud of dirt from the falling trees encompassed the area, and the figure of the enemy disappeared behind the new veil. Tyrus took that change to slow his breathing and suppress his mana. As quiet as a mouse, he crouched and scurried in the opposite direction, using the foliage as cover.

Tyrus weaved through thickets and dipped under drooping branches, using every bit of his wild-born instincts to vanish into the underbrush. A trickle of blood slid down his cheek where a branch had nicked him earlier, but he ignored it. His focus was on escape, survival, and not drawing the attention of the thing that hunted him.

As long as I'm quiet and eliminate my presence, they can't find me here. If running or fighting won't work, then hiding is my best option.

He pressed a hand over his chest, feeling the faint quiver of his mana heart. It pulsed unevenly, strained from the repeated casting and sudden bursts of movement.

Tyrus grabbed the Ka-Roh out of his ring and uncorked the bottle. The pale liquid sloshed against the sides as he brought it to his lips and took a slow sip. A bitter taste eclipsed his tongue and burned down his throat, harsh enough to make his eyes water. He didn't pause until the third drop hit his tongue.

He silently gagged, coughed once, and quickly deposited the bottle back into his ring. A few seconds later, the tightness in his chest began to ease. It wasn't much, but it gave him the breathing room he needed.

I barely did anything, and the tightness came back quick. Thank you, Head Healer Vaerlyn.

After that silent prayer of thanks, Tyrus focused his attention back to the cloud of dirt. In no time, it dispersed and revealed the sorcerers back turned. For a moment, a rush of temptation surged through him. To strike while their back was turned and deliver a devastating blow.

His hand inched toward the ring on his finger. He could fire off a Dual Shot charged with everything he had left. He visualized it: the twin bolts spiraling together, crashing into the sorcerer's spine, and ending this nightmare.

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Then he stopped himself. He'd seen the sorcerer shrug off his Lightning Bolts like they were little more than flickering candlelight. So instead, he buried himself deeper into the brush. He was a stone, a shadow, a piece of the forest.

Minutes passed until the sorcerer began to move. The tendrils pulled back, sweeping through trees, sniffing the air like hounds. Tyrus didn't move a muscle, not even when a shadow limb slithered within a few feet of his hiding spot. He forced his lungs to stay shallow, ignoring the dull throb in his chest.

The sweeping tendrils retracted. Their form blurred at the edges, as though melting into the earth. Tyrus watched as they stepped into a swirling pool of shadows, darkness blooming from beneath their feet like spilled ink, and disappeared into it entirely.

Tyrus remained frozen for a solid minute, then another. Only when he could no longer feel the pull of the sorcerer's aura did he allow his body to release its tension.

He exhaled quietly and whispered, "Did I finally lose them?"

"Found you," a voice buzzed from behind.

Tyrus jerked, instinct screaming, but before he could so much as twitch his hand toward a spell, something cold wrapped around his mouth. A tendril of shadow constricted his lips and jaw with suffocating force. Another snaked around his ankle, then his thigh, yanking him out of the brush like a hooked fish.

The forest flipped upside down. Leaves and tiny rocks dripped off Tyrus's body. His arms flailed as he was hoisted into the air. A gasp escaped his nose, muffled by the binding around his mouth. And then—he was face to face with them.

The sorcerer was no longer in a pool of shadows, only standing on crushed leaves and soil. Their face was still obscured beneath a veil of darkness. Tyrus squirmed and twisted with augmentation, but the tendrils dared not budge. Realizing a contest of strength was futile, he stretched out his arm and shot forth a Lightning Bolt at the sorcerer. In a swift motion, a tentacle that covered his mouth swatted it away.

The sorcerer tilted their head, studying him like one might study an animal caught in a trap.

"You have improved a great deal, Tyrus," they said in a quiet voice.

Tyrus froze at the familiar voice. "How do you know my name?"

"We have eyes all over Dharmere, child. That, and you have been one of the unfortunate souls marked by Leader."

"We? Leader? Marked?" A light bulb flickered in his head. "It all makes sense now! All of this is Scourge's fault."

"How observant," they said sarcastically. One of their shadow tendrils hovered next to his neck. "You've been a thorn in Leader's side for quite a while now. Eavesdropping on Sezor's renegade plans, stirring up conflict in the Wasteful Wetlands, and even finishing him off in that underground chamber. Because of you, Johan and the royal knights are aware of our existence. You've done far more damage than you realize."

The tendril inched closer to his skin, drawing a thin line of pressure against his neck. "Fate is a curious one, is it not? Here you are, once again, on a mission to stop whatever operation Scourge is running. Out of thousands, why is it that you always seem to show up at the wrong place at the right time?"

Tyrus swallowed hard, throat tight beneath the coiling shadow. He tried not to flinch, tried not to let them see his pulse hammering. "You're not going to kill me. If you were, you'd have done it already."

The sorcerer tilted their head again, considering. "A bold assumption. I must admit, it is true that killing you would be a waste considering Leader wants you dead or alive."

Tyrus's mind raced. That wording "dead or alive" wasn't reassuring. If anything, it just confirmed how expendable he really was. Still, it was a thread to pull.

"Then why not take me now?" he said, stalling, his voice steadier than he felt. "Why waste time talking? Unless you want me to ask questions."

"Getting whatever little information you can get out of the enemy is useful. Is that not common sense?"

Tyrus flinched at that—not because of the insult, but because of the familiarity that laced their words. The cadence tugged at something; similar to a half-remembered song from childhood. A buried name. A voice that used to mean safety, or maybe something else entirely.

A headache stirred. Same as when he'd first locked eyes with this figure. A slow throb behind his temples, pressing against something deeper.

Tyrus couldn't detect a scent emanating from the sorcerer. Whoever they were, they were masking it perfectly. Still, that voice kept scratching at the edge of his thoughts.

I've heard you before… but where?

"I remember your voice," he muttered, more to himself.

"You don't have time to reminisce," they said. "Your friends are stirring up trouble. Two of them have already met my colleague, and another had snuck inside the lighthouse. I imagine it would be soon before she begins to make her move."

Tyrus gritted his teeth. He strained again against the bindings, trying to augment his muscles, trying to move anything. But the shadows responded like coils of steel. Another pool of shadows appeared next to the sorcerer, its surface rippling. With Tyrus still trapped, the sorcerer moved toward the gate, ready to whisk him to whatever was awaiting them on the other side.

Just then, a blur of motion shot from the tree line. Tyrus eyes widened just in time to see Reo colliding into the sorcerer like a meteor, fist first, catapulted by a surge of mana that sent both figures crashing into the dirt.

Tyrus hit the ground hard, the tendrils vanishing in wisps of vapor as the impact disrupted the spell. He rolled over, coughing and gasping, clutching his ribs. His vision swam—but not enough to miss what came next.

The sorcerer stumbled back, hood dislodged just slightly. In the flicker of moonlight, shadows peeled for an instant, and Tyrus saw half of their face. Flowing hair as black as a night sky hung to her shoulders with pupils that matched. Most shocking was a thin scar that ran diagonal at the chin.

Time seemed to stop for Tyrus as his lips quivered. "That scar…" Tyrus breathed, eyes wide. "I know that scar!"

But before he could say more, the shadows surged again, masking the face, and the sorcerer vanished in a blink—drawn back into the mist like they'd never been there at all.

Reo stood protectively in front of him, chest rising and falling. "You alright there, Tyrus?"

Tyrus didn't answer right away. His eyes were locked on the space where the sorcerer had stood, his thoughts spinning. In his daze, Grant ran up to them, shield drawn, as he crouched to Tyrus.

"In response to the disturbance, we proceeded with all haste," Grant remarked, observing the ravaged landscape. "Are you well? What happened?"

Tyrus slowly sat up, still staring into the trees like the sorcerer might step back out at any moment.

"I…" His voice was hoarse. "I think I know her."

Grant blinked. "Her?"

Reo turned back to him, brow furrowed. "That woman who attacked you? You're sure?"

Tyrus shook his head slowly. "No. Yes. I—I don't know. When hearing her voice, it was like I'd heard it before. I just couldn't place it until I saw the scar. It's like she didn't want to kill me. She could've, so many times…"

"Doesn't mean she won't next time," Reo muttered. "Whoever she is, she's dangerous."

They fell silent for a moment while the moment settled. Then, slowly, the mist around them began to shift.

Reo noticed it first. "Hey… look."

The mist that cloaked the Whispering Forest like a living thing started to unravel. It peeled away from the trees in long, trailing wisps, lifting higher into the air as though caught in an invisible draft. Above the canopy, it twisted and swirled like smoke being sucked into a vent, vanishing into the sky by the second.

Tyrus stood to his feet with Grant's help, wincing slightly. "The mist is disappearing?"

Grant looked toward the sea, where the thinning mist revealed a faint glow in the distance—then a pulse, like a heartbeat of energy rippling through the air. The trees rustled. The very ground beneath them seemed to vibrate.

An explosion of mana burst in the direction of the sea. A radiant shockwave lit up the night sky with blue and silver light, illuminating the treetops for a brief instant.

"What the hell was that?!" said Reo.

Grant shielded his eyes from the lingering light. "I don't know. But that wasn't natural."

Reo grunted. "You think the others are over there?"

Tyrus nodded slowly. "That sorcerer said the others have already met with her buddy."

Grant turned to him, sharp. "You don't think—?"

"I don't know." Tyrus clenched his fists. "But if Fiona was caught in the middle of that… I'm not going to stand here doing nothing."

Grant gave a curt nod. "Let's move. You can give us the run down while we run."

Tyrus glanced back one last time toward the spot where the sorcerer had vanished. The image of that scar still clung to the front of his mind. He didn't know who she was. Not fully, but he had an idea. But could that person really have been Wanderer? That couldn't be possible, right?

As the wind shifted and the scent of salt reached them from the sea, the three took off through the forest, no longer hindered by mist. Tyrus lagged behind, face scrunched by his turbulent thoughts

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