Kael dragged his fingers along the surface of a fallen titan tree as he walked beside it. The bark didn't react, it was cold, dry, and unmoved by his touch. Massive fungi grew out from its side, each one nearly the size of a porcelain plate. He gave one a light tap. It felt more like wood than the soft, spongy texture he'd expected.
"I wonder how long this thing's been dead," he muttered, pulling his hand back and tucking it into his coat pocket.
The tree was massive, like all the others around it. The ground was dry, and there was barely any insect life out here. The only things slowly wearing the giant down were the wind, the dust it carried, and the quiet, steady grind of time.
His eyes moved through the forest.
If he didn't know better, Kael might have believed this forest went on forever. Each tree was different in its own way, some thicker, some darker, some more weathered, but they blurred together into an endless stretch of towering trunks that made it hard to tell if he was moving forward at all.
He tilted his head back, eyes trailing up the massive bark walls that surrounded him until they reached the canopy far above.
The forest was still. Not quiet in the usual way, but deeply, unnaturally silent. No birds sang from the branches, no insects buzzed past his ears. Even the usual ambient rustle of undergrowth was missing. The only sign of movement came from the crowns high above, swaying gently in the wind.
If not for the crunch of dirt and gravel shifting beneath his boots, the silence would have swallowed him whole.
Step by step, Kael moved deeper into the Titanwoods. Each step echoed faintly in his ears, the sound oddly soft, like walking through snow on a frozen morning.
Then, the sound stopped.
Not just his footsteps, everything.
Without thinking, without even knowing why, Kael moved.
Instinct slammed into him like a wave. His body twisted sharply, reacting before his thoughts could catch up. His shoulder snapped back, coat flaring with the motion. His hair whipped across his face, carried by the sudden shift in air as he pivoted hard, eyes narrowing.
At the same moment, a pale figure streaked past him, its claws slicing through the air with a whistling sound, missing his throat by a hair's breadth.
Caught off guard, Kael's eyes widened for the briefest moment before settling back into their usual cold, unreadable stare.
'Fast.'
His expression didn't shift, but his eyes worked overtime, tracking the blur of movement that tore through the trees toward him. His thoughts sharpened, every sense straining to keep pace with the creature's speed.
It lunged toward Kael once more.
A sharp blur cut through the air as Kael twisted just in time, the wind of the strike brushing past his side. The creature's attack sliced through empty space where he had stood only a moment before. His head snapped toward it, tracking its arc, and his body moved without hesitation. He shifted his stance, leaving no blind spots.
The moment his gaze locked back onto the threat, it was already coming at him again.
Kael's eyes widened slightly in realization. In the next instant, his cane snapped upward with terrifying speed.
The pale hand, once again reaching for his throat, was struck mid-air. The force of the blow deflected the attack just enough to spare his vitals, but not completely. Sharp claws raked across his chin, tearing through skin and drawing a streak of blood.
The collision knocked the creature off course. The speed of its lunge, combined with the sudden impact, sent it tumbling forward. It hit the ground hard, rolling several meters before finding its footing and springing upright again.
It turned to face him, its head twitching slightly as its mouth opened in a silent snarl. No hiss came, only a faint, ragged breath. Its fingers flexed slowly, rubbing at the hand Kael had struck, the motion twitchy, almost uncertain.
Kael let out a slow breath, his grip still tight on the cane. For the first time, he took a proper look at the thing now standing across from him.
His brow furrowed. This wasn't just another beast.
In front of him stood a long, pale creature balanced on all fours. Its front limbs ended in what looked like twisted human hands, the fingers stretched unnaturally long, flexing slowly in the dirt. Wind tugged at its filthy hair, strands dancing across its hollow face. It stared at Kael with ink-black eyes. No emotion, no flicker of thought. Just that still, eerie gaze. Like a beast.
But Kael knew better.
'So that's how it is…'
He ran his thumb along his chin, glancing down at the blood sliding over his knuckles before raising his eyes again.
This was a Dreadborn, one of the rare types of creatures that wore the body of a beast but carried the mind of something far more dangerous.
Kael stared at the creature, his expression cold and unreadable. His thoughts collided and reformed at an alarming rate as he systematically evaluated the monster.
Without haste, he began to unbutton his coat, his gaze never leaving the creature. Once undone, he let it fall to the ground beside him.
The coat would offer no protection in this fight. And besides, Kael saw no reason to let it get ruined. The moment it hit the ground, the pale creature shot toward him once more, seemingly enraged by the pain he had inflicted upon it.
Kael swiftly moved aside, narrowly dodging yet another strike aimed at his vital point. He gripped his cane in his left hand while his right hovered near the knife fastened to his belt.
The creature unleashed a relentless flurry of attacks. Kael dodged and parried, his movements fluid and natural. Even though its intelligence nearly matched a human's, it still couldn't break through Kael's defense.
Small beads of sweat formed on Kael's brow, trailing slowly down before falling to the dry earth. A thin line of blood traced a path from his chin.
Kael's combat style had no name. At a glance, it might have seemed unrefined, improvised, even. But it was anything but. It was a method born of study and honed through countless battles. Every strike, every step, was guided by precision and a cold, calculating mind. It was a style tailored to him alone, one few could imitate and even fewer survive.
As the fight wore on, new cuts appeared on his skin, and sweat now fell freely, darkening the dusty ground. Still, his expression never shifted. His gaze stayed fixed on the creature, sharp and unblinking. Every unnecessary thought had been stripped away.
'It seems young. Naive.'
Only fragments of thought slipped through the focus of battle, but as the fight dragged on, Kael's understanding of the creature grew sharper.
Then his emerald eyes narrowed. The Dreadborn had made a mistake.
Whether it was due to inexperience or frustration from failing to land a killing blow didn't matter. What mattered was that the opening Kael had been waiting for had finally shown itself.
Until now, he had fought defensively. But the moment the Dreadborn misjudged, even slightly, Kael moved.
It struck downward, aiming to crush his skull.
Kael met the blow with a sharp parry, his body shifting with it. In the same breath, he surged forward, the blade he had kept ready finally slipping free of its sheath.
'There.'
He closed the gap in an instant, now standing face-to-face with the creature. His arm snapped forward, and the blade drove cleanly into its neck. In one swift motion, Kael yanked it back, twisting as he pulled. A sudden spray of blood burst from the wound.
But the creature didn't flinch. It didn't even seem to notice. With a snarl, it lashed out, claws flashing toward Kael's head in a wild, furious swipe.
Too close to dodge. Kael didn't even try.
At the last second, he turned his head, exposing the side rather than the front. The claws tore through flesh, tearing from the base of his neck up toward his jawline, leaving behind a mess of mangled skin and blood.
Kael pushed himself away from the creature with all the strength he had left, rolling across the ground before springing to his feet. The pale thing glared at him with rage in its eyes and lunged forward again, but just as it did, its legs gave out beneath it.
It collapsed in a heap, panting hard, twitching with effort.
With a guttural breath, it forced itself back up, trembling, blood pouring from its neck. But as soon as it tried to take a step, its limbs buckled again. This time, it didn't rise.
The creature lay motionless, spasming once or twice before going still in a spreading pool of dark blood. It had finally bled out. Even in its last moments, it never realized how lethal a wound Kael had inflicted. And before it could comprehend its own demise, its mind turned foggy, its body failing it completely
"Argh." Kael let out a low grunt through clenched teeth, pressing a hand to his neck.
Warm blood seeped between his fingers. He felt the three jagged wounds torn into his skin, deep, but not fatal. The Dreadborn's final strike had missed his artery by a fraction. It wouldn't be enough to kill a Luminaire, but it still hurt like hell
Kael sheathed his knife and leaned on his cane as he walked over to the Dreadborn's corpse.
He let out a faint snicker under his breath before crouching in front of it. For a moment, he just looked at it. He reached down and grabbed it by its hair, lifting its head for a closer look.
The creature's skull was all wrong, too large for its body, with a twisted grin that stretched unnaturally close to its ears. Its black, glassy eyes stared straight at Kael, wide and empty, as if still sizing him up.
Kael met its stare with a blank look, held it for a second, then let go. The head dropped with a dull thud.
"Ugly bastard."
He still needed food, but there was no way he was eating that thing. After all, it was probably poisonous... or at least that's what Kael told himself.
He walked over to his coat, draped it over his shoulders, and continued along the path — only this time, a hand firmly pressed against his neck.
This fight had been unnecessarily deadly, but not without reason.
From the moment Kael accepted the mission, he'd already decided: his Luminaire powers would remain hidden unless absolutely necessary. Everything about the request set off alarms. The secrecy. The lack of details. And most of all, the noble family behind it.
On the surface, they acted with grace and righteousness. Behind closed doors, they were ruthless, willing to do whatever it took to protect their name. He doubted they planned to betray him, at least for the time being, but he wasn't about to bet his life on doubt.
There was rarely a better time to eliminate someone than when they were the ones making sure no traces were left behind. It would cover their tracks and save them the trouble of paying him when it was done.
Kael had been walking for a while when he finally pulled his hand away from his neck. He looked down. His palm was soaked, streaked with half-dried blood that clung to his skin like paint, still trailing in slow, sticky lines.
He exhaled through his nose and pressed his hand back against the wound.
There were still a few days left before he'd reach the meeting point, but he wasn't willing to take any chances. Given how high-end this mission seemed, Kael was certain the family had taken precautions. Someone was probably watching the surrounding area.
But that wasn't the only reason he was holding back.
Using his Luminaire abilities might have looked effortless from the outside, but the reality was anything but. Even for Kael, the fundamental nature of a mote was complex, hard to fully grasp no matter how many times he used one.
Over time, though, he'd found a way to make it manageable. He'd created a kind of mental framework, a visualization that allowed him to interface with the mote more clearly. It didn't make it easy, just... possible.
First, one had to understand how thoughts were formed, and how they got used.
Kael pictured them as bubbles. A person produced around 250,000 thoughts a day, using them constantly, even for actions as simple as a blink. Every step taken, every breath drawn, every reflex or habit, each quietly chipped away at that total.
New thoughts formed when existing ones collided. If two thought bubbles met without purpose, they simply broke apart and vanished. But if the connection sparked a meaningful idea or a clear intent, that thought would stick, ready to be used.
In a healthy mind, this cycle was constant. New thoughts would naturally begin to regenerate over time, slowly filling up the reserves.
Take something as ordinary as drinking tea. It might seem like only two distinct thoughts were needed: one to reach for the cup, and another to lift it. But forming those required many more beneath the surface. The brain had to calculate distance, angle, grip, pressure, every tiny muscle and adjustment required its own thread of thought. Those countless small decisions happened in a flash, but they each consumed thoughts.
'I need to rest.'
Kael threw a quick glance around, spotting a nearby tree and settling down against it, letting himself rest, if only for a moment.
Now came the second part of activating a mote, a concept even more difficult to grasp than the first. Unlike beasts, humans had wills. Without consciously willing specific actions to occur, thoughts would simply collide and form new ones in a raw, primal manner.
Take beasts, for example. They produced far fewer thoughts each day than humans, but that was fine, because they lacked a true will. Their thoughts followed a natural, instinct-driven pattern, forming around basic needs like eating, running, and hunting.
And then there were motes. Simple in theory, yet incredibly complex in nature. Each mote contained both thoughts and a will. But unlike a human's, the will within a mote operated more like a natural law, unchanging and absolute. Every mote represented a core essence of the world itself, bound to one of its fundamental principles.
If one were to find a wild mote and wished to claim it, they would need to refine it using their own will and thoughts, essentially overriding the mote's existing will and nature. It was a demanding, mentally draining process.
Activating a mote, bringing it to its bound form, was no less complex. Each mote had a predetermined bound form that could not be altered, no matter how much a Luminaire tried to impose their will on it. It was as if some unbreakable law of the universe dictated that each mote could only take on one specific shape upon activation.
Once a mote had been refined and made their own, a Luminaire would instinctively gain a sense of how it would manifest. The challenge then was to direct both thoughts and willpower toward that bound form, aligning themselves with the mote's core essence.
But summoning a mote's bound form was also mentally exhausting. If Kael were to call forth his soulbound mote in the shape of the golden rod, it would immediately consume around 20,000 thoughts.
That alone was reason enough to avoid using it so close to the meeting place.
And while thoughts did naturally regenerate over time, Kael wanted to be as close to his peak as possible when meeting the Eireindaile contact. He had no way of knowing how they would greet him, and could only prepare for every possibility.
Kael crossed his legs and rested his chin on the hand still pressed to his wound. With a quiet breath, he closed his eyes, deciding he wouldn't travel any further for the day.
Soon, the sun began its slow descent, spilling long shadows across the forest floor. The light faded, bit by bit, until the sky surrendered to dusk. Above the towering trees, night claimed the canopy.
Kael remained still beneath it all, untouched by the dark, as the Titanwoods exhaled and fell into silence once more around him.