The fire had barely faded from their bodies when the sky cracked open with a roar.
Nerra was on her feet first, eyes narrowed, knives already back in her hands.
Kael stood slower, the glow of the Seal still faintly pulsing on his chest. His senses were sharper now—enhanced. Every sound in the forest echoed like a whisper in his ear.
"What is it?" he asked, scanning the dark horizon.
Nerra didn't answer. She crouched, fingers brushing the damp soil.
"Trackers," she said. "Shadowborn. Sent to kill Chosen before they can gather power."
Kael's lip curled. "Then they're too late."
A sound like shattering bone echoed from the trees. Something moved in the fog—no, many somethings. Slender and tall, with spines protruding from their backs and faces like rotting masks.
Their eyes glowed red.
"There," Nerra said, stepping into a battle stance. "There's three. No—four."
Kael's fists clenched, and to his surprise, fire sparked at his fingertips.
"I don't need a weapon," he muttered.
"You've never fought a Shadowborn," she snapped. "They don't bleed. They feed—on soul energy."
One of the creatures lunged.
Kael moved instinctively, sidestepping and grabbing its head. Flame exploded from his palm, lighting up the forest in a flash of red and gold. The creature shrieked as its body burned into ash.
The others paused. Hissed.
"They're regrouping," Nerra said. "They adapt."
Kael's grin was wild.
"So do I."
He lunged into the fray, his body moving like instinct, like memory. Fire coiled along his arms, every strike fueled by rage and power he hadn't earned but now owned. Nerra fought beside him—graceful and lethal, a whirlwind of blades and wrath.
But then—
A scream cut the air.
Not Nerra's.
A girl, deeper in the forest.
Young. Terrified.
Kael froze. Another one?
Nerra swore. "They're hunting more than just you. Someone else is awakening."
Kael turned, blood still dripping from his hands.
"We're not finished," he growled to the surviving Shadowborn.
Then he ran toward the scream.
And the fire followed.