"Damn it!" Lucan cursed, his voice cutting through the night. If only they could get out of that cursed forest. He knew the way — he had walked it before — but something was twisting the paths, bending them against him. Someone didn't want them to leave.
The trees groaned as if alive, their branches stretching unnaturally. Vines slithered across the ground, writhing like snakes under a spell. Lucan urged the stallion forward, dodging the grasping tendrils, his blade ready at his side.
Elira clung to him, her hands tight around his waist, until suddenly she felt a sharp tug. A vine had coiled around her ankle, dragging her backward.
"Ahhh!" she screamed, her voice piercing the forest. Her grip slipped, her body yanked sideways.
Lucan spun the horse around instantly, his eyes narrowing as he saw her being pulled into the shadows. Without hesitation, he swung his sword, cutting through the vines that lashed toward them. Each strike was precise, fueled by fury.
"You hold on!" he barked, driving the stallion closer. Another vine whipped toward her, but Lucan's blade severed it midair, the pieces writhing before shriveling into ash.
Elira was now tangled in the vines, dragged farther and farther from Lucan's reach. Her hands stretched desperately toward him, but the writhing tendrils pulled her deeper into the forest's grip.
"Lucan!" she cried, her voice breaking.
The vines coiled tighter, dragging her across the ground. Her ankle burned, her arms flailed, and every pull felt like it was tearing away pieces of her sanity. She had survived beasts before, but this — this endless, living forest — was something else entirely.
Her thoughts spiraled. Who the hell put me in this kind of story? she thought bitterly. I wanted adventure, but not this. Not to be swallowed alive by nightmares.
Her chest tightened, her breath ragged. She just wanted to go home.
The vines surged again, wrapping around her waist, pulling her down. Her vision blurred, her mind slipping into panic. She was about to lose herself completely when—
A flash of steel cut through the dark.
Lucan's blade tore into the vines, severing them one by one. His strikes were merciless, fueled by fury. He carved a path toward her, each swing breaking the spell's grip.
"Elira!" His voice was sharp, commanding, dragging her back from the edge of despair.
The last vine snapped, and she fell forward, collapsing onto the forest floor. Before she could hit the ground fully, a strong hand caught her wrist.
Lucan pulled her up with a force that nearly knocked the breath from her lungs. She stumbled into his chest, trembling, her heart racing.
"You're safe," he said, his tone clipped but steady. His grip on her arm was unyielding, as if he refused to let her slip away again.
Elira gasped, clutching his cloak. She stared at his face, but Lucan was already busy dodging the vines, his blade flashing as he cut a path through the forest.
She thought he might be the villain in everyone's eyes — cruel, merciless, a commander who had killed countless lives. But now, he was her only salvation. The only one who could protect her from the unknown.
She should stick to him from this moment. If he treated her like a necessary object, she would gladly accept it, in exchange for her safety.
Her body trembled, exhaustion weighing her down. Her eyelids grew heavy, her mind slipping into haze. The terror of the vines, the endless chase, the pounding of her heart — it all blurred together.
"Elira," Lucan barked, sensing her falter. "Stay awake."
But she couldn't. Her grip loosened, her head drooped against his shoulder. The world spun, and before she could answer, her senses slipped away.
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Lucan cursed under his breath, tightening his hold on Elira. He urged the stallion forward, cutting through the last of the vines with ruthless precision. Suddenly, a glint caught his eye — he twisted just in time as a knife whistled past his head, embedding itself into a tree trunk with a heavy thunk.
The vines recoiled, slithering back into the earth as if retreating at the arrival of new masters. From the shadows, four men stepped into view, cloaked in crimson. The pale moonlight revealed their faces partially, their eyes glinting with malice.
Lucan's gaze hardened. He recognized the aura — the same as those he had fought the night before at the inn.
Lucan dismounted, placing Elira carefully on the stallion. He stepped forward, his sword gleaming silver under the moonlight.
"So it was you," he said coldly. "You twist the forest against us."
One of the men chuckled, his hood shadowing his grin. "Sharp eyes, commander. We wondered how long it would take you to notice."
Lucan's grip tightened on his sword. "You've made a mistake coming here."
Another cloaked figure stepped forward, his tone mocking. "Mistake? No. We were sent to ensure you never leave this forest alive. And the girl…" His gaze flicked to Elira, unconscious on the stallion. "…she is of particular interest."
Lucan's jaw clenched, his stance shifting into readiness. "You won't touch her."
The leader tilted his head, amused. "Protecting her, are you? Strange. You treat her like a burden, yet now you guard her like treasure. Which is it, commander?"
Lucan's eyes narrowed, his voice low and dangerous. "She's mine to deal with. Not yours."
The air grew tense, the moonlight casting long shadows across the clearing. The four men spread out, circling, their hands drifting to blades and strange talismans hidden beneath their cloaks.
Lucan raised his sword, his presence commanding. "If you want her, you'll have to go through me."
The leader smirked. "Gladly."
They lunged.
Lucan moved with brutal efficiency. His blade cut through the first attacker in a single arc, severing his weapon arm before the man even realized his mistake. He pivoted, driving his boot into another's chest, sending him sprawling into the dirt.
But then — something unexpected.
The fallen man didn't stay down. He rolled back to his feet with uncanny speed, his cloak flaring as he drew another blade. The others moved with equal precision, their strikes sharp, their footwork flawless.
Lucan's eyes narrowed. These aren't the same as the ones from the inn.
He swung again, but his blade met only air. The cloaked warrior had dodged, twisting aside with reflexes as sharp as his own. Another came from behind, forcing Lucan to parry in a blur of steel. Sparks flew under the moonlight, the clash echoing through the clearing.
They fought with precision. Every strike was calculated, every dodge perfectly timed. Lucan's sword cut through the air, but they slipped past his attacks, countering with deadly accuracy.
For the first time in years, Lucan felt the weight of true opposition. These men weren't fodder. They were equals.
His jaw tightened, his breath steady but sharp. So… they've sent me hunters, not pawns.
The leader laughed, circling him. "You see it now, don't you? We are not the same as those you slaughtered before. We are trained to kill commanders like you."
Lucan's grip tightened on his sword. His stance shifted, sharper, deadlier. "Then you'll learn tonight that I don't fall easily."
The moonlight glinted off steel as the battle escalated — Lucan against four warriors who matched his speed, his strength, his precision.
And for the first time, the king who terrified armies realized this fight would not be won with ease.
Lucan's eyes narrowed. These weren't the same weaklings he had cut down at the inn.
He swung, but his blade sliced only empty air. The cloaked warrior twisted aside with reflexes as sharp as his own. Another rushed from behind, forcing him into a rapid parry. Sparks flew under the moonlight, steel clashing in a rhythm that felt unnervingly familiar.
Every strike was measured, every dodge perfectly timed. For the first time in years, Lucan felt the weight of true opposition. These men weren't fodder — they were hunters.
The leader laughed, circling him. "You see it now, don't you? We are not pawns. We were trained for one purpose — to kill commanders like you."
Lucan's jaw tightened, his breath steady but sharp. So… they've sent me equals.
He shifted his stance, unleashing his most ruthless techniques. His blade blurred, cutting in arcs designed to overwhelm. One attacker staggered back, cloak torn, but another slipped in with deadly precision. Lucan caught the strike with his gauntlet, twisted, and drove his elbow into the man's jaw.
The duel became relentless. Steel rang against steel, shadows clashed under the moonlight. Lucan's efficiency was brutal — every movement honed from years of war — but the cloaked men matched him blow for blow.
One conjured a spear of shadow, thrusting it forward. Lucan sidestepped, severing the weapon mid-strike, then pivoted to slash across the man's chest. Another hurled a talisman, exploding into crimson light that forced him back a step.
He gritted his teeth, fury burning in his eyes. They fight like me. They kill like me. But they are not me.
With a roar, Lucan surged forward, his blade carving through the air. He struck with merciless precision, forcing them to retreat, step by step. The clearing became a storm of steel and shadow, the moonlight glinting off every deadly arc.
And though they matched his strength, his speed, his precision — Lucan's will was unbreakable.