The night bled into silence.
Only the sound of wind cutting through the trees broke the stillness as Kale, Elric, and Lyra pressed deeper into the forest.
Elric's limp had grown worse, but he refused to stop. The light of his staff flickered weakly — the runes drained from the earlier fight. Lyra stumbled beside Kale, her silver hair stained dark with dried blood.
They had been walking for hours.
Finally, Elric stopped beneath an ancient oak whose roots twisted like claws above the ground. "Here," he said, dropping his staff. "We rest."
Kale glanced over his shoulder. "You said they'd find us."
"They will," Elric replied grimly. "But they'll expect us to keep running. Hunters track fear, Kale. If we stay and mask our mana, we might get the jump on them."
Lyra slumped against the tree, smirking faintly. "Bold. I like it."
"You can barely stand," Elric muttered.
"Doesn't mean I can't fight," she shot back, revealing her fangs in a lazy grin.
Kale watched them argue and said nothing. His thoughts were elsewhere — on the witches' screams, the way his hands glowed before the light swallowed everything.
He flexed his fingers. Even now, they faintly trembled.
"You enjoyed it," the voice murmured inside him. "The rush. The power. The fear in their eyes."
Stop.
"Why pretend? You were born to be feared."
Kale clenched his fists. The mark on his wrist — the seal his father had made — flickered once, faintly, as if warning him.
Elric caught the glow. "It's weakening again."
"I know," Kale said quietly. "But I can't fix it."
"I can," Elric replied. "But you won't like it."
Lyra tilted her head. "What kind of spell are we talking about?"
Elric ignored her and turned to Kale. "To strengthen the seal, I have to draw on your mana directly. It's painful — and risky. If I miscalculate, I could burn your heart out from the inside."
Kale met his gaze without flinching. "Do it."
Elric sighed. "You really are your father's son."
He raised his staff, tracing a circle of light in the air. The symbols shimmered, connecting into a glowing ring. "Sit."
Kale obeyed, kneeling inside the circle. Lyra watched silently, curiosity flickering in her crimson eyes.
Elric began to chant. The symbols pulsed, each one resonating with a low hum. Kale felt it almost immediately — like invisible threads pulling at his chest, his veins, his core.
He gasped, gripping the earth. The light turned from gold to deep blue. His seal ignited, runes glowing like fire beneath his skin.
"Let me free," the voice hissed, furious. "He's trying to cage us again."
Kale's breath came in ragged bursts. "Elric— it's fighting back!"
"Hold still!"
Pain seared through him. The air thickened with magic — old, powerful, alive. The forest around them shivered.
Then, in a single flash, it was over.
Elric staggered back, panting. "It's done. The seal will hold — for now."
Kale collapsed forward, sweat dripping from his brow. His chest burned, but the pressure inside him had quieted… mostly.
Lyra stepped closer, crouching beside him. "You're lucky you didn't explode."
Kale managed a faint smile. "Thanks for the comfort."
She shrugged. "You humans always like to play with things that can kill you."
Before Elric could respond, the forest went silent. Completely.
Even the wind stopped.
Lyra's head snapped up. Her pupils narrowed into slits. "They're here."
Kale reached for his staff — but it wasn't witches that emerged from the shadows this time.
It was worse.
A line of figures appeared at the edge of the clearing — tall, armored in black steel marked with glowing runes. Their faces were hidden behind bone-white masks shaped like wolves.
The Witch Hunters.