Adventure, I learned quickly, was mostly just walking until your feet bled while the world tried to kill you.
In the stories the village bards told, heroes rode majestic horses across sunny plains, their cloaks billowing in the wind. They camped under starlight, ate roasted venison, and woke up refreshed to slay dragons.
They didn't mention the mud. They didn't mention the rot. They didn't mention the way wet wool smelled like a wet dog that had died three days ago.
We were twelve hours out from Verdwood, deep in the wild forest that stood between our home and the northern mines. The sun was trying to rise, but the roof of leaves was so thick it just turned the world a bruised, gloomy grey.
And it was raining. Not a clean, washing rain, but a cold, miserable drizzle that soaked through wool and leather and settled into the bone.
"My boots are wet," Lysara said. It was the tenth time she had said it in the last hour. She stepped over a rotting log, grimacing as her foot sank into slime.
"My boots are wet, too," Kaela grunted. She was walking point, hacking at a wall of briars with her short sword. She was favoring her left side—the side where the bear had cracked her ribs. She tried to hide it, but I saw the way she winced every time she swung the blade.
"Everyone's boots are wet," I said from the rear. "Keep moving. If we stop, we get cold. If we get cold, the sickness sets in."
I wasn't just talking about getting the sniffles. I was talking about me.
The Hollow in my chest was awake.
Back in the village, I was surrounded by heat. Hearths in every house, mana-lamps in the square, the huge pulsing energy of the Ward. I had been swimming in a warm ocean.
Out here, the ocean was gone.
The forest had magic—I could see the Silver Seam winding through the tree roots and hanging in the moss—but it was thin. Wild. It didn't pool like it did in the village. It was spread out, hard to catch.
The magic I had stolen from the Ward was gone, burned up by the hike and the cold night. The Heat-Stones in my pockets were fading, their friction lines worn smooth.
I was starting to shiver. Just a little. A shake in my hands that I hid by gripping the straps of my pack.
"Ground is getting soft," Kaela called back, her voice low. "Mud could slide on the ridges. We stick to the tree line. Roots hold the dirt."
"Agreed," I said. "Keep an eye on the ravine. If the water rises, we lose the lower path."
We had spent three years in Master Dren's training ground. He hadn't just taught us how to hit things; he taught us how not to die before we got to the fight. The woods are your armor, he used to say. Wear them.
We covered ten miles before the light started to fade. The cold was biting now, seeping through the oiled canvas of our cloaks.
"Halt," Kaela signaled, raising a fist.
We stopped in a thick cluster of spruce trees. The ground was covered in a carpet of needles, relatively dry despite the rain.
"We camp here," Kaela said. "Good cover. The wind is blocked from the north."
"No fire," I reminded them. "The smoke will give us away."
"I know," Kaela grunted. "We dig in. We build a nest."
We dropped our packs and went to work. We didn't need to talk; we knew the drill. We weren't helpless kids lost in the woods; we were a squad.
Kaela cleared the ground, kicking away wet leaves to get to the dry earth. Lysara gathered armfuls of fern and spruce branches for bedding.
I built the frame.
I found a sturdy branch about six feet long. I propped one end against a tree trunk, making a low slope.
I pulled my knife. I didn't just tie the support sticks with rope; I carved notches. Simple, locking joints that held the wood together tight without needing lashings that could slip in the wet.
Cut. Snap. Lock.
Within ten minutes, we had a ribcage of wood.
"Cover it," I ordered.
Kaela and Lysara piled the branches onto the frame, starting at the bottom and working up like shingles on a roof. They piled it thick—two feet of pine needles and leaves. It looked like a natural mound of forest floor.
We crawled inside. It was tight—barely enough room for three ten-year-olds to lie shoulder to shoulder—but that was the point. Less air to heat.
We laid our wool blankets on the bed of ferns.
"Dry," Lysara said, sounding satisfied as she checked the roof. "This will keep the warmth in."
"It's cozy," Kaela said, wringing out her hair. "Like a bear den. Without the bear."
We ate a cold dinner—dried meat and hard bread. It tasted like sawdust, but it filled the stomach.
"I'm thirsty," Kaela said, shaking her waterskin. "Empty."
"Me too," Lysara said.
I checked mine. Dry.
"River water is poison," Lysara said, looking at the black stream visible through the trees. "Mining runoff. It's full of metal sickness."
"We clean it," I said.
I crawled out of the shelter. I gathered materials. A piece of birch bark rolled into a cone. A strip of cloth torn from my tunic. Sand. Charcoal from an old lightning-struck stump.
I came back inside.
"Hold this," I told Kaela, handing her the cone.
I packed the cloth at the bottom. Then the charcoal. Then the sand. Then moss on top.
"Pour the river water through," I said.
Kaela poured a cup of the black water into the moss. It trickled down through the layers. The moss caught the big dirt. The sand caught the small dirt. The charcoal caught the poison—it grabbed the bad stuff and held it tight.
Clear water dripped out the bottom into Lysara's cup.
"Sump trick," I said, watching it drip. "My mom taught me. Takes the taste of death out."
We filled the skins. It took time, but it kept our hands busy.
"Ren," Kaela said, watching me work. "You're shaking."
She wasn't asking about the water. She was looking at my hands. They were trembling violently now that I wasn't moving.
"I'm fine," I lied.
"You're cold," she said. "The Hollow is eating you."
"I have the Heat-Stones," I said, pulling one from my pocket. It was barely lukewarm. The runes were dead.
"Give me your hand," Kaela said.
She took my hand and put it against her neck, right under her jaw. Her skin was burning hot. Fireborn blood ran warmer than most humans.
"Take it," she commanded. "Just a sip. Fill the tank."
I hesitated. "Kaela..."
"We need you sharp, Ren. If we get jumped, I need you moving, not shaking. Drink."
I closed my eyes. I opened the gate a crack. I pulled the heat.
It rushed into me, steadying my core. It felt like drinking hot soup. I sighed, the tension leaving my shoulders.
"Thanks," I whispered.
"Don't mention it," she said, releasing me. "Get some sleep. I'll take first watch."
"I'll take second," Lysara said.
"I'll take third," I finished.
We slept in shifts. It was a professional, disciplined camp. We were doing everything right.
But nature doesn't care about plans.
I woke up to the sound of roaring water.
It was my shift. The rain had stopped, but the wind had picked up. And somewhere nearby, the river was angry.
"Up," I hissed, shaking the girls. "Move. Now."
They woke instantly. Hands on weapons. No grogginess.
"What is it?" Kaela whispered.
"Flash flood," I said. "The creek below us. It jumped the banks."
We scrambled out of the shelter.
The forest floor was a sheet of moving water. It wasn't deep yet—ankle high—but it was fast. And it was rising.
"Uphill!" Kaela yelled. "Get to the ridge!"
We grabbed our packs and ran. We splashed through the freezing mud, climbing up the slope toward the high ground.
We reached the top of the ridge, breathing hard. Below us, our campsite was gone. The spruce tree we had built against was underwater. A wall of brown sludge was tearing through the gully, snapping trees like twigs. The sound was like a monster chewing bones.
"That was close," Lysara breathed, clutching her staff.
"Too close," Kaela said. "We need to cross. The mines are on the other side of that water."
I looked at the river. It was a monster now. Brown, churning, carrying boulders and logs.
"The bridge is gone," I said, pointing to the shattered pieces of a wooden crossing downstream.
"We have to jump," Kaela said. She pointed to a bunch of big rocks that were still above the water line. "Step stones. It's risky, but it's the only way."
"If we slip, we drown," Lysara said, her face pale.
"If we stay here, the mercenaries find us," I said. "We move."
We moved to the edge. The water smelled of wet earth and iron.
"I go first," I said. "I'll tie the rope."
I tied the rope around my waist. I handed the other end to Kaela.
"If I go in, pull," I said.
I stepped onto the first rock. It was slick with moss. I balanced. I jumped to the second.
I made it across. I tied the rope to a birch tree.
"Lysara! You first!"
She came across, hand over hand on the rope. She slipped once, her boot hitting the water, but she pulled herself up. Safe.
"Kaela!"
Kaela stepped onto the rock. She moved confidently. She was the best athlete of us.
But the rock wasn't stable. The flood had washed away the mud beneath it.
As she landed, the rock rolled.
Kaela fell.
She hit the water. The rope snapped tight.
"Hold her!" I screamed, grabbing the line.
The current hit her like a hammer. It dragged her downstream, the rope pulling tight against my chest. I dug my boots into the mud.
Anchor, I told myself. Be a wall.
I hauled her in. It took everything I had. My muscles burned. The Hollow roared, demanding fuel for the work. I fed it my own strength, burning up inside.
Kaela crawled up the bank, coughing water. She was soaked, shivering, and holding her side.
"Ribs," she gasped. "Hit a rock."
"We need to dry off," Lysara said, her teeth chattering. "The freezing sickness will set in fast."
"No fire," I said. "We keep moving. Walking makes heat."
Then the bushes rustled.
It wasn't the wind.
We froze. Kaela drew her sword, wincing. Lysara raised her staff. I pulled my knife.
Three wolves stepped onto the path.
They weren't majestic. They were starving. Scavenger Wolves, mangy and desperate. They smelled the blood from Kaela's scraped arm. They saw three wet, small children.
Dinner.
"Formation," Kaela barked.
We snapped into a triangle, backs together.
"They're circling," I said. "Pack hunting."
"I'll take the big one," Kaela said. "Ren, left. Lysara, right."
The big wolf lunged.
It went for Kaela. It knew she was hurt.
"No!" I shouted.
Kaela tried to bring her sword up, but she was too slow. The wolf slammed into her shield, knocking her backward into the mud. It snapped at her face.
Kaela screamed, shoving the shield into its throat, holding the teeth inches from her nose.
The other two wolves charged.
One went for Lysara. She panicked. She thrust her staff forward, shouting a spell. A burst of light flared—Flash—blinding the wolf for a second. It yelped and scrambled back.
The third wolf hit me.
It hit me high, paws on my shoulders, driving me back into the mud. Jaws snapped at my face. Hot breath. Rotting meat.
I got my forearm under its throat. I held it back.
Drink it, the Hollow whispered. It's right there. Warm blood. Easy life.
I could feel its heart beating against my arm. I could end this in one second. I could open the gate and turn this wolf into dust. I could be warm again.
Do it, the urge screamed. Be the monster.
I looked at Kaela. She was fighting, bleeding, relying on her skill. I looked at Lysara. She was using her head to keep the beast away.
No, I thought. I am not a monster. I am a warrior.
I didn't drain.
I roared. I shoved the wolf up. I used my legs—my enhanced, trained legs—and kicked it in the gut.
The wolf flew back, whining.
I scrambled up. I grabbed a fist-sized rock from the riverbed.
The wolf charged again.
I sidestepped. I swung the rock.
CRACK.
I hit it right behind the ear. The wolf dropped like a sack of stones. Stunned.
The other two wolves looked at their fallen packmate. They looked at Kaela's bloody sword. They looked at Lysara's staff.
They turned and ran.
I stood over the stunned wolf. I was panting. My hands were shaking. But they weren't glowing. There were no black veins.
"Is it dead?" Lysara asked.
"Asleep," I said. "It'll wake up with a headache."
Kaela limped over. She slapped me on the back.
"Nice hit, Ren. Very... heavy."
"Simple," I corrected, dropping the rock. "But it worked."
We stood there in the rain, breathing hard. We were wet, hurt, and freezing.
But we had won. And we had done it without the dark magic.
"Let's go," I said, offering Kaela my shoulder to lean on. "Riverholt is just over that ridge. We're almost there."
We walked on. We weren't just kids playing in the woods anymore. We were survivors.
And we were coming for Kian.