Chapter 9: The Edge of the Wilds

By the time they reached the edge of the Wilds, the trees had thinned, giving way to rocky terrain and sparse vegetation. The forest loomed behind them like a dark shroud, its oppressive weight finally lifting as open sky stretched before them. Serenya inhaled deeply, the fresh breeze a welcome change from the suffocating air of the Wilds.

Drenic paused at the crest of a hill, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. In the distance, faint trails of smoke rose from what looked like a cluster of cottages nestled in a valley below.

“There it is,” he said, gesturing toward the village.

Serenya followed his gaze, relief washing over her. “Finally,” she murmured, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

“We’ll head there, restock, and figure out our next move,” Drenic said, starting down the path.

“Do you think it’s safe?”

Drenic smirked. “Nothing’s ever safe, Serenya. But I’d rather take my chances with farmers and merchants than whatever else is stalking us in the Wilds.”

She didn’t argue.

The village, known as Torwyn, was small and quiet, its cottages clustered around a central square. A stone well stood at the square’s center, surrounded by a handful of stalls where vendors sold bread, dried meats, and simple wares.

As Serenya and Drenic entered, the villagers turned to watch them with guarded expressions. Their clothes were plain, their hands rough from labor, and their eyes filled with suspicion.

“Friendly place,” Drenic muttered under his breath.

“They’re wary of strangers,” Serenya said, pulling her hood lower.

“Wary’s better than hostile. Let’s keep it that way.”

They approached a small inn near the edge of the square, its sign swinging gently in the breeze. The faded lettering read The Willow’s Rest.

“This’ll do,” Drenic said, opening the door and stepping inside.

The inn’s common room was modest, with a few wooden tables and a crackling hearth. The innkeeper, a wiry man with graying hair, looked up as they entered.

“Rooms?” he asked, his tone clipped.

“One,” Drenic replied, tossing a silver coin onto the counter.

The innkeeper nodded, sliding the coin into his pocket. “Upstairs. Second on the right.”

Drenic turned to Serenya. “Go settle in. I’ll handle supplies.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a faint smirk. “I’m harder to kill than I look.”

Serenya hesitated but nodded, heading up the narrow staircase.

The room was small, with a single bed, a rickety chair, and a window overlooking the square. Serenya set her satchel on the floor and sank onto the bed, the exhaustion of the past days catching up to her.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the world was quiet. No shadowbeasts, no mercenaries, no whispers of dark magic.

She allowed herself to breathe, her hand drifting to the pendant beneath her cloak.

But the peace was short-lived.

A knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts.

“Drenic?” she called, rising cautiously.

The knock came again, more insistent.

She opened the door a crack, her heart pounding. A young boy stood on the other side, his clothes patched and dirty, his face smudged with grime.

“Are you the lady from the Wilds?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Serenya stiffened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The boy glanced over his shoulder nervously before stepping closer. “They’re coming,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but… strange men came to the village last night. They asked about a woman in a cloak. They said she was dangerous.”

Serenya’s stomach dropped.

“Go,” she said quickly. “Get out of here.”

The boy hesitated, then nodded and ran down the hall.

Serenya shut the door, her mind racing. She grabbed her satchel and moved to the window, scanning the square below.

Drenic was walking toward the inn, a small bundle in his arms. Behind him, two cloaked figures emerged from an alley, their movements deliberate and predatory.

“Drenic,” she whispered, panic gripping her.

Drenic noticed the figures a moment too late. One of them called out, their voice sharp and commanding.

“Stop right there!”

Drenic turned, his hand already going to his dagger. His smirk was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating expression.

“Let’s not do this in the middle of the village,” he said, his tone light but firm. “No need to scare the locals.”

The figures didn’t respond. One of them drew a blade, its edge gleaming in the sunlight.

“Fantastic,” Drenic muttered.

From the window, Serenya watched as the tension in the square escalated. She couldn’t stay hidden—not this time.

She pushed the window open and climbed onto the narrow ledge, her heart pounding as she balanced precariously above the street.

“Don’t think,” she whispered to herself. “Just move.”

With a deep breath, she jumped.

She landed hard, the impact jarring her knees, but she didn’t stop. Serenya sprinted toward the square, her cloak billowing behind her.

“Drenic!” she shouted, drawing the attention of the cloaked figures.

Drenic’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

The figures turned toward her, their blades gleaming. One of them raised a hand, dark magic swirling around their fingers.

Serenya skidded to a stop, her hand going to the pendant. The magic inside her surged, raw and desperate.

“Show me what to do,” she whispered, her vision blurring.

The world shifted around her. In her mind’s eye, she saw the fight unfolding—Drenic disarming one attacker, the other lunging toward her. She saw herself moving, grabbing a discarded plank from a nearby cart and using it to block the strike.

The vision faded, leaving her gasping for breath.

“Drenic, left!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

He didn’t question her. As one of the attackers lunged, Drenic sidestepped, driving his dagger into the man’s side.

The second attacker charged toward Serenya, their blade aimed for her chest. She dove to the side, grabbing the plank from the cart just as she’d seen in her vision. The blade struck the wood, splintering it but missing her by inches.

Drenic moved behind the attacker, his dagger flashing. Within moments, the fight was over.

The villagers had scattered, their faces pale with fear. Drenic wiped the blood from his blade, his expression grim.

“That was reckless,” he said, turning to Serenya.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, her voice trembling.

Drenic sighed, his smirk returning faintly. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

“Who were they?” she asked, her eyes darting to the fallen attackers.

“More mercenaries,” Drenic said, crouching to search one of the bodies. He pulled a small, black coin from the man’s pocket.

“What is that?”

“Payment,” Drenic said, holding it up. The coin was etched with runes, its surface cold and smooth. “Whoever hired them has deep pockets—and powerful magic.”

Serenya’s stomach twisted. “They’re not going to stop, are they?”

“No,” Drenic said quietly. He stood, his gaze hard. “But neither are we.”

As they left the village, the Wilds fading into the distance behind them, Serenya couldn’t shake the weight of the coin in her mind. It was a reminder of what was chasing them—and how far their enemies would go.

She clutched the pendant beneath her cloak, its pulse steady against her skin.

“We’ll find them,” she said softly, more to herself than to Drenic. “And we’ll stop them.”

Drenic glanced at her, his smirk faint. “That’s the spirit, Oracle.”

The road stretched ahead, and the fight was far from over.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***