Chapter 11: Shadows Unveiled

The air grew colder as they continued their journey, the rolling hills giving way to craggy cliffs that loomed high above the winding road. The terrain was barren and unwelcoming, the kind of place where travelers rarely lingered.

Serenya kept close to Drenic, her eyes darting to every shadow that stretched across the rocky path. She gripped her cloak tightly, the faint pulse of her pendant grounding her as she tried to push back the fear threatening to consume her.

“How much farther to Vreyne?” she asked, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

“Not far,” Drenic replied, his tone clipped.

He was limping slightly, his injured arm still bound from their earlier fight. The salve she’d applied had slowed the bleeding, but it was clear the wound still pained him.

“You should rest,” Serenya said, her brow furrowed with concern.

“I’ll rest when we’re not being hunted,” he muttered, his sharp eyes scanning the cliffs above.

By the time they reached the outskirts of Vreyne, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting the village in long, eerie shadows. Unlike Torwyn, this settlement seemed to cling to life by sheer stubbornness. The houses were crude structures of stone and wood, their roofs patched with uneven strips of thatch. A single dirt road wound through the center of the village, flanked by shuttered shops and a small tavern that spilled faint light into the darkness.

“This place looks… rough,” Serenya remarked, her voice low.

Drenic smirked faintly. “Rough is good. Rough doesn’t ask questions.”

They approached the tavern, its sign swinging precariously in the cold wind. The name, The Crooked Thorn, was etched into the wood, though the letters were faded and worn.

Drenic pushed the door open, and they stepped inside.

The common room was dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of stale ale and damp wood. A few patrons sat scattered at the tables, their faces shadowed by the flickering light of a single lantern hanging from the ceiling.

Drenic approached the barkeep, a burly man with a crooked nose and an even crookeder scowl.

“Room,” Drenic said, sliding a few coins across the counter.

The barkeep eyed him warily, then nodded toward the stairs at the back of the room. “Second door on the left. Don’t cause trouble.”

Drenic smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Serenya followed him up the narrow staircase, her gaze lingering on the patrons below. A few of them were watching her—silent, predatory.

The room was little more than a box with a bed and a single chair, but it was enough. Drenic shut the door behind them, bolting it before collapsing onto the bed with a groan.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Serenya said, setting her satchel on the chair.

“Better than the alternative,” he replied, wincing as he shifted his injured arm.

She moved closer, her worry outweighing her irritation. “Let me see.”

“It’s fine—”

“Let me see,” she repeated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Drenic sighed but didn’t resist as she carefully unwrapped the bandage. The wound was red and swollen, the edges crusted with dried blood.

“This isn’t healing properly,” Serenya said, frowning.

“Magic beasts tend to leave lasting marks,” Drenic said lightly, though his smirk didn’t reach his eyes.

Serenya pulled a small jar of salve from her satchel and began applying it to the wound. Her hands were steady, but her mind raced.

“You’ve been quiet,” Drenic said, breaking the silence.

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“About the people who sent that coin,” she admitted. “About why they want me so badly.”

Drenic watched her carefully. “And?”

“And I don’t have answers,” she said, frustration creeping into her voice. “But I think I know where to find them.”

Drenic raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“There’s someone I need to find,” Serenya said, her voice steady. “Someone who might know the truth.”

“Who?”

She hesitated. “My old mentor—Vaylen Astred.”

Drenic frowned. “The one who trained you in the tower?”

“Yes,” Serenya said. “He was exiled years ago, but if anyone understands what’s happening, it’s him.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I have to find him.”

Drenic sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Sounds like a long shot.”

“It’s the only shot we have,” Serenya said firmly.

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of raised voices coming from downstairs. Drenic tensed, his hand drifting to his dagger.

“Stay here,” he said, moving toward the door.

“What? No—”

“Stay here,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Serenya frowned but didn’t argue as he slipped out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

The common room was tense when Drenic descended the stairs. A group of strangers had entered, their heavy boots leaving muddy tracks on the wooden floor. They were armed, their cloaks hiding most of their features, but their movements were deliberate and menacing.

“Looking for someone,” the leader said, his voice cold and clipped.

The barkeep didn’t flinch. “We don’t take kindly to trouble here.”

The leader’s lips curled into a sneer. “We’re not here to cause trouble. Just asking questions.”

Drenic slipped into the shadows near the stairwell, his sharp eyes watching the exchange.

The leader reached into his cloak, pulling out a piece of parchment. He held it up, revealing a crude drawing of Serenya’s face.

“This girl,” he said. “Seen her?”

The barkeep glanced at the drawing, then shook his head. “Can’t say I have.”

The leader narrowed his eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” the barkeep replied, his tone steady.

The leader’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before he tucked the parchment back into his cloak. He turned to his companions, jerking his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

As the group filed out, Drenic slipped back upstairs, his mind racing.

Serenya was pacing the room when he returned, her anxiety palpable.

“What’s going on?” she asked as soon as he entered.

“We need to leave,” Drenic said, bolting the door behind him.

“Why? What happened?”

“They’re here,” he said grimly. “And they’re looking for you.”

Serenya’s stomach twisted. “How did they find us?”

Drenic shrugged. “Does it matter? Pack your things. We’re leaving now.”

The night was cold as they slipped out the back of the tavern, their footsteps muffled against the dirt road. Drenic led the way, his dagger drawn and his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of pursuit.

Serenya clutched her satchel tightly, her heart racing with every step.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

“Anywhere but here,” Drenic replied.

They moved quickly, their breaths visible in the frigid air. The road stretched ahead, dark and uncertain, but Serenya forced herself to focus on the present.

She didn’t know where they were headed or what awaited them, but one thing was clear: their enemies were relentless, and they wouldn’t stop until she was caught—or worse.

The pendant beneath her cloak pulsed faintly, a steady reminder of the power she carried and the burden it brought.

“I won’t let them take me,” she murmured, more to herself than to Drenic.

His smirk returned, faint but resolute. “They’ll have to go through me first.”

As they disappeared into the night, the shadows seemed to stir behind them, a reminder that the hunt was far from over.

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