Artemis

  They weren’t bandits. That much I knew.

  The prints were too clean. Too deep. Well-bred horses. Heavier than the wiry beasts raiders favored. These were trained for endurance, not escape. One rider had dismounted briefly, leaving a firm impression in the mud. Square heel. Narrow toe.

  Boots like that usually meant military. But this wasn’t a patrol route. And the spacing… too precise. Too deliberate.

  I rose slowly, scanning the thinning trees ahead. They hadn’t come from our direction. They weren’t tracking. They were sweeping, circling, looking.

  Meaning this wasn’t a coincidence.

  I kept my expression still, but my thoughts had already shifted, listening and calculating the space between where we stood and where steel might break through the trees. If we kept walking, we might cross their path. If they circled back, we might find more waiting.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Celeste stood a few paces back, watching me with quiet focus. She was catching on, quicker than I’d expected. But she didn’t yet understand that escape was only the first step.

  Staying free… that was the harder one.

  “We’re not going through the field,” I said, already turning back toward the trees. “Too exposed. If they spot us out there, we’re pinned.”

  She followed without protest, though I could hear the tension in her breath.

  “So what do we do?” she asked.

  “We vanish,” I said simply. “If they think we crossed into open terrain, they’ll follow. I’ll make sure they see something worth chasing.”

  I didn’t explain further. Just moved, weaving through the underbrush with the quiet precision of someone who’d done this before.

  We circled back just far enough to put a ridge between us and the meadow.

  “This is where we split,” I said, voice low. “You head south. Not along the edge, cut through the trees, but keep it steady. No running. Just quick and quiet.”

  She hesitated. “What about you?”

  “I’m going back to the creek. I’ll build a fire, fake a trail heading north. Make it look like we camped and moved that way. With any luck, they’ll take the bait.”

  I didn’t wait for protest.

  “If you hear anything, don’t turn around. Keep moving.”

  I met her eyes. “You get clear. That’s the only thing that matters.”

  I moved northeast, slipping between trees with Wind at my back, just enough to stay fast, quiet, light-footed. The forest bent around me like it recognized me.

  The creek wasn’t far. I didn’t go all the way down this time, just close enough to feel the cool shift in the air and hear the distant murmur of water threading over stone.

  Still armed. Still moving.

  The weight of my sword sat steady at my side, muffled by cloth to keep it quiet when I ran.

  I crouched low beneath a leaning pine, brushing away loose needles and clearing a space. Then, with careful movements, I stacked a tight ring of wood, dried and half-rotted. Pressing my palm over the base, I let the heat build until a tongue of flame flowed from my hand into the kindling. The fire caught fast.

  I fed it just enough to burn bright and hot, letting the blackened ends crackle, ash curling upward. It had to look used. Left in haste, not fresh. After a moment, I smothered it.

  The smoke thinned. I left footprints leading east, then crossed the stream at a shallow bend, my boots pressing into slick stone. Once on the other side, I angled north, each step deliberate. Deep enough to leave a trail.

  Let them chase ghosts.

  Nearly an hour had passed since I’d left her.

  The sun had moved behind a thicker stretch of cloud, and the light filtering through the canopy had dulled to a faint, gray-green hue. I moved slower now, backtracking with care. No trail, no sound. Angled south, my Wind Casting held tight and shallow, used only to steady my movement rather than speed it.

  Then I heard it.

  A deep, echoing crack rolled through the forest – like a tree splitting, but sharper.

  I froze, eyes scanning the canopy.

  A flare burst upward in the distance, climbing fast, trailing thick smoke that curled and bloomed as it rose. The sound of it, sharp and thunderous, rippled through the stillness.

  No mistaking it.

  They’d found something…. or someone.

  And it was coming from the same direction I was heading, the path she would’ve taken.

  I didn’t hesitate. Stealth meant nothing now.

  Wind surged around me as I sprinted, brush whipping past in a blur. Branches clawed at my arms and shoulders, but I didn’t slow. The trees blurred together, trunks, thorns.

  I ran.

  ***

  (Celeste)

  I kept moving south.

  Not fast. Just like he’d told me, quick and quiet. Never close enough to the forest’s edge. The trees felt heavier now. Not more of them, just… heavier. Every branch I brushed past felt too loud. Every twig I snapped underfoot made me flinch.

  He’d made it sound simple. Move, stay low, and keep going.

  But the silence was starting to eat at me. No birds or wind. No sound except my own breathing and the soft crunch of leaves. I paused once, just long enough to press my hand to the side of a vinewood tree and listen.

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  Nothing.

  I let out a slow breath and kept going. A low branch caught my arm as I ducked beneath it, scratching a thin line down my forearm. I barely felt it. Just wiped the blood away with my sleeve and moved on. I hadn’t looked back once, not since we’d split up. Not even when I wanted to. His voice kept replaying in my head. The steadiness in it.

  You get clear. That’s the only thing that matters.

  I hated leaving him behind. But I hated the idea of making his risk mean nothing even more.

  A sudden rustle snapped through the brush behind me. I spun – heart hammering – only to see the flick of a gray fox’s tail vanish into low thorns.

  My breath rushed out in a shaky exhale.

  I almost laughed.

  I took one more step–

  And the world cracked open.

  A sharp, echoing boom rolled through the trees like distant thunder. The ground didn’t shake, but the air did. I jerked my head up just as the flare burst into view – not far off.

  Close. Too close.

  Smoke twisted through the branches, curling fast into the sky.

  I froze.

  Eyes locked on the flare. Breath stuck in my throat.

  That wasn’t him.

  A sharp hiss cut the air beside me.

  Thunk.

  Pain flared in my thigh – not from impact, but from how close it had come. An arrow quivered in the dirt, inches from my leg. Another inch and it would’ve taken me down.

  A shallow burn bloomed across my thigh, followed by the slow, unmistakable warmth of blood trailing down my leg.

  I didn’t wait. I turned and ran.

  Branches tore at my arms. Roots clawed at my boots. The ground tilted sharply, but I didn’t care. I just kept moving, dodging trees, leaping over fallen limbs.

  Shouts rang out behind me. Two voices. Both male.

  Another arrow shot past, this one flying wide. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. My heart was thundering loud enough to drown out thought.

  The sound of hooves slowly got louder. They were closing the distance. The trees around the area weren’t nearly as dense as the inner parts of the forest. I pushed harder, lungs burning, legs screaming.

  Then the air shifted. A low, rising rush of heat pressed against my side.

  I threw myself sideways – just as fire exploded against the trunk where I’d been. Bark split with a crack. Embers spat across the underbrush.

  A Fire Caster.

  That had to be the one who’d launched the flare.

  I rolled hard and kept moving, the scorched scent clinging to my throat.

  Keep going. Just keep going.

  I contemplated casting Light, just enough to blind them, maybe slow them down. But with a Fire Caster this close, I couldn’t afford to turn. Not without exposing my back and risking another arrow – or worse.

  The trees blurred past in streaks of green and brown. My boots skidded over slick moss stone, nearly sending me crashing. I caught myself on a low branch, breath ragged, but then pushed forward again.

  Another fireball of heat rushed past me. This one was closer. I felt the bite near my arm.

  They’re too close, I needed to do something.

  A flicker of light lit up the downed tree behind me. Fire reflected off the dried branches.

  They were herding me harder, just like prey.

  A sharp incline appeared ahead, rocks jutting up like broken teeth and roots twisted through the slope. Climbing it would leave me exposed. Skirting meant slowing down.

  Neither option was good.

  I picked the one that might not kill me outright.

  As I started up the incline, half running, half climbing, while my fingers clawed for anything to grip, something slammed into my back.

  Not fire. There was no heat.

  Just force – a crushing wall of air.

  The impact stole the breath from my lungs. My feet left the ground.

  I hit hard, shoulder first, then tumbled back down. Rocks scraped skin and the roots tore at my clothes. The world spun, flipped. My head cracked against something unyielding before I landed flat, chest-first, the air wrenched from me.

  For a heartbeat, I couldn’t move.

  Couldn’t think.

  Pain bloomed sharp and immediate along my ribs.

  I gasped, hand flying to my chest, and Cast broad and unfocused.

  It wasn’t efficient. But it was effective in providing a raw sweeping Healing throughout my body. Enough to dull the worst of it.

  The pain eased. Not gone, but bearable. Breath came easier. My arms stopped shaking. I pushed to my knees. A shadow stepped into view.

  A man.

  Broad-chested and tall. Cloaked and standing a short distance away. His bow was raised and had an arrow trained directly at me.

  ***

  (Artemis)

  The flare had long since faded, but the smoke still clung to the trees. Thin wisps trailing through the canopy, barely visible now.

  I followed the scent first. There was burned bark on a nearby tree. The sap was still hissing from the tree trunk split clean from the heat.

  Fire Casting.

  I slowed just enough to read the signs and follow the trail. Scorched leaves. Twisted vines still smoldering.

  Deep grooves where hooves had kicked up earth. They weren’t too far.

  A sudden rush of compressed air.

  The sound of Wind Casting. Loud enough to echo and sharp enough to feel the air vibrate.

  I broke through the last of the trees just in time to see her tumble down a rocky slope – arms curling in, body twisting as she slammed hard into the ground below.

  One of them, tall and broad-shouldered with sun-browned skin, dismounted quickly. He slung a crossbow from his saddle and approached her while she still struggled to rise.

  Behind him, still on his horse, sat a wiry, narrow-framed man.

  From this distance, I couldn’t tell which one was the Fire Caster. But the shockwave I’d heard – that had been Wind.

  He’s the one who knocked her down.

  There were only a few yards between me and the mounted rider.

  He hadn’t seen me. Not yet.

  I drew my sword and moved fast.

  One clean strike – low and fast across the neck.

  His head snapped back, then dropped before he could react.

  The bowman turned. Eyes wide.

  Shock flickered there just for a second. Then his expression hardened.

  “Seven hells,” he spat.

  He hadn’t expected backup.

  Good.

  Celeste moved.

  While his attention shifted to me, she raised her hand and cast. A burst of Light flared from her palm, white-hot.

  He reacted faster still.

  Twisting away, his eyes narrowed as he threw his arm in front of his face and pivoted hard to the side. The Light narrowly missed.

  He didn’t waste a breath.

  Backing off, he fired an arrow at me – quick, with a practiced hand. I deflected it with a twist of my blade. Before it even hit the ground, he’d already thrown his bow aside.

  His hand swept outward. The wind answered.

  A crescent of compressed air curved through the space between us, cutting low toward Celeste in a clean arc.

  The Wind that he Cast was not just force, but a blade.

  The Wind Blade struck before she could move.

  It sliced clean across her upper arm – deep enough to tear through skin and muscle.

  Celeste screamed. A raw, guttural sound.

  Blood poured down her arm in a sudden rush, dark against the fabric. She stumbled back, hand clutching at the wound, teeth gritted hard.

  I didn’t wait.

  I surged forward and cast mid-stride. Ice formed into a sharp and jagged edge and hurled toward the Wind Caster. A spear of frozen air, aimed straight and fast.

  He ducked low. More than that, he twisted his hand and flung a burst of wind sideways.

  The ice shard veered slightly off course, caught in the gust. It smashed harmlessly into a tree just behind him, exploding into sharp, glinting fragments.

  He was already moving again, fast, focused, and unshaken.

  The sound of hooves pounded through the trees behind me.

  More are coming.

  I didn’t look back. I didn’t need to.

  The ground was starting to tremble with their approach with no time to guess how many. It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t’ finish this one now.

  I hurled another shard of ice toward the Wind Caster. This one was angled low, meant to clip him at the knee. He spun away again, just ahead of it, his wind shifting the trajectory off-course by a handspan.

  I used that moment to move.

  Wind surged around my legs as I cast, not to attack, not yet. I let it push me forward, close the distance between me and Celeste.

  She had picked herself up to one knee, her hand glowing faint with the telltale shimmer of Healing over her injured arm.

  Blood still ran down it, but she held on.

  I reached her.

  She was still kneeling. Face pale from the blood loss, but she looked up the moment I dropped beside her.

  “I’ve got you,” I muttered.

  The pounding of hooves closed in.

  Two riders burst through the trees. Both dismounted before their horses even stopped moving. Dirt kicked up around their boots as they moved fast.

  The Wind Caster we’d been fighting regrouped with them, casting a glance my way before falling into position beside his allies.

  Their eyes went to the headless body slumped near the slope.

  A beat of silence passed.

  They spoke in low voices among themselves, then their expression shifted. Shock at first, then fury.

  “He’s dead,” one of them growled, already reaching for his weapon.

  Another pair of riders rode in just behind, slowing only long enough to dismount and close the gap.

  That made five in total now. Each armed. Possibly all Casters. They didn’t shout. Didn’t posture.

  They moved with grim, practiced intent. The Wind Caster relayed what had happened, to the new arrivals.

  Five against two. One of us wounded.

  I’d fought all kinds of people. These were professional bounty hunters through and through.

  Let them make the first move. I’d make the last.