The Abyss-Touched Mage

The caravan moved at a steady pace, the rhythmic creak of wagon wheels filling the morning air. Raine walked near the back, his hood pulled low, blending into the group of merchants and travelers.
He should have felt relief now that Vaelora was behind him, but the weight pressing against his ribs told him otherwise.
He wasn't safe. He hadn't escaped. Not yet.
The trees lining the road whispered in the wind, branches stretching out like reaching fingers. The travelers were quiet, lost in their own worries. Yet, beneath the idle conversations, Raine felt something else.
 
A presence.
 
At first, he ignored it, blaming paranoia. But the feeling lingered, nagging at the edge of his senses. A pressure in the air. A weight that hadn't been there before.
 
And then, he saw him.
 
A man walking several paces ahead, just another traveler among the caravan. Raine had barely noticed him before, seated by the fire the night before, blending into the crowd like any other worn-down wanderer.
But now, in the daylight, something felt off.
He was tall, lean, moving with a quiet confidence that didn't match the rest of the caravan. A thin scar ran from his jaw to his collarbone, barely noticeable unless the light hit just right. His clothes were unremarkable, his posture relaxed.
But he wasn't watching the road.
He was watching people.
Watching him.
 
Raine kept his pace steady, pretending he hadn't noticed. Running now would only draw attention. He needed to be sure.
He let the caravan move ahead slightly, lowering his gaze toward the ground, where a shallow puddle reflected the people around him.
The scarred man wasn't looking directly at him.
But he had adjusted his pace. Matched Raine's movements almost exactly.
 
A hunter.
 
Raine forced himself to stay calm. Think. He was already pushing his luck by traveling with the caravan—he had stayed too long. He needed to leave before someone connected the bounty to his face.
Ahead, two merchants spoke in hushed voices. The wind carried pieces of their conversation to him.
"—bounty posted two days ago." "Already that high? Must be someone important." "Not important. Dangerous."
Raine's stomach twisted.
The Arcanum hadn't hesitated. They had put a price on his head before he had even left the city.
Which meant they weren't just waiting for him to disappear.
They were making sure he didn't.
The realization settled in his chest like lead. Someone in this caravan had already seen the notice. And soon, someone would put the pieces together.
 
That night, the caravan stopped near the treeline, setting up camp in a small clearing. Fires were lit, casting flickering light against the trees. Travelers gathered in quiet groups, trading stories and food.
Raine stayed near the edge of the camp, his back to a thick tree trunk, watching.
Across the fire, the scarred man sat with a small knife in hand, sharpening the edge. His movements were slow, methodical. He wasn't looking at Raine.
Not directly.
But he didn't need to.
The message was clear.
I see you.
 
Raine exhaled slowly. He had made a mistake staying with the caravan. He needed to leave. Now.
But just as he was preparing to slip away, a strange sensation crawled up his spine.
Not fear.Not danger.
Something else.
The air felt heavier, thicker—like the space around him had shifted ever so slightly. A flicker of unease stirred deep in his chest.
He glanced around the camp. The fires burned low, casting long shadows. The distant hum of insects had faded.
No birds. No rustling leaves.
 
Just silence.
Raine inhaled sharply, shaking it off. He was exhausted. His mind was playing tricks on him.
Still, the unease remained.
He had to leave before it was too late.