The Song of the Shadows

The days melted into a mosaic of pain and survival for Kaelen.

His journey toward Grisel was a silent march—

a penance through hostile nature.

The whispers in his mind were now constant companions,

twisting birdsong into wails

and rustling leaves into mocking laughter.

His silver-white hair and amethyst eyes had become a beacon in the gloom of the forest,

drawing curious or fearful glances from any soul who crossed his path.

He no longer bothered to hide them.

Subtlety was a luxury.

---

The hand axe he had taken from the bandits had become an extension of his arm.

Each swing, each strike, executed with cold, emotionless efficiency.

Killing no longer nauseated him;

it was a necessity, a simple equation:

them or him.

The memory of Lígia and Master Elías had transformed—

no longer a paralyzing torment,

but a silent engine,

a constant reminder of the price of weakness.

---

One afternoon, while pushing through dense underbrush,

the air filled with the unmistakable stench of fresh blood—

and the desperate horn of a wagon.

Kaelen froze, senses sharpened by madness and instinct.

The voices in his head whispered:

"Wagon! Food! Danger!"

He slipped silently through the bushes, drawing closer to the sound.

---

What he saw was an ambush.

A merchant's wagon—

overturned and shattered—

lay at the roadside.

Around it, two massive Oni with dark gray skin,

short and thick horns,

moved with brutal efficiency.

They had killed the guards—

and now looted the wreck.

But they were not alone.

A man fought among them.

---

He was a warrior, not a merchant.

His leather armor was basic,

but he moved with a speed and grace rare in humans.

His weapon: a broad blade,

almost a short sword,

its handle wrapped in leather.

Though Kaelen didn't know it yet,

it was a Roadguard Machete—

a common weapon among the few who dared patrol the paths between settlements.

This man didn't fight for spoils.

He fought from desperation.

---

Kaelen's voices intensified.

"Let him die. More for you. He's a stranger."

But something—

a lingering spark of old humanity

or cold, calculating logic—

held him back.

The Oni were strong.

And he was only one.

Two Oni… was a problem.

---

As the warrior dodged a hammer blow that would've pulverized a horse,

Kaelen made his choice.

He leapt from hiding,

his hand axe whistling through the air.

No cry, no warning.

His target: the back of the nearest Oni.

The strike wasn't fatal—

but deep.

The Oni roared in pain and fury.

---

The warrior turned, startled,

his emerald green eyes widening in surprise.

Kaelen didn't wait.

"Together," he growled, motioning toward the other Oni.

The warrior—

who Kaelen would later learn was named Kael—

nodded with sudden resolve.

---

Kael, the Roadguard Warrior:

A man in his thirties—

athletic, with scars across his bearded face.

His reddish-brown hair was always slightly messy.

His emerald eyes held both exhaustion and unyielding will.

He had lost his family to a Shadow Fae raid years ago—

and had since dedicated his life to protecting the few innocents still traveling the roads.

He was honorable in his own way,

but also hardened by survival—

skeptical of everyone and everything.

Loyalty was earned through blood and sweat.

---

The fight against the Oni was brutal.

Their skin was as tough as ancient oak bark,

and their hammer blows could crush bone.

Kaelen moved like a shadow—

his senses sharpened by the madness that allowed him to anticipate attacks.

He saw their weak points—

micro-fractures in their natural armor.

The voices shouted instructions:

"Joint! Behind the knee! Blind it! Now!"

Not tactics—

but visceral impulses.

As if madness whispered the truth of motion and pain.

---

Kael, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of precise strikes.

His machete sliced and stabbed—

aiming for the throat or Achilles tendons.

Together, they were an unlikely team:

Kael's brute strength and pragmatic honor,

against Kaelen's deranged agility and distorted vision.

---

At last—

with Kael's savage war cry

and Kaelen's desperate blow to the neck—

the two Oni fell.

Their massive bodies crashed to the ground.

And the silence that followed…

was almost deafening.

---

Kael leaned on his machete, gasping.

He studied Kaelen—

his thin figure, silver-white hair,

and amethyst eyes glowing with a disturbing light.

"Haven't seen you on these roads before, kid," he said hoarsely.

"And you don't look like a common bandit. Who are you?"

Kaelen shrugged, wiping Oni blood from his axe.

"A survivor," he replied, his voice rougher than he remembered.

"Like you."

He offered no name.

No story.

---

Kael examined him for a moment, then looked at the wagon.

"Those were supply shipments for Grisel. Now they're ruined. And those two were trouble. Thanks for the help... though you didn't exactly fight like a sane man."

The words "not exactly sane" echoed in Kaelen's mind.

The voices laughed.

"He sees it. They know. Don't hide."

"Sanity is a luxury few can afford," Kaelen muttered,

gazing at the Oni corpses with no emotion.

"In this world, you either go mad… or you die."

His answer was cold.

A declaration of his new philosophy.

---

Kael raised an eyebrow but didn't argue.

"You might be right," he murmured, returning to check the wreck.

"Not much left. And this place isn't safe. I'm heading to Grisel. Need to report this."

---

Kaelen hesitated.

Grisel.

His destination.

But traveling with a stranger…

The voices warned him:

"Trap. Weakness. Trust is death."

Still—

a part of him, the pragmatic part,

knew two were stronger than one.

Especially against the Oni—

and whatever else stirred in the dark.

---

"I'm heading to Grisel," Kaelen said flatly.

"We can travel together. Until our paths diverge."

Kael looked him straight in the eye.

No friendship.

No camaraderie.

Just a cold assessment.

"Fine," he said at last.

"But don't trust me. I won't trust you either. That's the survivor's code. And don't try any of that… axe-crazy stuff on me."

Kaelen nodded.

Distrust—

was the only truth he could believe in now.

---

As they walked, Kaelen noticed something.

The voices—

though still present—

were less chaotic during combat,

or when his mind focused on survival.

It was as if the world's brutality was balm to his madness…

or maybe the conduit through which that madness revealed its power.

Kael was a solid presence.

An anchor to reality.

But Kaelen knew—

this alliance was as fragile

as life itself in this world.

It was another step in his transformation.

A step…

toward becoming the hunter.

---