The Song of the Shadows

The road to Grisel felt less solitary with Kael by his side,

though their bond was more a pact of necessity than true camaraderie.

The road-guard warrior, Kael, was a man of few words and measured gestures.

His emerald green eyes were always scanning—

the horizon, the trees, the wind.

An efficiency Kaelen began to mimic.

They spoke only when needed:

sighted dangers, possible routes, where to find water.

Their silence wasn't uncomfortable—

it was its own language.

The silent pact of two broken souls surviving together.

---

To Kaelen, Kael's presence was a strange anchor.

The whispers in his mind remained—

a constant undercurrent of despair and pragmatism—

but they quieted slightly when they had a shared goal.

When they fought together against the lesser beasts of the forest—

starving wolves, scavenging monstrosities with hardened hides—

Kaelen felt his madness become a tool.

The voices shouted the enemy's movements,

revealed blind spots,

drove him to brutality without hesitation.

Kael, on the other hand, moved like death itself,

his machete flowing like the blade of a silent dancer.

There was a macabre synchronization between them—

a dance of death.

---

One evening, camping beneath the shadow of a cliff,

Kael lit a small fire.

The only sound breaking the night was the crackling of wood.

Kaelen, staring at the embers,

felt an unusual urge to speak.

Something about the man beside him—his stoicism—

reminded him of the strength Master Elías once tried to forge into him.

"Why do you protect these roads, Kael?" Kaelen asked,

his voice rougher than usual.

Kael didn't answer right away.

He stared into the flames,

his green eyes reflecting firelight.

"Lost my own long ago," he finally said, voice low and gravelly.

"Shadow Fae. I couldn't stop them. No more home. Only the road remains.

It's what I do now. My… penance."

His tone was emotionless,

but Kaelen felt the buried ache beneath years of scars.

---

Kaelen nodded. He understood that pain.

The echo of Lígia and Master Elías in his mind grew louder.

He wasn't so different from Kael, after all.

Kael had found a way to channel his pain into a cause—

however fractured.

Kaelen was still searching for his own.

Or maybe… he was only trying to survive.

---

Finally, after days of travel,

the looming silhouettes of Grisel's walls rose on the horizon.

It was no utopia.

Not the kind of fortress Kaelen imagined from childhood tales.

It was a monolith of gray stone,

walls high and scarred from countless sieges.

Watchtowers stabbed into the sky like accusing fingers,

and the main gate—reinforced with steel and oak—

was guarded by soldiers clad in full armor,

faces worn and joyless.

The air didn't smell like bread—

but smoke, iron, and the rot of thousands packed into stone.

This was no haven.

This was a crucible.

---

As they approached the gate,

Kaelen felt a new surge of whispers—

different this time.

Not madness. Not pragmatism.

Something deeper.

A gnawing sense that this city harbored its own kind of darkness.

The voices warned him:

"Deceit. Rats. Trust no one here."

---

The gate guards stopped them.

Their polished armor and sharp-tipped spears radiated dominance.

"Who are you?" barked one—

a bearded man with distrustful eyes.

"Kael. Roadguard," Kael replied, his voice firm and practiced.

"Reporting an Oni attack. Eastern route. Supply wagon to Grisel destroyed."

The guard's eyes widened slightly at the mention of Oni.

"Another one. Spreading like disease... And him?"

His gaze fell on Kaelen—

silver-white hair, glowing amethyst eyes.

Not a common sight in these lands.

---

Kaelen felt the scrutiny.

The voices hissed:

"Lie. Hide. Danger."

"My companion," Kael answered calmly.

"Survivor from the Valley of Sereno. Oni wiped it out. One of the few who escaped."

A flicker of pity crossed the guard's eyes—

quickly replaced by grim acceptance.

The Valley of Sereno was known for isolation and the "old ways."

Its fall… was a blow to morale.

A brutal reminder of the world's cruelty.

—

"Poor bastard," muttered a younger guard.

"Go on. But careful, outsider. Grisel isn't for the naive.

Bring trouble, and the walls are high—

but the dungeons run deeper."

---

The massive gates of Grisel groaned open.

Noise, stench, the crush of humanity—

hit Kaelen like a wave.

Crowded streets.

Merchants haggling,

soldiers patrolling,

beggars in corners,

and shadowy figures slipping through alleys.

The voices in his mind became a low, constant murmur—

a symphony of warning and paranoia.

Every face a threat.

Every shadow a possible blade.

---

Kael stopped at a crossroads, eyes scanning the district.

"I need to report to the Guard Barracks. Then look for work. You?"

Kaelen hesitated.

He had nowhere to go.

No plan.

Only instinct.

"I don't know. Yet."

"Try the Mercenaries' Guild—near the main market.

They always need hands… or mouths that know when to shut.

It's a place for people like us," Kael said,

his voice tinged with dry irony.

"Don't expect honor. Just contracts and coin.

And don't trust anyone—especially the friendly ones."

---

Kael's green eyes met Kaelen's amethyst ones.

No warmth.

Only mutual recognition.

"Stay sharp, Kaelen," Kael said,

using his name for the first time—

almost a growl.

"Don't let the city swallow you."

Then he turned—

and vanished into the chaos of Grisel.

---

Kaelen stood alone, hand axe at his side.

The city was a towering beast.

And the whispers in his head?

Now they sang—

a seductive hymn.

This was no longer about surviving.

This…

was where he would learn to hunt.

---

Guided by noise and instinct,

Kaelen wandered toward the market.

He didn't get far.

Just ahead, a group of local thugs were harassing an old merchant—

demanding payment for "protection."

Kaelen paused.

Cold, calculating.

Not morality.

Just curiosity.

The urge to observe this new ecosystem at work.

---

Then—

a figure sliced through the thugs like wind.

A woman.

Long, flowing charcoal hair billowed like a dark veil.

Her eyes—

icy blue, almost translucent—

flashed with strange light as her dagger cut the air.

Not a frontal assault.

A distraction.

Precise.

Wounding.

Disorienting.

—

"Don't you lot have better things to do than bully the elderly?" she asked.

Her voice: a blend of sweetness and blade.

It froze the blood.

A smile danced on her lips—

strangely alluring,

but never reaching her cold eyes.

"Wolves may eat sheep.

But not when a dragon watches."

---

The thugs faltered.

Surprised.

Wounded.

The old merchant escaped, limping.

She didn't follow.

She simply watched the thugs—

eyes glinting with amusement and silent threat.

---

Kaelen stared, fascinated.

There was no heroism in her.

Only whim.

A dancer with death.

The voices whispered,

tone altered—

not warning,

but something else:

"Interesting… Mad… Like you."

---

She turned,

those glacial blue eyes locking onto Kaelen.

Her gaze pierced through his armor of indifference.

A wider smile bloomed—

welcoming,

and dangerously mad.

—

"What are you staring at, lost soul?" she asked,

her voice a wicked lullaby.

"Looks like you've seen true hell.

I like that."

---

Kaelen didn't answer immediately.

But for the first time since the massacre—

he felt no urge to run.

Or strike.

Only… curiosity.

It was as if this woman—

Seraphina—

could see directly into his fractured soul.

And not only did she not fear it—

she was drawn to it.

The song of the shadows became sweeter.

A melody.

Grisel would not just be a city of survival.

It would be a place of…

unexpected encounters.

Where Kaelen's madness

might finally find its echo—

or perhaps…

a terrible harmony.

---