Chapter 4: First Hunt
Dusk bleached the fortress battlements pale grey. The sun sank behind the jagged ridgeline of the blighted valley, and with the fading light, the cold seeped deeper into Drakemoor’s stone bones.
The discovery of the stolen ward supplies had rippled through every patrol. Guards tramped the corridors in pairs now, torches bobbing, their voices low and wary. No one trusted the shadows anymore—not outside the walls, and not within them.
I stood on the western rampart, elbows resting on the rough stone parapet, staring out toward the valley where the prototype had watched Nyra and me quarrel. Our Soul-Weave hummed weakly at the edge of my awareness, a frayed thread, thin enough that I feared one sharp tug would snap it entirely. Nyra stood a pace to my left, her great scaled form still and silent. She did not reach for my thoughts, and I did not reach for hers. The silence between us was heavy, thicker than the mist curling up from the valley floor.
“Reports came in from the outlying watchpost.”
Kaelen’s voice came quietly from behind me. I turned. His shadow dragon coiled loosely at his feet, tendrils of dark smoke drifting lazily across the flagstones. His silver eyes scanned the valley, sharp and alert.
“Two junior bonded scouts went out at midday to map blight growth along the old stream bed. They haven’t returned. The last signal flare they sent was weak, cut off mid-burst.”
Nyra lifted her head, golden pupils narrowing. Even without our full mental link, I could feel the flicker of primal alarm rolling off her.
“Prototype?” I asked, my breath fogging in the evening chill.
“Likely. It observed us. Learned how bonds work. Now it hunts others.” Kaelen’s tone was grim. “It has twisted and corrupted the stolen ward materials to build this lure. A trap tailored for bonded pairs.”
Malachi hurried up the rampart steps, Zephyr crackling anxiously in the fold of his cloak. The small drake’s static spiked whenever it faced the valley.
“Zephyr can taste the corruption down there,” Malachi said. “It’s concentrated along the stream. Not just blight—something mimicking the pull of a Soul-Weave. It lures bonded pairs in, twists their connection until it breaks.”
A cold prickle crawled up my spine. That was exactly what had happened to Nyra and me, only slower. The shadow studied, copied, weaponized the very thing that kept us safe.
Kaelen turned to me. “The council is split. Half argue we should hold back, strengthen the walls, wait for morning. The rest say we move now, before the scouts’ bond tears completely. I’m leading the rescue party. I want you and Nyra with us.”
My gaze flicked toward Nyra. The faint Soul-Weave between us trembled. Could we fight together like this, with our bond damaged and fragile? What if the prototype turned our own fractured connection against us mid-hunt?
Before I could speak, Kaelen read the hesitation on my face.
“I know the risk,” he said softly, only loud enough for me to hear. “No one will force you. But if you come, I will watch your back. Whatever the shadow tries to plant in your mind, I’ll intercept it.”
The quiet promise settled in my chest. Even with Nyra withdrawn, I was not alone.
“I’ll go,” I said. Nyra rumbled a low agreement beside me.
We gathered a small team: four seasoned shadow-binders, two archers, Malachi and Zephyr, Kaelen, Nyra and me. We slipped out through the postern gate as twilight deepened, moving silently down the winding trail toward the valley stream.
Mist swirled around our ankles. Blight crystals jutted from the earth, glowing sickly pale white. The air hummed with a false, gentle pull, mimicking the warm call of a Soul-Weave. It whispered faint, familiar thoughts, stolen from the scouts’ bond.
I’m right here. Come closer. Nothing is wrong.
“Keep your minds guarded,” Kaelen called, his shadow dragon spreading wide, dark tendrils forming a protective barrier around our group. “Don’t answer the whisper. It’s bait.”
We followed the stream for another hundred yards. Then we saw them.
The two scouts knelt in the mud, frozen, facing each other. Their Soul-Weave glowed visibly between them, stretched taut, flickering wildly. The prototype stood a few paces away, its tall, smooth body woven from condensed shadow and blight crystal. It watched them, motionless, learning the way their bond strained under pressure, just as it had watched Nyra and me.
It turned its faceless head toward us.
It had been waiting.
“Nyra!” I called out, reaching for our frayed Soul-Weave. A flash of guilt surged from her side, the old poison the shadow had planted still lingering. For a heartbeat, our link wavered. The prototype seized the opening instantly, sending a surge of cold parasitic thought racing along our thread, trying to drive another wedge between us.
She blames you. She thinks you broke the bond.
I flinched.
Kaelen reacted in the same instant. His shadow dragon lunged forward, slamming a wall of solid darkness between us and the prototype’s mental assault. The parasitic whisper shattered.
“Hold fast!” Kaelen shouted. “It feeds on your doubt. Don’t give it more.”
Nyra roared, the sound shaking the mist. She charged forward, claws scraping crystal from the ground. The prototype twisted away, still studying our movements, adapting to our counterattack. It did not fight to kill immediately. It fought to break bonds.
Malachi raised his hands, Zephyr unleashing a burst of purifying static that seared the blight crystals lining the stream bank. The false lure hummed and faded. The two scouts gasped, snapping free of the trance, their bond still damaged but whole enough for them to retreat.
But the prototype did not flee. It circled, eyes of glowing white crystal locked onto Nyra and me. It had seen our weakness. It would not let us leave so easily.
Kaelen moved to stand beside me, his shadow dragon coiled ready. His shoulder was close enough I could feel the faint chill of his shadow magic.
“It wants your bond,” he said quietly. “We’re not letting it take it.”
The prototype lunged.
— End of Chapter 4 —
The discovery of the stolen ward supplies had rippled through every patrol. Guards tramped the corridors in pairs now, torches bobbing, their voices low and wary. No one trusted the shadows anymore—not outside the walls, and not within them.
I stood on the western rampart, elbows resting on the rough stone parapet, staring out toward the valley where the prototype had watched Nyra and me quarrel. Our Soul-Weave hummed weakly at the edge of my awareness, a frayed thread, thin enough that I feared one sharp tug would snap it entirely. Nyra stood a pace to my left, her great scaled form still and silent. She did not reach for my thoughts, and I did not reach for hers. The silence between us was heavy, thicker than the mist curling up from the valley floor.
“Reports came in from the outlying watchpost.”
Kaelen’s voice came quietly from behind me. I turned. His shadow dragon coiled loosely at his feet, tendrils of dark smoke drifting lazily across the flagstones. His silver eyes scanned the valley, sharp and alert.
“Two junior bonded scouts went out at midday to map blight growth along the old stream bed. They haven’t returned. The last signal flare they sent was weak, cut off mid-burst.”
Nyra lifted her head, golden pupils narrowing. Even without our full mental link, I could feel the flicker of primal alarm rolling off her.
“Prototype?” I asked, my breath fogging in the evening chill.
“Likely. It observed us. Learned how bonds work. Now it hunts others.” Kaelen’s tone was grim. “It has twisted and corrupted the stolen ward materials to build this lure. A trap tailored for bonded pairs.”
Malachi hurried up the rampart steps, Zephyr crackling anxiously in the fold of his cloak. The small drake’s static spiked whenever it faced the valley.
“Zephyr can taste the corruption down there,” Malachi said. “It’s concentrated along the stream. Not just blight—something mimicking the pull of a Soul-Weave. It lures bonded pairs in, twists their connection until it breaks.”
A cold prickle crawled up my spine. That was exactly what had happened to Nyra and me, only slower. The shadow studied, copied, weaponized the very thing that kept us safe.
Kaelen turned to me. “The council is split. Half argue we should hold back, strengthen the walls, wait for morning. The rest say we move now, before the scouts’ bond tears completely. I’m leading the rescue party. I want you and Nyra with us.”
My gaze flicked toward Nyra. The faint Soul-Weave between us trembled. Could we fight together like this, with our bond damaged and fragile? What if the prototype turned our own fractured connection against us mid-hunt?
Before I could speak, Kaelen read the hesitation on my face.
“I know the risk,” he said softly, only loud enough for me to hear. “No one will force you. But if you come, I will watch your back. Whatever the shadow tries to plant in your mind, I’ll intercept it.”
The quiet promise settled in my chest. Even with Nyra withdrawn, I was not alone.
“I’ll go,” I said. Nyra rumbled a low agreement beside me.
We gathered a small team: four seasoned shadow-binders, two archers, Malachi and Zephyr, Kaelen, Nyra and me. We slipped out through the postern gate as twilight deepened, moving silently down the winding trail toward the valley stream.
Mist swirled around our ankles. Blight crystals jutted from the earth, glowing sickly pale white. The air hummed with a false, gentle pull, mimicking the warm call of a Soul-Weave. It whispered faint, familiar thoughts, stolen from the scouts’ bond.
I’m right here. Come closer. Nothing is wrong.
“Keep your minds guarded,” Kaelen called, his shadow dragon spreading wide, dark tendrils forming a protective barrier around our group. “Don’t answer the whisper. It’s bait.”
We followed the stream for another hundred yards. Then we saw them.
The two scouts knelt in the mud, frozen, facing each other. Their Soul-Weave glowed visibly between them, stretched taut, flickering wildly. The prototype stood a few paces away, its tall, smooth body woven from condensed shadow and blight crystal. It watched them, motionless, learning the way their bond strained under pressure, just as it had watched Nyra and me.
It turned its faceless head toward us.
It had been waiting.
“Nyra!” I called out, reaching for our frayed Soul-Weave. A flash of guilt surged from her side, the old poison the shadow had planted still lingering. For a heartbeat, our link wavered. The prototype seized the opening instantly, sending a surge of cold parasitic thought racing along our thread, trying to drive another wedge between us.
She blames you. She thinks you broke the bond.
I flinched.
Kaelen reacted in the same instant. His shadow dragon lunged forward, slamming a wall of solid darkness between us and the prototype’s mental assault. The parasitic whisper shattered.
“Hold fast!” Kaelen shouted. “It feeds on your doubt. Don’t give it more.”
Nyra roared, the sound shaking the mist. She charged forward, claws scraping crystal from the ground. The prototype twisted away, still studying our movements, adapting to our counterattack. It did not fight to kill immediately. It fought to break bonds.
Malachi raised his hands, Zephyr unleashing a burst of purifying static that seared the blight crystals lining the stream bank. The false lure hummed and faded. The two scouts gasped, snapping free of the trance, their bond still damaged but whole enough for them to retreat.
But the prototype did not flee. It circled, eyes of glowing white crystal locked onto Nyra and me. It had seen our weakness. It would not let us leave so easily.
Kaelen moved to stand beside me, his shadow dragon coiled ready. His shoulder was close enough I could feel the faint chill of his shadow magic.
“It wants your bond,” he said quietly. “We’re not letting it take it.”
The prototype lunged.
— End of Chapter 4 —
