Chapter 2 — Whispers in the Mist

Alana Mercer

The Bloodpine Forest exhaled in a way that felt alive, as if it still remembered the clash that had just unfolded. Alana moved swiftly but cautiously, her footsteps deliberately quiet against the damp, spongy floor, her ribs stinging with each breath. The wound left by the cursed’s claws burned, though the sharp pain was already dulling into a familiar ache. She had long since learned to push pain aside, to treat it as nothing more than background noise—a companion she would not greet but could never ignore.

The moon struggled to pierce the dense canopy above, its pale light reduced to faint streaks pooling across the forest floor. The air was heavy, clinging to her skin like a second layer. Somewhere in the distance, a branch creaked, its sound sharp and unnatural in the oppressive quiet. A warning. Or a trap.

She slowed her pace, gripping her wolf-fur cloak tighter around her shoulders. The weight of Kael’s voice still pressed against her thoughts, his bitter questions echoing louder than they should.

“Was it worth it? Do they ever stop screaming?”

Her jaw clenched as she adjusted the strap of her leather armor. She couldn’t let his words linger—not now, not when the forest itself seemed to conspire against her. She had learned long ago that hesitation could be fatal, especially here. Still, the way his silver eyes had burned, not with judgment but something worse—understanding—left an unwelcome rawness in her chest. She couldn’t afford to think about Kael. Not yet.

The forest shifted again, the shadows deepening, the air colder. She crouched low, her amber eyes narrowing to scan her surroundings. Her pulse quickened, but she forced herself to remain still, listening. The Bloodpine was a master of deception, its sounds layered and distorted. It could make even the most seasoned hunter feel like prey.

The shadows seemed to thicken unnaturally, coiling like smoke. The faint scent of iron filled her nostrils, mingling with the damp decay of the forest floor. Then she heard it: a faint, rhythmic creak, almost imperceptible beneath the forest’s ambient hum. It was too steady to be the random groan of a tree. Too deliberate. A sound born of movement.

She turned, her dagger already in hand. The silver blade caught the faint glow of the moon, casting fragmented light onto the gnarled forest floor. Her grip tightened, and her breathing slowed, each inhale measured and controlled. The scars on her arms tingled faintly, as if sensing the tension in the air.

From the mist, a figure emerged. Not cursed, not monstrous, but still out of place. A boy—a child, no older than ten—staggered forward, his bare feet catching on the roots. His thin frame was clothed in little more than a tattered shirt, the edges frayed and soaked through with blood. His face was pale, almost ghostly in the dim light, and his wide eyes darted around the forest like a frightened animal.

Alana froze. Her mind raced, searching for logic, for reason. No one wandered this deep into the Bloodpine willingly, let alone a child. The forest was not a place for innocence.

“Help...” The boy’s voice cracked, his trembling hands reaching forward. He collapsed onto his knees, the damp earth swallowing the sound of his fall. “Please...”

Alana’s instincts screamed at her to keep her distance, to stay hidden. No one trusted a plea in the Bloodpine. But something about the boy’s voice struck a chord she couldn’t quite silence. Against her better judgment, she stepped closer, her dagger still raised.

The boy’s head shot up, his eyes locking onto hers. They were a muddy brown, filled with fear. “They put me here,” he whimpered, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “They said... they said it would come back for me.”

“Who?” Alana’s voice was low, steady, but her pulse thudded in her ears. “Who left you here?”

The boy shook his head violently, his thin shoulders quaking. “The voices. In the mist. They said the forest takes what it wants.”

She crouched, keeping a safe distance, her every sense attuned to the forest around them. The Bloodpine didn’t feel right. Every sound seemed dampened, every shadow heavier than it should have been. It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath, waiting.

Alana reached into the pouch at her side, pulling out a small vial of clear liquid—a salve she carried for wounds. “Let me see your hands,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Are you hurt?”

The boy hesitated, his gaze flicking to the dagger in her hand. Slowly, he extended his arms, the skin mottled with bruises and scratches. Alana moved closer, her movements deliberate to avoid startling him.

That’s when she saw it.

Beneath the grime and blood, etched into the boy’s forearm, was a faint, curling symbol. An ancient rune, one she recognized instantly. It was a mark tied to the Skulls. Her stomach dropped, cold realization sweeping over her.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded, her voice sharper now. The boy flinched but didn’t answer. His lips moved silently, forming words she couldn’t hear.

Something howled in the distance—a mournful, bone-chilling sound that seemed to vibrate through the very ground beneath them. The boy’s eyes widened in terror, and he scrambled backward, his movements frantic.

“It’s coming,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “It always comes back.”

Alana shot to her feet, her dagger raised. The howl grew louder, closer, blending with the rustling of the trees. The shadows around them seemed to writhe, as if alive. She stepped in front of the boy, her body positioned to shield him from whatever was out there.

The mist thickened, coiling through the trees like a living thing. And then the growl came—low, guttural, and impossibly close. Alana’s amber eyes scanned the forest, her heart pounding in time with the tension building around them.

“Stay behind me,” she ordered, her voice hard.

The creature stepped into view, its form half-shrouded in the mist. It was larger than the cursed she had fought earlier, its body hunched and sinewy, with patches of fur clinging to its twisted frame. Its eyes glowed an eerie crimson, locking onto Alana with predatory intent.

The boy whimpered, clutching at her cloak, and Alana cursed under her breath. The creature growled again, the sound vibrating through the air, and then it lunged.

Alana moved on instinct, shoving the boy aside as she met the creature head-on. Her dagger slashed through the air, catching its shoulder, but the beast barely flinched. Its claws raked toward her, and she twisted, narrowly avoiding the strike. Pain flared briefly in her ribs where her earlier wound threatened to reopen.

The beast was fast—too fast. It circled her, its movements fluid and calculated. Alana tightened her grip on the dagger, her breathing shallow. She couldn’t afford a misstep, not now.

It lunged again, and this time Alana didn’t dodge. Instead, she dropped low, letting its momentum carry it over her. Her dagger sliced upward, embedding deep into its flank. The creature howled, a sound that rattled through her skull, and twisted violently, knocking her backward.

The impact knocked the wind from her lungs, but she rolled to her feet, ignoring the sharp sting in her side. The creature staggered, blood dripping from its wound, but it wasn’t finished. Its crimson eyes burned brighter, its growl deepening as it prepared to strike again.

But before it could move, another sound cut through the air—a low, resonant hum that seemed to ripple through the forest. The creature froze, its head snapping toward the source of the sound.

Alana turned, her dagger still raised, and saw him.

Kael stepped out of the mist, his presence commanding, his silver eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. His clawed hands flexed at his sides, and his expression was cold, calculating.

The creature growled, its crimson gaze locking onto Kael. For a moment, the forest seemed to hold its breath, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, with a final, guttural snarl, the beast retreated, melting into the shadows as quickly as it had appeared.

Kael’s gaze shifted to Alana, his expression unreadable. “Still think you can do this alone?”

Alana’s chest heaved as she caught her breath, her dagger still clutched tightly in her hand. The boy cowered behind her, his small frame trembling. Kael’s words cut through her like the forest’s cold wind, but she refused to let them land. Not fully.

The Bloodpine didn’t let anyone go without a fight. And now, it seemed, the fight was far from over.