6. Darak
6
DARAK
I push aside another twisted branch, scanning the dark canopy above. The shadows here play tricks on my mind, shifting and dancing like living things. My fingers brush the hilt of my sword, ready for anything.
"Almost there," Lirien says, her voice soft. She keeps glancing over her shoulder, searching the undergrowth. I know she's looking for that creature – the one that fled when her magic exploded.
"It's not coming back." The words come out harsher than intended.
She wraps her arms around herself. "I know. I just... it was nice, having something that wasn't afraid of me."
"Better this way. That thing could've turned on us at any moment."
"Not everything is a threat, Darak."
I grunt, unconvinced. The memory of her magic display flashes through my mind – raw power crackling through the air, her silver hair whipping around her face, those green eyes blazing like emerald fire. Beautiful and terrifying all at once.
"You're staring again," she says, a hint of amusement in her voice.
"Just making sure you don't lose control again."
"Liar." She taps the bond between us as though it's a physical tether. "I can feel your thoughts, you know."
Heat creeps up my neck. "Stay out of my head, demon."
"Then stop thinking so loudly." She grins, stepping over a fallen log. "And for what it's worth, you looked pretty impressive yourself, charging in like that."
"I was trying to stop you from killing us both."
"My hero." She rolls her eyes, but there's no malice in it.
The trees thin ahead, revealing patches of actual sky. Thank the gods – a few more days in this cursed forest and I might have gone mad.
"See?" Lirien points ahead. "Told you we were close to the edge."
I nod, relief washing over me. But something else nags at me – something I'm not ready to examine too closely. The way she looked in that moment of power, wild and free and absolutely radiant...
I shake my head. Focus. The sooner we're out of here, the better .
"Where to now?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral despite the growing unease in my gut.
Lirien brushes a strand of silver hair from her face. "The port of Kestral. We'll need to book passage on a ship."
"A ship?" My steps falter. "How the hell am I supposed to get back home if we're sailing across the ocean?"
The words taste bitter on my tongue. Home. The battlefield I was torn from feels distant now, like a half-remembered dream. The bond tugs at something inside me, making my chest tight.
"That's the point," she says, picking her way through a tangle of roots. "We need to remove this bond if you want to get back to wherever it is you're from."
I grunt, following her lead while trying not to notice how her fitted leather pants hug her curves. Without her usual flowing robes, I can see the lean muscle in her arms, the graceful line of her neck. A silver chain glints at her throat, disappearing beneath a close-fitting vest that accentuates her... I drag my eyes away.
"See something you like?" She throws the words over her shoulder, a knowing smile playing at her lips.
"Just wondering where you learned to dress like a mercenary instead of a witch."
She laughs, the sound echoing through the trees. "You think we all wear black robes and point hats? Sometimes it's better to blend in." She gestures at her outfit. "Besides, try climbing mountains in skirts."
I can't argue with that logic, but I wish she'd put the damn robes back on. It's harder to remember she's my annoying little enemy when she looks like... this. The bond pulses between us, warm and insistent, making everything more complicated than it should be.
"The port's about three days' walk," she says. "Try to keep your eyes on the path instead of my ass."
I scowl at her back. "In your dreams, demon."
But I don't deny it.
I reach out, letting the tall grass brush against my fingertips as we walk. The sensation grounds me, but my mind keeps drifting back to that moment – Lirien's magic spiraling out of control, her eyes blazing with raw power.
"Has that ever happened before?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
She slows her pace, shoulders tensing. A long breath escapes her. "Yes."
"Why?"
Her fingers play with the silver chain at her neck. "It's... complicated. When my emotions get tangled up with someone, my magic becomes unpredictable. Like it has a mind of its own."
"The bond, you mean." The words taste bitter on my tongue. Of course – the magical tether binding us together must be affecting her control.
She keeps walking, but I catch the slight shake of her head, the way her lips press together before answering. "Sure."
Something in her tone makes me wonder if there's more she isn't saying, but the bond between us has become stubbornly quiet. I watch her back as she picks up her pace, noting how her shoulders remain rigid.
My fingers trace the healed skin on my arm, remembering the warmth of her magic seeping into my flesh. The memory of her words echoes in my mind – how she could use my strength to stabilize her powers, but won't. Something about consequences she refuses to face.
With that thought, the bond gives a little tug between us. I watch her walking ahead, her silver hair catching the filtered sunlight. Raw power radiates from her in waves, untamed and dangerous. Like a weapon without a proper wielder.
My jaw clenches. The irony of our situation isn't lost on me. She possessed enough strength to tear me from battle, to bind me to her will, yet she can't – or won't – harness that same power to fix what she's done. The forest around us holds countless dangers, and her lack of control could get us both killed before we reach this mysterious coven.
The solution seems simple: let her draw on my strength. But nothing about this situation is simple. The bond already feels like a living thing, growing stronger with each passing day. If we deepen it further, what then? Will this coven even be able to break something that powerful?
Centuries of battle have taught me to recognize weakness – it gets you killed. But this... this is different. This isn't physical weakness. She has power in abundance. It's her ignorance that makes her dangerous. Like giving a master's blade to an untrained recruit.
The scar on her cheek catches my eye – the mark I left when we first met. It's been mere days but it feels like weeks. Probably because she's so annoying , I tell myself, ignoring any other possibility.
Now I'm considering letting her deeper into my mind, my strength. The thought makes my skin crawl.
A breeze stirs the leaves above us, and I catch her scent on the wind. The bond hums in response, and I suppress a shiver. This is exactly what I'm afraid of – these moments where I forget she's my enemy, where the line between us blurs.
As I squint across the sun-drenched field, my attention is caught by a dark shape against the horizon. A building – small but solid, with smoke curling from what appears to be a chimney. My stomach growls at the mere thought of a hot meal.
"Look." I point toward the structure, already imagining what provisions we might find inside. "Might be worth checking out. Could even be an inn, or at least someone willing to trade."
Lirien follows my gaze, her nose wrinkling in that way that makes the scar on her cheek catch the light. "I don't know. We should stick to the road." Her fingers twist nervously in the fabric of her robes, a tell I've started to recognize when she's unsure.
"When was the last time you ate something that wasn't that rock-hard excuse for bread?" I can still taste the stale crumbs from this morning's meager breakfast, and the memory does nothing to quiet my growling stomach.
She pulls the wrapped loaf from her pack, examining it with a frown. Her delicate fingers prod at the crusty surface, and a few crumbs fall to the grass. "It's not that bad." But the way she says it makes it clear she's trying to convince herself as much as me.
"It could break teeth." I tap the hilt of my sword in thought. "Besides, whoever lives there might have a real bed. My back's killing me from sleeping on roots."
"Poor, delicate dark elf." She smirks, but I catch the way she rolls her shoulders, clearly as sore as I am. "Fine. But if this turns out to be some cultist's murder shack, I'm blaming you."
"Noted." I start across the field, grass whispering against my boots. "Though I'd take cultists over another night of your food."
I can feel our energy shift as we fall into a sort of banter.
"I didn't hear you complaining when you ate three times your serving of bread."
"I was starving. And it wasn't bread – it was crumbling crust."
She catches up to me, bumping my shoulder with hers. "It's not my fault you couldn't catch any game."
"Next time we're finding an inn. Or at least someone who knows the difference between seasoning and throwing random herbs on bread."
The bond thrums between us, warm and alive. I catch myself smiling and quickly school my features back to neutral. But not before Lirien notices – her green eyes sparkle with amusement.
"Was that an actual smile? Quick, someone mark the date."
"Shut up and walk, demon."
We change direction, heading toward the distant building. The tall grass parts before us like waves, and I find myself hoping whoever lives there is willing to share their hearth. And their pantry.