Chapter 8 Kaelren
Kaelren
She emerged from her tent the next morning looking like death warmed over, and I had to bite back several observations about her deteriorating condition.
Not your concern, I reminded myself. She’s a mission. Nothing more.
I noticed the crew had settled into an easy rhythm. Bryx had taught Elle how to properly greet Kevin without getting stung—a delicate dance of humming and hand gestures that she’d fumbled through while the crew laughed. Even that simple moment of levity felt dangerous. She was integrating too well.
“We’re going on patrol,” I announced when she approached the fire for breakfast.
Elle looked up from the bowl Eltrien handed her, confusion clear on her face. “Patrol? The Sage said more training today.”
“Training includes practical application. There are things moving in the forest—constructs. Bone and root fused together, drawn to concentrated Root power.” I checked the knives at my belt. “Which means they’re drawn to you.”
“So I’m bait.” Her voice went flat.
“You’re the lure, yes. But you’re also the weapon.” I met her eyes. “You needed to know you could handle them in the field, not just in a controlled circle with the Sage watching. These things hunt at night. Better to face them now, on our terms, than have them find camp while everyone’s sleeping.”
“You could have mentioned that before just announcing we’re going on a death walk.”
“Would you have agreed to come if I’d explained the full extent of the danger?”
She hesitated. “No. Probably not.”
“Then discussing it beforehand would have been pointless. I would have brought you regardless—this needed to happen.” I finished checking my weapons and looked at her directly. “We leave in ten minutes. Bring water, not breakfast. You’ll want an empty stomach for this.”
“Just the two of us?”
“The others have tasks. Perimeter checks, supply runs, scout rotations. Someone needs to stay with the Sage.” I paused, considering whether to add more, then decided honesty served better than comfort. “And if this goes badly, better it’s just me who has to deal with the consequences.”
“This seems like a terrible idea.”
“Most of mine are. But they keep us alive, so I keep having them.” I gestured toward her tent. “Ten minutes. Don’t make me come get you.”
She muttered something under her breath that sounded like “no kidding” but stood to prepare.
Ten minutes later, we were walking through the deeper forest. Elle tried to look confident but jumped at every sound. Her marks glowed faintly with her nervousness.
“Stop broadcasting fear,” I said. “Everything in a mile radius can sense it.”
“How do I stop?”
“Remember you’re more dangerous than most of them now.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s fact.”
We walked in silence along a path that barely existed. The forest here was ancient, trees so old they’d developed their own ecosystems—moss gardens growing on bark, insects that only lived in specific branches, entire worlds contained in a single trunk.
Elle stared at the canopy with wonder that made her look younger, more vulnerable.
Her mouth was slightly open, eyes tracking the way light filtered through leaves in colors that didn’t exist on Earth.
She’d stopped walking entirely, too absorbed in the beauty to remember she was supposed to be watching for threats.
Liability, I told myself. She’s going to get herself killed staring at trees.
But I didn’t push her forward. Didn’t snap at her to focus.
Just watched her take in the forest with the kind of unguarded awe I’d lost decades ago, if I’d ever had it at all.
The marks on her skin were glowing faintly, responding to the life around us, and she didn’t even notice.
Didn’t realize she was unconsciously reaching toward the trees, her power already trying to connect.
She was so clearly Jo’s blood. That same wonder, that same instinct to commune rather than conquer. Jo had looked at the Thornwood like it was a miracle, even after everything it had taken from her.
Stop noticing such things, I commanded myself. She’s a mission. A debt. Nothing more.
But then she smiled—just slightly, just for a moment—at something in the canopy, and I felt the connection between our marks pulse. Not painful this time. Just… present. Aware.
She was becoming more attuned to the Root with every passing hour, and I was dying from my failed attempts to force it. The irony would have been funny if it didn’t make me want to destroy something.
“Movement,” I said sharply, needing to break whatever moment this was. “Eleven o’clock.”
Elle turned slowly, the wonder draining from her face as she spotted the bone-root construct. It moved like a spider, too many joints bending wrong, its form a mockery of both skeletal and plant life.
The marks on her skin flared bright with fear, and I felt the exact moment her survival instinct kicked in. Her posture shifted—less wonder, more coiled tension. She was learning.
Good, I thought. Fear will keep her alive longer than awe ever could.
“What the fuck is that?”
“Construct. I just told you.”
“You didn’t say they looked like nightmares had babies with trees!”
“Would that information have helped?”
“Maybe!”
The construct moved closer, drawn by her power but wary.
“What do I do?” Real fear in her voice now.
“Defend yourself.”
“That’s your advice?”
“You wanted practical training.”
“I wanted to not die!”
“Then defend yourself effectively.”
She glared at me, but the construct attacked. It moved faster than she expected, launching itself with bone claws extended.
Elle threw herself sideways, marks flaring. Thorns erupted from her arms—wild, desperate things. The construct twisted mid-leap to avoid them, landing behind her.
“Stop running!” I called. “You’re not prey anymore.”
“Easy for you to say!”
But she stopped retreating. When the construct lunged again, she met it. Her thorns caught its claws, holding them at bay.
“Now grow something inside it,” I instructed.
“What?”
“You made a flower sing. Make this thing bloom.”
Understanding flickered across her face. She pressed her palm against the construct’s chest, marks pulsing.
Nothing happened for a heartbeat. Then the construct screamed.
Flowers erupted from inside it—violent, hungry things with their own thorns. They consumed it from within, using its body as fertilizer. Within seconds, a garden stood where the monster had been.
Elle staggered back, staring. “I killed it.”
“You transformed it.”
“That’s just fancy words for killing.”
“No. Look.”
Insects were already investigating the flowers. Life returning to dead wood and old bone.
“You didn’t destroy,” I said, watching the insects investigate her gruesome garden. “You transformed it. Gave something twisted a chance to become something useful. That’s rare.”
She looked at me sharply, suspicion clear in her eyes. “I thought you believed I was an abomination.”
“I believe you’re dangerous. That’s entirely different from being an abomination.
” I tilted my head, studying the flowers still blooming from bone and wood.
“Abominations are mistakes. You’re something the realm chose deliberately.
I may not like what that means for me, but I can admit when something is well-crafted, even if it’s inconvenient. ”
Before she could respond to that—and I could see she wanted to, probably with something cutting—more movement rippled through the undergrowth.
Three more constructs emerged, and they’d clearly learned from their companion’s spectacular death.
They moved with caution now, coordinating their approach.
“Shit,” Elle breathed.
“Really? We’re fighting plant-bone nightmares and you’re going with ‘shit’ as your battle cry?” I shook my head. “Standards remain regardless of circumstances, Elle. If you’re going to swear at monsters, at least be creative about it.”
“You’re critiquing my language right now?”
“I’m a believer in maintaining civilization even when surrounded by things that want to eat us. Call it a character flaw.” I watched the constructs circle, calculating angles and weaknesses. “Also, it annoys you, which makes this significantly more entertaining for me.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I prefer ‘consistent.’ Now stop complaining and get ready—these ones look smarter than the first.” I gestured with my blade. “Back to back. And try not to stab me with those thorns of yours. Friendly fire is embarrassing for everyone involved.”
Elle pressed against me without hesitation. I ignored how her warmth felt through our clothes, how her marks hummed against my corruption.
“On three,” I said.
“Three what?”
“One… two… three.”
They attacked simultaneously. I let my corruption free—black rot spreading from my strikes, wasteful but necessary. Elle was learning, growing targeted vines instead of wild thorns, specific plants instead of random flowers.
But the third construct was smarter. It got past her defenses, claws raking her shoulder. Blood—red with gold threads—stained her tunic.
Rage, instant and absolute.
I moved without thought, corruption exploding in waves of decay. The construct didn’t just die—it rotted to dust.
“Kaelren,” Elle gasped.
I was still flooding the area with corruption. Trees withering, plants dying, air becoming toxic. I pulled back, but a circle of death surrounded us, everything within ten feet reduced to black rot.
“You’re bleeding,” I said, focusing on her shoulder.
“I’ll live.” She stared at the dead circle. “You killed everything.”
“You were injured.”
“So you committed botanical genocide?”
“It seemed efficient.”
She laughed, slightly hysterical. “You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
I reached for her shoulder, then stopped. “May I?”
“Since when do you ask?”
“Since now.”
Because something in you shifted when you saw her blood, his corruption whispered. Because she matters to you more than she should.
She nodded. I examined the wound—three parallel cuts, deep but clean.