3. Starlit Encounter
Chapter 3
Starlit Encounter
K ai dropped his travel pack onto the stone floor of Thornhaven's kitchen with a satisfying thud, wincing slightly at the clink of glass vials inside. He'd made it back just before sunset, the journey from Mistwood taking longer than expected—mostly because he'd spent half the return trip arguing with Briar about whether or not they should go back after nightfall.
“Is that you making a racket, Everwood?” Silas's voice echoed from the corridor before he appeared in the doorway, elegant as always despite the smudge of ink on his cheek. His dark hair was cut short, and he wore the simple linen shirt and trousers he favored when working in his study rather than the more formal attire his royal status typically demanded.
“No, it's a very loud ghost,” Kai replied, already digging through the pack. “Or possibly one of your many adoring subjects come to pledge undying fealty.”
Silas rolled his eyes, but the fondness in his expression betrayed him. “Did you get everything?”
“Most of it.” Kai began arranging the parcels on the large wooden table. “The silver sage was highway robbery, by the way. Twenty-two silver pieces for a handful of leaves that probably grew on the side of the road.”
“It's harvested under a blue moon,” Silas said with the patient tone of someone who'd explained this concept multiple times.
“So the herb woman claimed. Convenient excuse for extortion, if you ask me.”
“Which is why nobody asked you,” came a deeper voice as Thorne entered the kitchen, ducking slightly to avoid the low doorframe. The forest guardian's imposing height and broad shoulders made most human dwellings seem cramped by comparison, but he moved with surprising grace for someone so large.
A smile played at the corners of his grey eyes as he approached Silas, placing a gentle hand at the small of his back—a casual intimacy that spoke volumes about their relationship. Kai had been present for its tentative beginnings, had watched with equal parts amusement and envy as the taciturn guardian and the exiled prince circled each other for months before finally admitting what was obvious to everyone else.
“How was the village?” Thorne asked, turning his attention to Kai. “Any trouble?”
“Define 'trouble,'” Kai hedged, suddenly very interested in the proper arrangement of herb bundles.
Silas groaned. “What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Kai protested, then amended, “Well, almost nothing. There might have been a small... fire-related incident at the herb shop.”
“Kai.” Silas pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It was an accident! You know how it gets sometimes.” Kai flexed his fingers, remembering the unexpected surge of magic. “Besides, no serious damage done. Just a bundle of lavender and possibly my reputation among the local merchants.”
Thorne's expression turned thoughtful. “Your magic flared without intent?”
“Yeah. Like a sneeze, but with more flames.”
“Has that been happening more frequently?” There was something in Thorne's tone that made Kai look up sharply.
“Not really. Well, maybe. I don't know.” He shrugged, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. His unpredictable magic had always been a sore subject—a reminder that despite years of practice, he still lacked the control that came naturally to others.
Silas exchanged a meaningful glance with Thorne. “Maybe we should adjust your training. Focus more on containment rather than?—”
“It's fine,” Kai interrupted, forcing a grin. “Really. Just a one-off thing. Probably because the place was weird.”
“Weird how?” Thorne asked, his interest visibly piqued.
Kai hesitated. Here was his opening to mention Eliar—the strange, beautiful man with eyes like starlight and warnings of things stirring. The mysterious note. The sense of dormant power beneath the village streets.
But something held him back. A strange, possessive feeling he didn't quite understand. As if sharing Eliar with Silas and Thorne would somehow dilute the encounter, make it less... whatever it was.
“Just weird,” he said instead. “You know how these isolated villages get. All suspicious of outsiders and full of local superstitions.”
“You're hiding something,” Silas said, knowing him too well.
“I'm an open book,” Kai protested, placing a hand over his heart. “A devastatingly handsome and straightforward open book.”
“Right,” Silas drawled. “And I'm just a simple country farmer.”
“Well, you are living in exile on what is basically a fancy farm,” Kai pointed out. “I mean, sure, it's a massive estate with ancient magical protections and a library bigger than most villages, but still—technically a farm.”
Thorne snorted softly. “He's deflecting.”
“He always deflects,” Silas agreed, still watching Kai with narrow eyes. “Fine, keep your secrets. But if whatever happened in that village comes back to cause problems...”
“It won't,” Kai assured him, ignoring the twinge of guilt. He began repacking his personal bag, carefully selecting what he might need for his planned return to Mistwood later that night. “Anyway, I'm starving. Please tell me there's food that doesn't involve week-old travel rations.”
The conversation shifted to safer topics as they moved to the dining room, where a simple but hearty meal awaited. Kai let Silas's stories of Thornhaven's daily happenings wash over him, contributing just enough to avoid suspicion while his mind kept drifting back to Mistwood, to the note burning a hole in his pocket, to eyes that glowed with an inner light that wasn't quite human.
As the evening progressed, he caught Briar flitting about the rafters, occasionally making exaggerated gestures that clearly communicated her opinion of his decision to return to the village. He pointedly ignored her, knowing she'd follow regardless of her protests. She enjoyed trouble too much to stay behind.
Later, after pleading exhaustion and retreating to his room, Kai stood at the window and watched the moon rise—nearly full, casting silver light across Thornhaven's sprawling grounds. The estate had been Silas's punishment after a political misstep at court—banishment to a remote property with only a single servant and, eventually, Kai as companions. What had begun as punishment had transformed over time into something like freedom, especially after Thorne had appeared at their borders, drawn by the ancient magic that permeated the land.
Now it was home—the only real one Kai had ever known. Which made his current restlessness all the more confusing. He should be content to stay, to continue his haphazard magical training, to enjoy the safety and comfort of Thornhaven.
Instead, all he could think about was getting back to Mistwood. Back to danger and mystery and a man who looked at him with eyes full of stars and warnings.
“This is a terrible idea,” Briar announced, materializing on his windowsill. “Just so we're clear about that.”
“Noted,” Kai replied, already changing into darker clothes suitable for nighttime travel. “Are you coming or staying?”
The sprite sighed dramatically, wings fluttering with irritation. “Like I'd let you walk into trouble alone. Who would be around to say 'I told you so' when it all goes wrong?”
Kai grinned, tucking a small knife into his boot. “That's the spirit.”
The journey back to Mistwood took less time under cover of darkness, with fewer distractions and no pretense of casual travel. Kai moved with purpose, Briar alternating between riding on his shoulder and scouting ahead, her tiny form glowing faintly in the moonlight.
“We could still turn back,” she suggested as the first outlying buildings of the village came into view. “Tell Silas we wanted an early start on more shopping.”
“Where's your sense of adventure?” Kai whispered, crouching behind a fallen log to survey the approach. The village appeared quiet, with only a few windows still showing light. A single guard stood at the main gate, looking half-asleep.
“My sense of adventure is fine, thank you. It's my sense of self-preservation that's screaming right now.”
Kai patted her tiny head with the tip of his finger. “It'll be fine. We're just following up on a mysterious note from a stranger in a village full of people who don't like outsiders. What could possibly go wrong?”
“I hate you,” Briar muttered, but there was no real venom in it.
They circled around to a less guarded side entrance, a gap in the village wall where repairs had been neglected. Once inside, Kai kept to the shadows, avoiding the pools of moonlight that would make him too visible. He'd memorized the directions from the note—the old well behind the tanner's shop, after moonrise.
The well was exactly where the note had described, nestled in a small courtyard between buildings. A single lantern hung from the structure's roof, casting just enough light to see by. The place appeared deserted, which immediately put Kai on edge.
“I don't like this,” Briar whispered from her perch on his collar. “Smells like a trap.”
“Or a legitimate meeting that we're early for,” Kai countered, though his hand drifted to the knife in his boot. “Either way, we'll find out soon enough.”
They didn't have to wait long. After perhaps ten minutes, a figure emerged from the shadows of a nearby alley—an older woman Kai recognized as the baker who had smiled at him earlier in the day.
“You came,” she said softly, looking relieved but also nervous. “I wasn't sure you would.”
“Your note was intriguing,” Kai replied, maintaining a safe distance. “Hard to resist the promise of answers.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder, as if worried about being followed. “I can't stay long. The Keepers watch for those who speak to outsiders, especially after dark.”
“Keepers?”
“Those who guard the old ways. The ones who think silence and isolation are the only ways to keep the village safe.” Her weathered face creased with disapproval. “They aren't wrong that something is stirring, but their fear blinds them to the possibility that change might not be destruction.”
Kai found himself liking this woman, despite the cryptic nature of her words. “You mentioned someone in your note. A man with star-eyes?”
She nodded. “Eliar. He's been here longer than anyone can remember. Never ages, keeps to himself. Most people forget he exists until they happen to see him—a strange effect, like the mind slides right off him unless you're looking directly at him.”
A small shiver ran down Kai's spine. Not human, then. Not entirely.
“And you think he has answers about what's happening here? About the... stirring?”
“I believe he's part of it,” she replied. “The dreams began shortly after he arrived, centuries ago according to the oldest stories. Just glimpses at first—falling stars, broken wings, a guardian cast out. But lately they've grown stronger, more frequent.” She met his gaze directly. “Since you arrived, they've become almost unbearable in their clarity.”
Kai absorbed this, unsure what to make of it. “Where can I find him?”
“There's an old temple in the forest east of the village. Just ruins now, but sacred still. He goes there sometimes, when the stars are bright.” She reached into her apron pocket and withdrew a small, folded piece of parchment. “A map. The path isn't obvious unless you know what to look for.”
As Kai took the parchment, the woman grasped his wrist with surprising strength. “Be careful,” she urged. “Not just of him, but of those who fear him. The Keepers would rather destroy what they don't understand than risk awakening something beyond their control.”
“Cheerful bunch,” Kai muttered.
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “We're not all like them. Some of us remember the old stories properly—that the fallen star brought protection, not doom. That his sleeping power guards us still, even in his exile.”
Before Kai could ask what she meant, the sound of approaching footsteps made her stiffen. “I must go. Follow the map. And whatever you discover...” She hesitated. “Remember that not all that sleeps should remain dormant.”
With that cryptic parting statement, she slipped back into the shadows of the alley, leaving Kai with more questions than answers.
“Well, that wasn't ominous at all,” Briar remarked dryly.
Kai unfolded the map, studying it in the dim lantern light. The drawing was simple but clear, marking a path through the eastern forest to what appeared to be a circular clearing. “What do you think? Obvious trap or genuine lead?”
“Both?” Briar suggested. “That's usually how these things go for us.”
Kai couldn't argue with that assessment. Trouble did have a way of finding him, regardless of intentions. “Only one way to find out.”
They slipped out of the village the same way they'd entered, then skirted the eastern edge until they found the trailhead marked on the map. It was barely visible in the darkness—just a subtle break in the underbrush that would be easy to miss if you weren't looking for it.
The forest closed around them like a living entity, the trees growing denser and older the further they traveled from the village. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in dappled patterns, providing just enough illumination to follow the winding path. Strange, luminescent fungi grew in patches along the route, glowing with a soft blue-green light that seemed to pulse in time with Kai's footsteps.
“The magic is stronger here,” he murmured, feeling it resonate beneath his skin like the hum of a distant chord.
Briar nodded, her usual sarcasm temporarily subdued by the ancient power that permeated the forest. “Old magic. Wild magic. Not like the disciplined stuff Silas works with.”
The path curved sharply around a massive oak whose trunk was wider than Kai was tall, and suddenly the trees opened up into a perfectly circular clearing. At its center stood what remained of a temple—crumbling stone columns arranged in a smaller circle, supporting fragments of what had once been a domed roof. The floor was a mosaic of marble and some other stone that gleamed with an inner light, patterns swirling across its surface like slow-moving constellations.
And there, standing in the center of the ruined temple with his face tilted up toward the night sky, was Eliar.
The moonlight transformed him, stripping away the careful ordinariness he'd projected in the village. Here, surrounded by ancient stones and starlight, he looked like what Kai suspected he truly was—something not quite human, something older and infinitely more powerful than his quiet demeanor suggested.
His silver-white hair seemed to capture and amplify the moonlight, creating a soft halo effect. The simple dark clothes he wore no longer appeared mundane but rather like shadows given substance. And though Kai couldn't see his face from this angle, he somehow knew that Eliar's eyes would be glowing with that ethereal inner light he'd glimpsed briefly in the alley.
For a moment, Kai simply watched, strangely reluctant to disturb the tableau. There was something almost sacred about Eliar's stillness, the way he stood communing with the stars above. It felt like interrupting a prayer or witnessing something profoundly private.
But Kai had never been good at restraint, and his curiosity inevitably won out over his brief moment of reverence.
“Do you come here often?” he called out, stepping into the clearing. “Or is this just your special brooding spot for particularly dramatic nights?”
Eliar didn't startle—didn't even turn immediately—but Kai saw his shoulders tense slightly at the intrusion.
“You shouldn't be here,” Eliar said finally, still gazing upward. “How did you find this place?”
Kai approached the temple, feeling the strange energy of the clearing intensify with each step. “Would you believe I have an excellent sense of direction?”
“No.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Kai's lips. “Fair enough. The baker gave me a map. Seems there are some people in your village who don't subscribe to the whole 'fear and isolation' philosophy of these Keeper folks.”
That got Eliar to turn, his expression a mixture of surprise and resignation. And yes, his eyes were indeed glowing—not just reflecting the moonlight but emanating their own soft blue radiance, like stars seen through a thin veil of clouds.
“Marla,” he sighed. “I should have known. She's always been too curious for her own good.”
“A trait I can appreciate,” Kai said, climbing the worn stone steps to enter the temple proper. Up close, the mosaic floor was even more remarkable—the patterns weren't random but deliberate, depicting what appeared to be a star chart of incredible complexity. “So, this is where you come to commune with the cosmos? Very on-brand for the mysterious village recluse.”
A flicker of something that might have been amusement crossed Eliar's face. “Is there a purpose to your intrusion, or do you simply enjoy putting yourself in danger?”
“Can't it be both?” Kai countered, moving closer. “I have questions. You have answers. Seems like a natural arrangement.”
“What makes you think I have answers?”
“Well, for starters, your eyes are literally glowing, which suggests you're not exactly the average village hermit.” Kai gestured to the temple around them. “Plus, there's... this. Whatever this is. Ancient temple to forgotten gods? Your personal meditation spot? Excellent place for clandestine stargazing?”
To Kai's surprise and delight, the corner of Eliar's mouth twitched upward—the barest hint of a smile, there and gone so quickly he might have imagined it.
“You talk a lot,” Eliar observed.
“Defense mechanism,” Kai admitted easily. “Plus, someone has to fill the conversational void when faced with tall, brooding, and mysterious types who communicate primarily in cryptic warnings and significant silences.”
This time, the smile lingered a fraction longer. “Has anyone ever told you that you're exhausting?”
“Frequently. I take it as a compliment.” Kai took another step closer, noting with interest how Eliar didn't back away. “So, are you going to tell me what's going on? Why the village is on edge? Why plants bloom when I walk past? Why your eyes look like they've swallowed stars?”
Eliar studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost reluctant. “Some questions are dangerous, Kai Everwood. Not because of the answers themselves, but because of what happens once you know them.”
“I'm not afraid of dangerous knowledge,” Kai said, finding that he meant it. “I'm not afraid of you, either, if that's what you're worried about.”
“Perhaps you should be.”
The words held no threat, only a sort of weary sadness that made something in Kai's chest tighten unexpectedly. Without thinking, he reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Eliar's arm.
The contact was electric—literally. A spark jumped between them, bright enough to momentarily illuminate the entire temple. Kai felt it like a shock wave through his system, magic responding to magic, power calling to power. From Eliar's sharp intake of breath, he'd felt it too.
“What was that?” Kai whispered, his hand still outstretched though no longer touching Eliar.
“A resonance,” Eliar replied, his voice rough-edged. “Your magic responding to...” He hesitated. “To what remains of mine.”
“Your magic doesn't feel diminished to me,” Kai said honestly. The power radiating from Eliar was unlike anything he'd ever encountered—ancient and vast, like standing at the edge of an ocean at night.
Eliar laughed, a sound so unexpected and yet so beautiful that Kai found himself momentarily speechless. It was a laugh tinged with bitterness but genuine nonetheless.
“You have no context for comparison,” Eliar said. “What you sense is merely an echo of what once was.”
“Then it must have been terrifying,” Kai murmured. “Because even the echo is...” He trailed off, unable to find words adequate to describe the sensation.
A silence fell between them, not uncomfortable but charged with unspoken questions. Around them, the temple ruins seemed to breathe, the strange constellations in the floor shifting imperceptibly beneath their feet.
“You should go back to Thornhaven,” Eliar said eventually, though with less conviction than his earlier warnings. “This isn't your concern. This village, these dreams, me—none of it has anything to do with you.”
“Except it does,” Kai countered. “My magic reacts to this place. To you. The land itself responds when I pass. I don't understand it, but I can feel it.” He met Eliar's gaze directly. “And I think you can too.”
Eliar looked away first, his jaw tightening. “Whatever connection you think exists, whatever answers you're seeking—they won't bring you peace. Only complications. Dangers you aren't prepared for.”
“You know what your problem is?” Kai asked, stepping closer again, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from Eliar's skin. “You're so focused on all the terrible possibilities that you can't see any other outcome. Maybe, just maybe, there's a reason I'm here. A reason my magic responds to yours. A reason the village is dreaming of falling stars right when I happen to show up.”
“Coincidence,” Eliar said, but the word lacked conviction.
“Is it, though?” Kai raised an eyebrow. “Because in my admittedly limited experience, the universe doesn't deal in coincidences that specific.”
Their gazes locked, a silent battle of wills that made the air between them practically crackle with tension. Kai was acutely aware of how close they stood, of the faint scent of something like ozone and distant stars that clung to Eliar, of the way the starlight filtering through the broken dome overhead painted silver patterns across his impossibly perfect features.
“I am trying,” Eliar said finally, each word careful and deliberate, “to protect you from involvement in something that has destroyed lives before. That could destroy yours.”
“I appreciate the concern,” Kai replied, unable to keep a hint of teasing from his voice despite the seriousness of the conversation. “But I think it's a bit late for warnings about getting involved.”
“Is that so?”
“Definitely.” Kai gestured between them. “Mysterious stranger, ancient temple, glowing eyes, magical resonance? I'd say I'm pretty thoroughly involved already.”
Something in Eliar's expression shifted, the stern mask cracking just enough to reveal a glimpse of the being beneath—someone who carried the weight of centuries but could still be caught off guard by a moment of unexpected honesty.
“You're unlike anyone I've encountered in a very long time,” Eliar said, sounding faintly bewildered by the realization.
Kai grinned. “I get that a lot. Usually right before someone tries to kill me or kick me out of their village.”
“I can see why.” But there was no malice in the words. If anything, there was a reluctant warmth that made Kai's heart beat a little faster.
Before either could speak again, a sound from the forest edge caught their attention—a snap of twigs, the rustle of underbrush. Eliar moved with inhuman speed, placing himself between Kai and the potential threat, his entire demeanor shifting from reluctant conversation partner to something far more dangerous.
“We're not alone,” he said quietly, the glow in his eyes intensifying. “And I doubt our company is friendly.”
Kai reached for the knife in his boot, his own magic rising instinctively to the surface, ready for whatever emerged from the darkness of the forest. But despite the obvious danger, he couldn't suppress a small, entirely inappropriate thrill of excitement.
Whatever was happening here—whatever Eliar was, whatever connection existed between them—it was the most interesting thing that had happened to him in years. And interesting, Kai had always felt, was worth almost any risk.
“Too late to run away now,” he murmured, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with Eliar rather than behind him. “Looks like you're stuck with me.”
Eliar shot him a look that was equal parts exasperation and something softer, more complicated. “So it seems,” he replied, and there was a note in his voice that sounded almost like resignation.
Or acceptance.
The forest around them grew unnaturally still, the ambient sounds of night creatures suddenly silenced. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Kai felt his pulse quicken, adrenaline mixing with something else—a restless energy that coursed through his veins like liquid fire.
“What is it?” he whispered, eyes straining to penetrate the darkness beyond the temple clearing.
Eliar didn't answer immediately, his attention focused on the treeline, body coiled with a predatory tension that only emphasized how inhuman he truly was. “I'm not certain,” he finally said. “But it feels... wrong.”
The energy inside Kai spiked suddenly, a surge of magic so unexpected and powerful that he gasped. It felt like being struck by lightning—not painful, exactly, but overwhelming, as if his skin couldn't possibly contain the force building within him. His hands began to glow, wisps of golden light curling around his fingers like living smoke.
“What the hell?” he breathed, staring at his hands in confusion. His magic had always been unpredictable, but this was different. This wasn't his magic misbehaving—this was his magic answering a call he couldn't hear, responding to something he didn't understand.
Eliar's gaze snapped to him, those star-filled eyes widening in alarm. “Kai?—”
Before he could finish, the ground beneath them shuddered. The intricate mosaic floor of the temple, which had been merely shimmering before, now blazed with light. What Kai had taken for abstract constellation patterns revealed themselves as symbols of incredible complexity—curves and angles and spirals that seemed to shift as he looked at them, rearranging themselves into new configurations that somehow made perfect sense even though he couldn't possibly understand their meaning.
Celestial markings. Ancient language. The script of stars.
“This is... not ideal,” Eliar muttered, and the understatement was so absurd in the context that Kai would have laughed if the situation weren't so utterly bizarre.
The magic continued to build, no longer contained to his hands but radiating from his entire body now, responding to the awakening symbols beneath his feet. It felt simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating, like standing at the edge of a cliff and feeling the urge to jump just to know what flying would feel like before the impact.
“What's happening?” he managed to ask, his voice strained. “Is this you or me?”
“Both,” Eliar said, and for the first time since they'd met, he sounded genuinely rattled. “It's both of us. Your magic is... it's triggering something in mine.”
As if to confirm his words, a shimmer of blue-white light began to emanate from Eliar as well—fainter than Kai's golden glow, but unmistakably similar in quality. The two energies reached for each other, tendrils of gold and silver-blue intertwining in the space between them.
“Oh, that's definitely not normal,” Kai said, aiming for casual but achieving something closer to breathless wonder.
“It shouldn't be possible,” Eliar whispered, and there was something in his voice—grief? longing? hope?—that made Kai's chest ache with an emotion he couldn't name. “My power has been dormant for centuries. Locked away. Part of my punishment.”
“Well, it doesn't look very dormant right now.” Kai gestured to the glowing markings on the floor, which had begun to spiral outward from where they stood, climbing the crumbling temple columns like luminous vines. “In fact, it looks decidedly active and possibly about to explode.”
Despite the tension of the moment, Eliar's lips twitched into what might almost have been a smile. “Your talent for understatement is remarkable.”
“I have many talents,” Kai replied automatically, though his mind was racing, trying to process what was happening. The magic surging through him felt both foreign and achingly familiar, as if it had always been a part of him but had been sleeping until now. Until Eliar. “Is this dangerous? Are we about to, I don't know, tear a hole in reality or something equally dramatic?”
Eliar shook his head, uncertain. “I don't know. This shouldn't be happening at all. My connection to the celestial realm was severed when I fell.”
“When you—” Kai started to ask, fascinated despite the circumstances, but Eliar suddenly tensed, his attention snapping back to the forest edge.
“It's here,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Kai turned to look, and immediately wished he hadn't. At the edge of the clearing, where the forest shadows were deepest, something moved. Not a person or an animal, but a distortion in the fabric of reality itself—a smudge of absolute darkness that seemed to absorb the moonlight around it. It had no definite shape, its edges constantly shifting and reforming, but there was a horrible suggestion of limbs, of a mouth filled with void.
“What the fuck is that?” Kai breathed, his hand tightening around the knife he'd drawn earlier, though he seriously doubted it would be of any use against... whatever this was.
“A consequence,” Eliar said grimly. “Of our magic awakening together. The barriers between realms grow thin in this place. What sleeps in the darkness between stars sometimes... notices.”
The shadow-thing moved forward, not quite touching the ground, a silent glide that was somehow more terrifying than any sound it might have made. The celestial markings on the temple floor flickered as it approached, as if recoiling from its presence.
“So, fight or flight?” Kai asked, trying to sound brave even as the sight of the creature filled him with a primal, instinctive dread. “Because I'm game for either, but I'd appreciate some guidance from the apparently celestial being in the room.”
Eliar's hand closed around his arm, grip firm but gentle. “Neither,” he said, his eyes never leaving the approaching shadow. “My power is still too weak to confront it directly, and yours is too unpredictable. We need to break the connection that's drawing it here.”
“And how do we do that?”
“We run,” Eliar said simply. “Now.”
He tugged Kai's arm, pulling him toward the far side of the temple, away from both the shadow-thing and the path back to the village. Kai hesitated for just a moment, some stubborn part of him reluctant to flee from a fight, but another look at the writhing darkness quickly overrode that impulse.
“Running sounds good,” he agreed, turning to follow Eliar.
As they sprinted away from the temple, Kai could feel the golden energy still coursing through him, responding to Eliar's proximity, to the ancient power of the place they were leaving behind. Behind them, he heard a sound that wasn't quite a sound—more like the absence of noise, a void that swallowed even the concept of silence.
The shadow was following.