A pale dawn broke over the eastern ridge of Levian, but the mist from the northern cliffs had not yet lifted. It slithered into the woods like smoke, curling around trunks and boulders, muffling the sounds of the world. All was still, save for the hurried footsteps of Leon Vael.
His boots splashed through shallow puddles, his breath ragged. Behind him—too close—he heard it: the soft crack of a twig, a whisper of movement. He was being followed.
The pendant lay tucked beneath his cloak, pulsing faintly with heat. The vision it had shown him still burned in his mind—of the boy in the mountains, of the bloodline hidden in plain sight.
Leon ducked beneath a low-hanging branch and pressed a hand to the bark of a wide pine. "Not here... not yet..." he murmured, forcing himself to still his racing heart.
Then—movement.
A blur in the fog.
Without thinking, Leon whispered a spell under his breath:
"Aegis Umbra" — ('Shield of shadow, guard me now.'}
From his open palm, black mist bloomed, forming a wavering barrier of shadow between him and the trees beyond. Just in time.
A flash of red light streaked from the woods, striking the barrier with a hiss. The shadow shield trembled, cracked, but held.
From the mist, a figure emerged. Hooded. Robed in crimson.
The Red Crown had sent a mage.
Leon took a shaky step back, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his dagger. Not for attack—but defense.
The enemy raised their hand again.
Leon turned on his heel and ran.
Through roots and ravines, branches clawing at his cloak. The forest blurred around him. He didn't stop until the sound of pursuit faded.
Finally, breathless, he stumbled into a shallow cave behind a veil of vines. Darkness swallowed him. He crouched low, heart pounding, whispering to the pendant.
"I need a sign... where are you?"
No answer.
Only the faint hum of magic pulsing from the flame-shaped relic in his hand.
He was not alone in the search.
And the enemy no longer waited behind palace walls.
They hunted in the mist.