"Third Point of view"
The night was suffocating, heavy with an unnatural silence that blanketed the ruined village. Kael's boots crunched against broken stones and scattered debris, every step weighed down by exhaustion and the burning ache in his muscles. His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, clouds of mist disappearing quickly in the cold air.
Around him, shadows writhed like living things. The cursed dead, their eyes glowing with malevolent hunger, clawed and snarled, desperate to drag him into their decaying embrace. Their rotten hands scraped at the edges of the old stone fountain in the village square, an ancient monument long forgotten—except by those who knew its dark secret.
Kael gritted his teeth, feeling the sting of dried blood crusting on his palms where his sword had slipped during the earlier fight. The scent of rot and burnt flesh filled the air, pressing down on his senses. He glanced behind—no backup in sight yet. This was his fight, and his alone.
Suddenly, a flare pierced the blackness—bright, defiant—a signal to those who still cared, to those who still fought. The flare's flare lit the silhouettes of men and women rushing through the woods, weapons drawn and faces grim.
"Hold on, Kael!" Eleyna's voice cut through the night like a blade, steady and urgent.
He allowed himself a flicker of hope before it was snuffed out by the flicker of movement to his right—a shadow sliding through the darkness like liquid smoke. The veiled woman emerged, her figure wrapped in a tattered black cloak, face hidden beneath a hood.
Her voice slithered out, cold and venomous. "Leon Drayven… you cannot escape what awaits you. Death is patient."
Kael tightened his grip on his sword, muscles coiling for the inevitable clash. The flare's light forced the shadows around her to recoil, but the darkness was her ally. With a sudden burst, she vanished in a swirl of black mist, only to reappear behind him, a wicked dagger gleaming in her hand.
Pain exploded along his back as the blade carved a burning path, infused with dark magic. Kael stumbled, dropping to one knee, vision swimming as the poison's venom coursed through his veins.
Behind the veil of pain, he heard the crack of boots—a harsh, commanding sound that promised salvation.
Captain Rendar and Eleyna burst into the clearing, their faces set and weapons poised. "Form up!" Rendar commanded. His men spilled from the trees, steel flashing as they surrounded the cursed dead.
Eleyna knelt beside Kael, her hands steady despite the chaos. From her pouch, she drew a small vial filled with shimmering liquid. "Drink this. It'll slow the poison," she said softly, uncorking it and pressing it to his lips.
The bitter taste scorched his throat, but warmth bloomed within, easing the sting and dulling the venom's grasp.
Kael's vision sharpened. He met Eleyna's gaze—fear and determination burning in her eyes. "You came," he whispered.
"We never leave a comrade behind," she replied fiercely.
The veiled woman's form shimmered at the edge of the light, twisting into a sinister smile. "This is far from over, Leon Drayven. I will see you broken and begging before the night ends."
Kael forced himself upright, ignoring the searing pain in his back. "Try."
The dark figure dissolved into the shadows, leaving a chill that crept deep into Kael's bones.
Around them, the cursed corpses collapsed into heaps of crumbling flesh and brittle bones, their life force extinguished.
Rendar's voice was low but urgent. "We move. More will come—and you're vulnerable."
Kael nodded, teeth clenched against the pain. "Take me to the fortress. We prepare."
---
The ride back to the fortress was a harsh blur. The cold bit through their cloaks and armor, but nothing compared to the storm inside Kael's mind.
Eleyna rode beside him, quiet and watchful. She glanced at him occasionally, worry flickering beneath her steely calm.
"What do you know about her?" Kael finally asked, voice hoarse.
Eleyna shook her head. "Only what we've heard in whispers—'The Veil,' they call her. A shadow sorceress bound to the cursed dead. She's hunting you."
"Hunting me…" Kael repeated, the weight of his true name settling like a curse. The name Leon Drayven, the title that had once promised power and glory, now a beacon for death itself.
His thoughts swirled with memories—visions of betrayal, hidden enemies, and a past he had fought desperately to forget. But it was no use. The past clawed back with iron claws.
At the fortress gate, guards flung open the heavy doors, and the scent of burning torches and damp stone welcomed them.
Inside the hall, the council waited—grim-faced and tense.
Kael dismounted, every movement agony as he entered the chamber. Eyes fell on his bloodied cloak, the dark stain spreading like a warning.
"We've lost ground," Kael said, voice steady despite the pain. "The Veil is stronger than we anticipated."
Councillor Merek's eyes narrowed. "If she knows your name, she knows your weaknesses."
Kael clenched his fists. "Then we stop running."
A sudden crash interrupted the tense silence—an arrow shattered a stained-glass window, glass raining down like deadly crystals.
Kael spun, sword drawn.
From the shattered frame, a figure dropped—masked, cloaked in shadows, carrying a message sealed with the black dragon insignia.
The figure landed gracefully, moving with lethal purpose.
Rendar shouted, "Protect the lord!"
But before anyone could react, the figure raised a slender hand and the room plunged into darkness, torches extinguished by a silent wave of sorcery.
Chaos erupted—shouts, the clash of steel, desperate scrambling.
In the black void, Kael sensed the figure's approach, cold and merciless.
A whisper echoed in his ear: "You cannot hide from your destiny, Leon."
A flash of steel, a searing pain, and then—
Darkness swallowed him whole.
---
The chamber falls silent except for the echo of Kael's heavy breaths. When the torches flare back to life, Kael is nowhere to be seen. Only a pool of blood remains where he stood—and a single black feather lies on the cold stone floor.
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