Kael's touch was light, almost imperceptible, as he pressed his palm against Lyenne's bleeding side. His usual magic, the one that erased, felt alien in this context. Instead, he channeled a different kind of energy, one he rarely used—a subtle, restorative warmth meant to coax torn flesh to mend and staunch the flow of blood. It was rudimentary healing, a far cry from the powerful sorcery practiced by the healers of Veridia, but it was enough to keep her from fading. Lyenne winced, a soft gasp escaping her lips, but she didn't pull away. The ancient runes on her cloak pulsed faintly in response to his magic, like a sleeping beast stirring.
"It will slow the bleeding," Kael murmured, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile trust that had just formed between them. "But we can't stay here. The Crown's guards will sweep these alleys." He scanned the dark passage, his senses heightened, listening for the tell-tale sounds of approaching footsteps or the distant clatter of armor. The urgency in his tone was real; he knew the ruthlessness of the royal pursuit, even if he usually only dealt with its aftermath.
Lyenne nodded weakly, her gaze still fixed on his, a mixture of pain and a strange, quiet wonder in her eyes. "Where… where do we go?" Her voice was a thin thread, but the question was direct, practical. She wasn't asking if they were going, but where. It was a quiet acceptance of his help, a surprising vulnerability from someone so clearly hunted.
"There's a network," Kael began, choosing his words carefully. He was about to expose a hidden part of his life, something he guarded fiercely. "Places where others… who don't quite fit in… find shelter. It's not grand, but it's safe. For now." He didn't elaborate on why he knew such places, or why he, the invisible sorcerer, was privy to such secrets. He simply offered the path.
He rose to his feet, then gently extended a hand to Lyenne. Her fingers, cold and trembling, curled around his. Even through her cloak, he could feel the vibrant hum of the ancient magic radiating from her. It was a stark contrast to his own ephemeral power, a force that demanded to be remembered while his ensured forgetfulness. As she struggled to stand, leaning heavily on him, Kael felt a peculiar jolt—a silent recognition, a sense of an unspoken bond forming in the shadowed alley. For the first time in his memory, he wasn't just an echo. He was an anchor.
Lyenne leaned heavily against Kael as they navigated the winding back alleys, her steps faltering despite the temporary relief his magic had provided. The glowing runes on her cloak seemed to dim and brighten with each labored breath, a faint, rhythmic pulse in the encroaching darkness. Kael guided her with a firm hand on her arm, acutely aware of the shift in their dynamic. He, the forgotten, was now responsible for remembering her.
He chose the less frequented paths, ducking through narrow passages and cutting across dimly lit courtyards. His years of unnoticed existence had made him adept at navigating the hidden veins of the city. He could feel the residual thrum of the Crown's magic in the air, a distant hum of patrols sweeping through the main thoroughfares, searching. They were close, perhaps too close for comfort.
"Who are you?" Lyenne rasped, her voice a little stronger now, though still laced with pain. Her eyes, still wide and intelligent despite her exhaustion, darted around their surroundings, taking in every shadow, every escape route. She wasn't just a victim; she was a survivor.
Kael hesitated. His usual answer was a blank stare, a confused shrug from the person he'd just interacted with. But she remembered. She knew. "My name is Kael," he said, the sound of his own name feeling strange on his tongue, spoken aloud to someone who wouldn't immediately forget it. "And my magic… it ensures I am forgotten." He didn't offer more, waiting to see if she would react, if the truth of his curse would make her flinch, or pull away.
But Lyenne merely nodded, a grim understanding in her gaze. "I know," she murmured, a flicker of something ancient passing through her eyes. "It's… part of the echoes." She didn't elaborate, leaving Kael with more questions than answers. Her knowledge of his curse, seemingly innate, was unnerving, yet it also offered a strange sense of validation. He wasn't alone in his unique burden, even if the connection was shrouded in mystery.
As they emerged from the final alley into a quieter, dilapidated district, Kael spotted their destination: a crumbling, ivy-covered inn with a single, unlit lantern swinging gently by its weathered door. It looked abandoned, but Kael knew the subtle signs of its hidden life. "We're here," he said, tightening his grip on her arm, urging her forward. "It's not much, but it's safe. For now." The promise hung in the air, fragile but real, as they pushed through the unassuming door, stepping from the hunted streets into the shadowed refuge.