Art Catsinni.
The forest closed around them like a living wall, its canopy twisting high overhead, blotting out much of the morning light. Birds cried out distantly, their calls muffled beneath the thick branches, and the horses’ hooves sank into soil soft with centuries of fallen leaves. Jihye felt the air change the moment they crossed deeper into the trees. It was thicker here, humming with the weight of old magic. Every creak of wood, every shifting shadow carried a warning. She kept her hand near the hilt of her knife, her fox ears twitching faintly beneath the illusion of her human form, alert to every subtle sound.
Rafael rode ahead, posture upright and watchful, while Caleb glanced nervously over his shoulder every few moments. Joaquin, who had introduced himself quietly upon their first pause to water the horses, kept his distance behind them, bow at the ready. His presence was calming, but it did little to dispel the oppressive atmosphere of the forest. Jihye could not shake the sensation of being observed, as though eyes moved with them between the branches. The feeling grew until even the horses became restless, flicking their ears and tossing their heads uneasily.
Then came the whisper of movement.
Something blurred between the trees. Jihye barely had time to draw breath before an arrow sang past her cheek, grazing her hair and sinking into the bark of a nearby oak. She ducked low, heart racing.
The assassin emerged with the grace of a panther. Lithe, clad in dark leathers that blended into the forest, she held twin daggers in her hands and a bow slung across her back. Her movements were sharp, precise, and each step was calculated. Her eyes gleamed with merciless intent, and the shadows seemed to cling to her as if aiding her strike.
Caleb scrambled from his saddle as the assassin lunged. The first strike was aimed at Rafael, who twisted aside, his staff flashing up to parry the dagger. Sparks of magic flared, lighting the dark hollow where they fought. Jihye drew her knife and moved forward, but the assassin was already spinning, her second dagger slicing through the air toward her. Jihye ducked, the blade nicking her sleeve. The cold of the steel sent a shiver through her.
They fought fiercely, but the assassin’s speed outstripped them. Her movements were like water, flowing and unpredictable, each strike intended to kill. Jihye slashed and lunged, shifting between human and fox with bursts of instinct, but the assassin countered each move, pressing them back. Rafael shouted, calling fire to his staff, but the assassin dodged, slipping through the flames with unnatural agility. Caleb tried to strike with his short sword, only to be knocked flat by a boot to his chest, the air driven from his lungs.
The assassin pressed them with a cold patience, her strikes swift, her footwork light. Jihye blocked a dagger with her knife, feeling the shock ripple up her arm, and only narrowly twisted away from a second slash that might have cut her throat. She countered with a swipe in fox form, claws flashing, but the assassin pivoted, her face expressionless, her eyes dead calm. That stillness frightened Jihye more than rage ever could. This was a killer, trained and sure.
Jihye lunged again, only for the assassin to twist and send her sprawling against a root, the breath knocked from her. She looked up just in time to see a dagger arcing down toward her throat.
It seemed hopeless—until a second arrow hissed from the trees.
This one struck true. The assassin froze, her dagger mid-strike, as an arrow jutted from her shoulder. She hissed, eyes flashing in shock, and turned toward the treeline.
From the shadows stepped a figure, tall and commanding. A wood elf. His bow was still drawn, another arrow notched, his expression calm but unyielding. His hair was pale as silver bark, his armour worked from green leather and living vines.
“You trespass where you should not,” the elf said, his voice resonant and edged with steel. “And you seek to kill beneath the gaze of the wood.”
The assassin snarled, tried to lunge again, but another arrow pierced her leg, driving her to the ground. Rafael stepped forward and, with a twist of his hand, sent a tether of fire that pinned her to the earth. Jihye kicked away her dagger, breathing hard.
Together, they turned the body over. The assassin coughed blood, her lips curling in defiance even as her strength failed. Jihye’s gaze caught the seal burned into the leather of her belt. A familiar sigil: a coiled serpent, crowned with thorns.
Valerian’s mark.
Her stomach sank. “He sent her,” she whispered. “He’s still following us.”
The elf’s eyes narrowed as he studied the seal. He slung his bow over his shoulder and stood tall. “You will come with me,” he said firmly. “The King will hear this.”
Rafael straightened, wiping blood from his sleeve. “We have no quarrel with your people.”
“Perhaps not. But Valerian’s quarrel has found you here, and now it touches our borders. That is cause enough.”
There was no choice. They nodded, gathered their belongings, and followed the elf deeper into the woods.
The wood elf led them through twisting paths where the trees grew even denser, roots knotted high as walls and branches arching overhead like cathedral ceilings. After hours of walking, the forest opened into a hidden glade. Here, carved into the trunks of colossal trees, was a settlement of wood elves. Platforms wound around branches, rope bridges linking them, lanterns glowing with captured starlight. The air thrummed with quiet life and watchful gazes. Children darted between roots with the quickness of rabbits, and hunters with green-painted faces eyed them as they passed.
They were guided to a great hall grown from the heart of an ancient oak, its doorway tall and arched. Inside, the King awaited.
He was broad-shouldered for a wood elf, his hair long and braided with silver threads. His crown was woven from living branches that shifted and sprouted tiny leaves as he moved. His eyes were sharp, but there was wisdom in their depth. The hall was filled with the scents of resin and herbs, the flicker of green-tinted flame casting long shadows on the walls. Carvings along the walls depicted hunts, battles, and rites of passage, all etched with a precision that made the figures seem alive.
The elf who had rescued them bowed low. “My King, I bring trespassers who fought an assassin bearing the mark of men. They claim to be hunted by Valerian.”
The King turned his gaze upon them. “Speak.”
Rafael explained first, his voice measured and precise. He told of Valerian’s wrath, of Jihye’s escape and the cultists who had sought her blood, of Ellamerelda’s intrusion and the danger she posed. As the words unfurled, Jihye felt the King’s eyes on her, weighing her soul. She shifted uneasily but did not look away.
At last, he nodded slowly. “This is no small burden you carry. To bring the wrath of Valerian and the fae upon these woods is dangerous indeed.”
Jihye met his gaze firmly. “We did not choose it. But we will not stop. Not while they hunt us.”
The King was silent for a long time, then inclined his head. “Rest here tonight. Your bodies are weary, and your supplies are poor. My people will grant you food and shelter. But know this: come dawn, you cannot remain. Ellamerelda’s eyes stretch further than mine, and I cannot risk her wrath upon our young.”
Relief washed over Jihye despite his words. A single night of true safety was more than she had hoped for.
They were led to a quiet glade within the settlement where soft furs and woven mats awaited them. Food was brought: fresh bread, roasted roots, and spiced venison. They ate until full, warmth settling into their bones. Jihye found herself smiling for the first time in days, watching Caleb laugh softly at something one of the elven youths said. Rafael, though reserved, allowed himself the comfort of silence without vigilance. That night, they slept deeply, dreamless, the watchful eyes of wood elf sentinels keeping the shadows at bay.
Morning came golden, light streaming through the canopy. The King awaited them again, standing tall in the hall. By his side was another elf, striking in presence. Joaquin.
He was tall and svelte, his hair a flame-red cascade cut short but flowing, his skin inked with woodland tattoos spiralling down both arms. His presence was calm, but his eyes were kind, and his bow rested with practised ease at his back. The tattoos glowed faintly as he moved, as though alive with the magic of the forest.
“You cannot remain,” the King said once more, voice resonant. “But you shall not leave unguarded. Joaquin, one of my personal guards, will travel with you. His eyes and his arrows will be yours.”
Jihye stepped forward, bowing her head. “Thank you, my lord. And thank you, Joaquin.”
The King smiled faintly, then drew her into a sudden embrace. His hand moved against her cloak, resting briefly over the pocket where the bronze amulet lay. At once, it flared warm against her skin, glowing faintly. Her eyes widened in shock.
The King leaned close, his voice a whisper meant only for her. “There is more than you know. Your journey is more important than you yet understand. I cannot say more now.”
Jihye tried to speak, but his gaze silenced her. He sighed, and his voice softened. “Remember, Arcanthus. That is all I will say.”
Confusion flickered in her mind, but she nodded, swallowing her questions. She stepped back, gratitude in her eyes, even as uncertainty coiled within her heart. Caleb glanced at her curiously but did not press. Rafael’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.
The King lifted a hand in farewell. Joaquin stepped forward, bow slung over his back, his red hair catching the sunlight. “Shall we?” he asked gently.
And so, with new strength and a new companion, they left the safety of the wood elves’ hidden haven. The forest paths stretched wide before them, the weight of fate pressing heavier on Jihye’s shoulders than ever before. Yet for the first time, she felt that perhaps the burden was not hers alone to bear. A whisper of hope stirred within her chest, even as the mysteries deepened and the shadows lengthened on the path ahead.