“When my son was ten, he wanted to learn how to hunt, so I took him out with me one day when I didn’t need to go to the field. We tracked down a fawn, a tiny little thing. It was resting. Might have lost its mother. He grabbed the bow we’d brought and tried to pull it back. It wasn’t one of the mighty longbows some in the military use. No, It was one to hunt small animals. I’ve seen dozens of the other children use it, so why couldn’t my son? I shot the fawn in his place, and told him to kill it with his claws. When he couldn’t, that was when I knew he was Colorless.”

Kieran across from Belezan, listening to another one of his stories. He’d been telling them for the last two days whenever they rested, which seemed to happen every ten minutes. Instead of saving his breath, he’d ramble on and on about his past. He wasn’t sure if this was a good sign. Did Belezan trust him now, or was this dying man simply trying to tell the story of his life so he could live on in a way?

They continued on their journey south. Belezan couldn’t walk on his own anymore, and used Kieran as a crutch. The gashes in the old man’s back were beginning to show signs of infection. Not only was the skin around the wound as red as his blood, it oozed puss, and smelled like death. He managed only to hold onto the contents of his stomach, because he had nothing in there to regurgitate.

They were now two walking corpses.

Mist Mountain was within reach, a few minutes a most. However, their pace was too slow to make it that day. They took shelter in a small cave located at the top of a slight incline. He rested first, holding back the worries that Belezan would kill him in his sleep. The old man couldn’t make it on his own.

Hours later, it didn’t take much to wake him up for his shift. There had been strange guttural howling all night and it kept him at the edge of sleep. As Belezan laid on his side, turning away so as to show his back, Kieran wondered if he’d wake up at all in a few hours.

Belezan had been a simple farmer like everyone else in his village. He told Kieran stories about how close the war had gotten to his home and how they were almost conscripted. They ran to the mountains and hid there for days. He got close to his wife there and they married a few years later. His tales were rather boring, mundane things mostly centering around the village. The furthest he’d gone from home was a town in the west, five days away, when his wife was sick. She had complications in childbirth and fewer merchants were stopping by the village due to the finishing of a new road. When he returned with the medicine, she’d passed.

The old man had nothing left. It was hard not to feel something for him.

From the entrance of the cave, he saw faint light leaking from gaps between the trees. They were still far away, yet It had to be them, their pursuers. Who else would still be trudging through the forest well past midnight? Kieran went to wake Belezan. The old man jumped up with a burst of energy, pushing Kieran back. His claws were out and he regarded him with a dangerous gaze.

“W-What were you doing?” Belezan asked while he backed away, his left hand clenched into a tight fist.

The three fresh claw marks on his skin stung, “They’re here. We have to go.”

That changed his tune. He hobbled up to Kieran and they left. It had been days since there were any signs of them so he’d conserved his energy by not using his shadows to erase their prints. Now, they wiped away their tracks as best they could. It wasn’t perfect, but it’d stall them.

Both of their breathing had turned ragged, Belezan because every part of his body was failing him, and Kieran because he hadn’t gotten any rest and was essentially carrying an extra hundred pounds. In less than five minutes, they needed to take a break. The light that seemed a good distance away was now visible through the thick treeline.

They found a small path and that helped a bit.

Belezan eventually grew too tired and held on tighter, allowing more of his weight for Kieran to carry but never holding on with his left hand. After some point, they could hear voices, the shuffling of feet, and the rustling of dry plantlife as their pursuers picked up their pace. Soon, they’d send forward pairs to try and stall them. Kieran glanced at Belezan who was already watching him from the corner of his eye.

“We-We can make it,” he said, trying to muster as much cheer as possible. “I, it’s right there! And… And even if they catch us, they’ll need to try me. I don’t know what you’ve done, but I’ll-'' Kieran grabbed Belezan’s left hand and pried his fingers open. There it was, the key. The one he swallowed before must’ve been one of the many that were on the guard’s keychain. “Don’t,” he said.

Kieran endured the pain, even as tears blurred his vision and Belezan’s dirty claws left gashes in his already broken arm. He unlocked the shackles that bound them together and pushed him away. Belezan collapsed, unable to support his own weight. A feeble hand reached out and Kieran hesitated. Then, the old man screamed. It curled his blood and he felt as if he’d just killed someone’s child in front of their eyes. He ran and took a detour from the small path, sliding down a rocky incline and injuring his feet more.

Hearing Belezan’s screams, the guards rushed their location. His screams continued to echo through the forest until they reached him. No more screaming, only the sounds of hundreds of small rocks rolling down behind him. A glance back had an arrow plant itself in his shoulder. He gasped and stumbled toward a tree. Five seconds. That was how long he stayed glued to it, but it felt like an eternity, as if the tree’s bark assimilated his skin and wouldn’t let him leave.

Kieran kept running. The distance between them grew shorter. Arrows whizzed by, some that came too close were blocked by his shadows. An Essence bolt forced him to use a barrier, and drained him of strength. He couldn’t fight. When the second arrow pierced his back, he dropped to all fours. Saliva and tears fell freely as his consciousness ebbed.

“Finally,” said the captain. “We caught you.”

A sharp pain, worse than the two arrows, radiated from his chest. He coughed up blood and fell to his stomach. Three pairs of legs blocked his view of Mist Mountain, just a bit further away.

He mustered strength into his limbs. Someone stomped on his back and he lost all his air. “It would be better if you just died.”

Kieran heard a sword cutting through the air.

 

---

 

When he was awoken by a guttural howl, he was back in the cave. He fumbled with his clothes and pulled out the pendant just in time to see the number change from “1” to “0”. It’d be a few more minutes until he was on duty. He still hadn’t decided on what to do. If they started now, he wasn’t sure they’d get away in time. Belezan needed to rest too much.

When he came over to wake him, Kieran quickly got up.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked with a forced smile.

“No. You go ahead though.”

Belezan laid down and turned away from him. Kieran sat in silence, knowing he was wasting precious seconds. If he forced him to give up the key, he’d scream again, alerting their pursuers and that would be the end of it. The pendant had no more charges. Using magic was also out of the question. He needed to preserve as much as possible in case they caught up to him.

His heart and breathing quickened as he stood. He closed the distance between them, slowly gathering more and more of the chain in his hands. Mere feet away from Belezan, the old man sat up suddenly. It scared the life out of him, but he hadn’t turned around.

He stepped closer, ready to do what he needed to do.

“Hey,” Belezan said, stopping him cold.

“Wh-what is it?”

“I know we didn’t start off on the right foot, but thank you for taking me this far. And thank you for putting my son to rest.”

“Yeah.” He could feel his will faltering as he looked at the back of the pathetic old man.

“It was difficult keeping all those feelings in.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know why you’re running from the law, or what happened to you, but I hope you can tell me sometime in the future.”

“Yeah,” he said as he quietly let the chain loosen.

“When the key finally comes out, I’ll let you go.”

Kieran froze. The old man still didn’t trust him. He grit his teeth. As Belezan turned, he struck. Using the chain, he wrapped it around his neck, planted his knee on his exposed back, and pulled with all his might. Instantly, Belezan clawed at his forearms. He’d been concealing his claws the whole time. The key dropped to the ground but he didn’t let up.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he kept the chain tight. “I’m sorry.”

Belezan’s head was thrown back, his bloodshot eyes filled with panic and rage. His left arm was fatigued and the broken bones begged him to let go. He couldn’t. If he did, Belezan would give their position away. He held onto the chain as he whispered, “I’m sorry,” while Belezan’s panic and anger relaxed and tears ran down his cheeks. Finally, after a few more seconds, his body went limp.

When he dropped to the ground, Kieran went for the key. He dropped it. He dropped it again, and again. His hands were shaking too much to properly hold it. With a shrill, manic, grunt, he pressed his chained hand to the ground and wormed the key into the hole. When the shackle opened, he burst out of the cave and into the forest. The light was closer than when they first left, but he didn’t have to stop now. He kept running without rest.

By the time he broke out of the forest and into the open field in Mist Mountain’s territory, he saw their torches lighting up the side of the cave. The unified light split into two smaller groups, one that stayed near the cave, and another that followed his tracks. Three fourths of the way across the field, an essence bolt zipped past his head. Another followed. He dived to the side and kept running for the cover of the next forest.

They were gaining ground. He’d made it much further than last time. Mist Mountain was within reach. However, he didn’t know how far they would follow him. They wouldn’t risk war with the five clans, but they resided somewhere much further up the mountain, and as long as no one saw them trespassing, there would be no repercussions.

Essence bolts and arrows hit the trees that now covered his escape. Confident in their strength, faster individuals split off in pursuit. They spread themselves wide, like a net, hoping to encircle him. He flung weak shadow bolts and tried to trip the ones who got too close. As they tightened the circle, the figurative noose around his neck, a guttural howl drew their attention.

One of the pursuers was tackled by a large humanoid beast, with thick arms, long silver hair, and two three-tipped antlers. Its sturdy, crested stout withstood the man’s claws and allowed the beast to tear into his flesh. It reeked of soil, earth, and blood. As it lept toward another person, the moonlight shone on its face. Razor sharp teeth, brownish skin hidden underneath a second outer layer of bone, and dilated eyes as wide as a palm, made up its features.

It was a langqart. A monster that lived beneath forests near mountains. Rumored to be corrupted forms of land gods who perished during The Sundering. They were either slumbering and slothful creatures, or malevolent forces of destruction.

The langqart tossed on man aside like a bug and ripped into the neck of another. Together they’d have a chance, but on their own, none of them were powerful enough to take it on. Their Essence and Flow control were magnitudes lower than his own.

The individuals who had broken off in pursuit, stalled the langqart. It let out its signature guttural howl, and wolves emerged from behind the trees. The langqart feasted on another person while the wolves chased them away. Kieran didn’t miss his chance. They were too preoccupied to deal with him. As he neared the forest’s edge, he suddenly fell face first to the ground.

Pain radiated from his back and he could just barely see the shafts of two arrows. He tried to take a breath, but he felt a violent backlash. He tasted iron, and saw his blood stain the ground. One arrow had pierced his lung. The man holding the bow threw it aside as a trio of frothing wolves appeared. Two chased after him while the bigger one set his eyes on Kieran.

It pounced, knowing that he was weak. Kieran called forth a shadow bolt and blew back the wolf. It hadn’t died, nor did it seem to be scared off. It growled and slowly approached. Either his eyes were filled with tears, or his consciousness was fading. Most likely both. With pained breaths, he mustered all the strength he had into his limbs and inched toward the mountain path’s entrance. “Uuugggghh…!” He let out a pained, desperate grunt, as if it would give him more strength. His left arm wasn’t cooperating. The strain it underwent, holding the chains tight, and the energy used up in his shadow bolts made it useless.

Kieran gathered the strength for another inch. A sudden coughing fit ruined it. The wolf seized the opportunity and gnawed on his leg. He thrashed about in an effort to fend it off. It pulled off his shoe and was partially distracted by the blood inside.

“Uuggggghh…!”

Blood, saliva, tears, snot. He inched forward. It ran down his face and he felt the rawness of his skin as wind brushed past. Another inch. The wolf finished with his shoe and tore off the other one. Again, he drew on all his strength to go one more inch. It seemed to enjoy this sadistic game. Kieran could no longer drag himself further. He grabbed the pendant, opening it with the last of his energy.

It read ‘0’.

He had reached the end of the line.

Not wanting to have his bones picked clean in the middle of nowhere, he let his head hit the ground. The wolf’s long tongue, colored red, hung out. It leisurely strode up to him to claim its meal. Once it was less than a foot away, he muttered the words, “Jarl… und… vass…”

He felt his Essence surge for a moment, and then nothing. He was out.

The wolf bit into his arm, but he had no strength to scream. He didn’t even feel it. His body, tired, exhausted from days without proper rest or food, had given up at the last, pivotal moment. As his thoughts faded, he imagined two beautiful colors. One was a bright, vivid red, while the other was a light and calming blue.

The red aura seemed far away, but the blue aura was right there. It was like Essence. His Flow seemed to tug his consciousness away from his body, and even the sounds around him distorted.

If he was going to die anyway, it would have been better to die with Belezan.

A high pitched yelp broke through his haze for just a moment. He heard other voices, but they came through as mumbles and buzzes. In his blurred vision, he no longer longer saw paws and a hungry beast, but boots, and a person in a smiling mask.

Everything faded to black.