Rage had guided Cassius ever since his mother had abandoned him. It had served him well, sharpening his instincts and teaching him to distrust the double-faced and those eager to take advantage of a young boy ignorant of life’s cruelties. But as he stepped out of the barn, Monk Dreu trailing behind him, a heavy realization settled over him: for the first time in years, his rage wasn’t going to be enough. Could he truly dare to believe he was a spellblade? And what might change if he did acknowledge it?

No, it was too soon to place his trust in Dreu. For now, his focus had to remain on the mission. Only when he’d completed his task would he allow himself to question everything he thought he knew.

“I’ll take you up on your offer,” Cassius said, turning to face Dreu. The monk smiled, and at a glance, it seemed genuine.

“I thought you might,” Dreu replied.

Cassius snorted but chose not to respond.

After a pause, he pointed to their right. “I can see Aliss’ trail. She’s clever enough to have figured out my uncanny skill for tracking, so she’s tried to throw me off.”

Dreu squinted into the dim light but saw no discernible path. The sky had grown dark, with only the stars offering a faint glow to their world.

Cassius, however, could see the faint shimmer of Aliss’ scent in the air. It puzzled him. He’d never been able to perceive trails like this before, not even when he had relied on his sense of smell while tracking Zenior and Lard.

The ability felt unnatural, yet instinctual. As if it had been dormant, waiting for the right moment to awaken. Was this part of being a spellblade? Or was something else at work?

Cassius kept it to himself, unwilling to share what he could see with Dreu. Without a word or a glance back, he began following Aliss’ trail. He moved like a shadow, silent and purposeful as if hypnotized by the shimmering dust of violet and orange that beckoned him forward. He remembered recognizing and subconsciously cataloging Aliss’ scent when they first met; a sharp citrus note with an undertone of earthy moss. Now, before him, was the physical manifestation of that very scent.

When Cassius reached it, he stopped and stretched out a hand, unable to suppress his awe. The trail shifted, pulling away from his touch like shifting cloud dust. 

Dreu caught up to him and stopped beside him. The monk said nothing at first, but the sharp intake of his breath betrayed the question forming on his lips.

“What is it?”

“Do scents… look like this?” Cassius asked before he could stop himself.

“Like what?” Dreu’s voice carried a mix of awe and curiosity, though his expression remained carefully neutral as if guarding his thoughts.

“Never mind,” Cassius muttered, shaking his head. He suspected that the monk would only try to convince him further that he was indeed a spellblade and that his ability to see scents was somehow tied to it. But Cassius couldn't shake the question: Why, of all times, was this happening now? He doubted Dreu would have an answer.

Cassius pushed forward, weaving through the overgrown bushes. The sharp thorns snagged at his clothes, but he didn’t slow down. His focus remained fixed on the shimmering trail, leading him like a hound chasing its prey.

They crossed through the overgrown bushes and entered the dense forest. With no moonlight to guide them, only pitch-black darkness surrounded them, save for the shimmering scent that led the way.

“Let me,” Dreu said, as if reading Cassius’ thoughts. Stepping forward, the monk made a few gestures with his hands before raising his staff. A soft, blue light began to gather at its tip, growing brighter until it became a globe of intense light, so bright that staring at it was almost painful for Cassius. He said nothing, though, and continued following the trail. Each passing second pulled Aliss further away.

Art above by Sakhatokan

The two fell into step with one another, moving in sync. No matter how fast Cassius pushed forward, Dreu was right behind him. The monk moved with such silence that, if not for Cassius' keen sense of hearing, he might have forgotten he was there. Neither of them spoke; they focused on the path ahead.

Cassius tried to make sense of their surroundings. He could clearly see Aliss’ trail, but there was nothing to indicate Adelard's presence. It struck him as odd having made a deal with Lard; it seemed strange that the man had left no trace. He suspected Aliss wasn't with Adelard; if she were, there would have been some sign, no matter how faint.

Had she abandoned the deal? Or had something else forced her off course? The thought unsettled him.

After what felt like hours of silent movement through the unchanging forest, they decided to stop. They didn’t build a fire, nor did they search for food. Dreu sat on the ground, crossed his legs, and rested his palms on his knees, closing his eyes.

“I’m going to peer into the Otherside,” he said as if sensing the unasked questions rising in Cassius’ mind. It unnerved Cassius, but he refused to give Dreu the satisfaction of asking. “I’m sure we’ll get a hint or something.”

Leaving Dreu to focus on his work, Cassius moved around the area where they had stopped. He glanced back at the path they had traveled and suddenly came to a halt. Aliss' scent was barely there, so faint it seemed to be fading. He frowned and couldn't resist following the trail back. The farther he moved, the more the scent diminished until it vanished completely.

Cassius returned to where the monk was, and to his surprise, the scent was strong again; solid, as if it had been carefully laid out for him to follow.

Cassius narrowed his eyes, fixating on Dreu. Clenching his jaw, he remained still, waiting for the monk to pull back from the Otherside before he could bombard him with questions.

“He’s not there,” Dreu blurted out, rising to his feet a moment later.

“Who’s not there?” Cassius demanded, unable to mask the accusation in his voice.

“Lard,” Dreu replied, gripping his staff so tightly his knuckles turned white. “The two of them used the Otherside to travel elsewhere in Adaria and continue their killings.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. You’re the one guiding me. That was the deal, remember?” Dreu said. There was something in his voice that suggested he meant business, and the blue of his eyes seemed to glow extra bright in the light of his magical orb.

“Yeah, but before that, you need to explain why you’re messing with my senses,” Cassius snapped, losing control. He clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself to stay calm before he could completely lose himself.

Dreu narrowed his eyes, saying nothing. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Cassius' keen ears caught a sound from the forest.

In an instant, Cassius moved, covering the ground in the blink of an eye. His daggers slipped into his hands, blades turned inward. He closed the distance to the intruder, spun on his heel, and appeared behind him before the person even registered his presence.

In the blink of an eye, the intruder was on his feet, a dagger pressed against his throat and another at his side. Cassius was little more than a silhouette behind him, half-hidden by the intruder's body and the shadows cast by the towering trees.

But then, with a sharp gasp, Cassius stepped back. His dagger slipped from his hand as if an invisible force had wrenched it away.

"Hello, Cassius Perote Sadon," the intruder said with a smile, his voice eerily familiar, even after all these years.

"Seraphis Thunderwrath," Cassius replied, stepping back further, his mind spinning. He struggled to comprehend who and what stood before him.

Seraphis turned, his cloud armor glimmering in the light of Dreu's orb. But Cassius’ gaze was fixed on his face, on the translucent skin that revealed nothing yet gave him a regal, almost ethereal beauty. His eyes, a sky-blue so deep, seemed all-encompassing, all-knowing.

A Thunderborne. That’s one of the rarest races in Adaria, so rare that they had vanished from the present and existed only in the forgotten pages of history. And yet, here, one stood, crossing Cassius' path once more.

"Impossible." Monk Dreu's voice was barely a whisper. Cassius couldn’t move, feeling as if he were rooted to the spot. He didn’t even reach down to retrieve the dagger he had dropped.

Seraphis turned toward Dreu, walking over to him with steps so light they barely touched the ground.

"Why, Dreu?" Seraphis asked. His voice calm but tinged with a hint of mockery. "Why are you surprised? Not after what you know."

"What does he know?" Cassius demanded, his jaw clenched tight. The weight of all the unanswered questions pressed on him, each one deepening his confusion.

When Dreu didn’t answer, simply watching Seraphis with unreadable eyes, Seraphis turned back to Cassius.

"Zenior has just erased an entire village in the North. Just like this." Seraphis said, snapping his fingers. The sound cracked through the air like a thunderclap. "And he’s become someone neither of you can handle on your own."

"What are you saying?" Cassius asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"He has transcended. And I’m joining the hunt."