The taller figure stepped into the sunlight, their mask dangling loosely from one hand.

Dark hair framed a face that wore a wolfish grin, sharp and unshaken by the skirmish.

“Ryker,” Alaric said, each syllable edged with venom.

“It’s good to know you still remember me,” Ryker replied, his tone mocking. “I wasn’t sure if you’d gone soft after your… fall from grace.”

Thomas glanced between them, sweat dripping down his temple. “Friend of yours?”

Alaric’s grip tightened on his sword. “The opposite.”

Ryker chuckled and twirled his blade with casual precision. “Oh, come now. Don’t make it sound so personal. We’re just here for what you’ve stolen.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the sword at Alaric’s hip.

Before Alaric could respond, Ryker lunged.

The two collided in a flurry of steel, Alaric blocking blow after blow. Ryker’s style was aggressive but deliberate—every strike designed to wear Alaric down. The clash rang in Morgan’s ears as she held off two attackers of her own, using quick bursts of fire to force them back.

Thomas, gritting his teeth, fought like a cornered wolf, but even he was being pushed into retreat.

Alaric’s breath came in ragged bursts. Ryker was driving him back step by step until his heel hit the dirt and he stumbled. The next swing from Ryker sent his sword flying from his hand, clattering across the ground.

Ryker leveled his blade at Alaric’s throat, smirking. “It’s over.”

“No!” Morgan’s voice cracked like a whip through the chaos.

Her hands flared with raw, blinding magic—power she’d never unleashed before. A sphere of pure force burst outward from her, the shockwave slamming into every masked assailant.

Ryker and his men were thrown several feet, hitting the ground hard. Leaves and dirt swirled violently through the air as Morgan staggered, her knees buckling from the effort.

“Move!” Thomas shouted, hauling Alaric to his feet.

The three bolted into the treeline, not daring to look back.

Behind them, Ryker pushed himself up slowly, brushing blood from the corner of his mouth. His grin had vanished, replaced by something far more dangerous.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered.

———

They didn’t stop running until the trees grew thick enough to swallow the road behind them. The forest around them was quiet now, the echoes of battle fading into the stillness. Alaric leaned against a sturdy oak, trying to steady his breathing. Morgan sat nearby, her hands still trembling from the energy she’d unleashed. Thomas was wiping dirt from his shirt, eyes wide but oddly amused.

“Well?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow. “Care to explain what the heck just happened back there? And who’s this Ryker guy—masked mystery man or just bad with a hat?”

Alaric exchanged a glance with Morgan, then spoke. “Ryker Dawnhide. He’s from a family that’s been competing against mine for years. We fought when we were young — it was a draw, but ever since, the rivalry hasn’t died down.”

Thomas chuckled. “Sounds like a family drama — like a dramatic play you’d see in a theater, but with swords and shadowy assassins.”

Morgan looked up at Alaric, eyes questioning. “So this is about family pride?”

“More than that,” Alaric said, his voice tightening. “Both our families have chased the legend of the lost sword for generations. It’s been lost to time, but it’s said to hold great power. Ryker thinks I’ve found a lead — that’s why he’s after me.”

Thomas whistled low. “Let me get this straight. You’re being chased by a gang of deadly sword-wielding rivals because of a mythic sword nobody’s found for centuries? And somehow, I’m involved now?”

Alaric nodded grimly.

Thomas smiled crookedly and said, “Well, you two are loads of fun to be around.”

Morgan finally found her voice. “Thomas… that blast — how did you even get caught up in this?”

Thomas shrugged, brushing dirt from his hands. “Like I said, I’m not exactly a hero type. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He smirked. “But if you’re going to need muscle and someone who knows how to survive a fight without magic, I’m your man.”

Alaric looked between them, then nodded slowly. “We could use the help.”

Morgan managed a tired smile. “Agreed. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

Thomas threw his pack over his shoulder with a dramatic flourish. “Looks like I’m officially part of this merry band of troublemakers.”

Alaric laughed for the first time that night. Morgan shook her head, but the tension had lifted just a little.

“Tomorrow,” Alaric said, “we keep moving. Ryker won’t stop until he’s found that sword. And neither will we.”

Morgan met his gaze, determination flickering back in her eyes. “Together.”

Thomas grinned. “Well, if it’s an adventure you want — I’m in. Just try not to get us all killed, yeah?”

They settled in under the canopy of trees, uneasy rest finally claiming them — but the weight of the hunt and the shadow of Ryker’s threat still hung heavy in the air.