That, and I was baffled.
"I don't know what to say to that."
He chuckled, and it was a beautiful sound. And rare.
"Don't say anything. I'm simply making an observation—that your methods are unusual but effective. You've proven yourself a valuable hunting partner.” A ghost of a smile played on his lips.
We sat in silence for a while longer, the cave quiet save for the rhythmic drumming of the rain. Oddly, the tension between us didn’t press—it settled instead into something strange butcompanionable. I watched as droplets fell from the cave’s mouth, carving tiny rivers through the soil, tracing paths.
Lance stole glances at me now and then, his expression unreadable in the dimness. Was he truly beginning to trust me—or simply gathering more to report back to Arthur? Of course, I knew this pairing of the two of us wasn't by coincidence. Arthur didn't trust me, and nor should he have. Coming from the North, he would naturally be suspicious. And he'd watched me like a hawk when Carlisle had invited me to his table after the Duel trial. Arthur was suspicious about Lioran's motives—that was clear as day. So, if Lance had been tasked with deciphering whether I was trustworthy, it was rather interesting that he hadn't asked me much about myself. Instead, he'd opened up about himself.
Not that I minded. In truth, I found his stories about his childhood fascinating—almost as fascinating as the man himself. And that was a point that didn't sit well with me. Because it was dangerous to find Lancelot fascinating.
Regardless, I tried to focus on the task ahead—locating the third creature. Not the warmth of his presence. Not the quiet gravity of his voice when he said my name. Not the way he made the cave feel too small, too close.
Finally, the storm began to break. The hard downpour softened into a gentle patter, then to scattered drips from the canopy above.
“Looks like the weather’s decided to cooperate,” I murmured, stretching my sore limbs.
When the rain let up completely, we emerged from the cave. The petrichor rose around us, earthy and clean. The forest had transformed—every leaf jeweled with droplets. For a moment, it felt like magic was everywhere—not conjured, not commanded, but woven into the world itself. And for that breath of time, I forgot to be afraid.
A half second later, something moved past me.
I spun around, hand flying to my sword.
“Something is here,” Lance said grimly, shifting into a defensive stance. His voice was low, focused.
We circled back to back, stepping carefully through the slick underbrush. The forest had gone unnaturally still—the only sound the steady drip of rainwater from high branches, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.
“There,” Lance said, pointing toward a ripple of shadow gliding between two oaks.
I caught it—a flicker of absence more than form, like a piece of the world where light refused to land. It slipped away the moment I fixed my eyes on it, a smear of liquid night streaking across the forest floor.
"Agravaine's Invisible Stalker," Lance said, his tone one of concern. "I had hoped we wouldn't find ourselves up against it."
"Why?"
The name alone lent it both fear and mystery. For a moment, all I sensed was absence—a void in the natural tapestry of the forest, as though sound and light sidestepped its presence. But as my eyes adjusted, I caught fragments, like the tail end of a memory slipping away before I could grasp it—images that lingered for a heartbeat, then dissolved.
"Because it's invisible, thus nearly impossible to catch, and it's dangerous because it acts as a type of doppelganger."
He started forward, and I followed. Another flicker dashed past, a shimmer where rain didn't fall or breeze didn't touch.
"If you pay attention, you'll notice subtle shifts in the surroundings, but they only appear once it has already moved. We need to trap it and secure it within the glass orb swiftly. The last thing we want is for it to charge at one of us because it will sink into your being and clone itself, only in your image."
The forest became a blur of motion as Lance sprinted ahead, chasing after the elusive shadow that was already weaving through mist and rain.
"Lioran!" I heard him call, urgency threading his voice as the stalker darted to his right. However, I couldn't follow because I was already moving in the opposite direction toward a second ripple cresting along the ground.
Skirting trees, I kept my senses focused on the shifts in the forest around me—rain briefly stilled, leaves disturbed. I felt something lunge forward with speed, a rushing tide of darkness. I barely had time to raise my hands before it struck me. And once it did, it swallowed me whole.
Cold crashed over me—not the chill of weather or magic, but something deeper. It was the aching cold of burial snow, of frozen breath caught in lungs that wouldn’t expand. The shadow wrapped around me, pressing inward. It slid beneath my armor, into seams and joints, exploring,reading.
I could feel it.
Not just on my skin, but inside me—unraveling illusions, brushing against the truth like fingers along the edge of a veil. My breath faltered as the shadow found what it wanted.Me.
Lance’s voice became distant, muted by the dark cocoon I was currently stuck within. I tried to move—scream—dosomething. But my body resisted, as though I were watching it drown from far above.
