Blood and Sorcery: forbidden lineage

Chapter Three – After the Fury

The night had been merciless. Flames had devoured the old cabin as the storm raged on, turning their fragile shelter into smoldering ruins. In the chaos that followed, Elyreina had dragged an unconscious Lyrien through the torrential rain, their only hope of survival being to find shelter before exhaustion or the elements claimed them both.

Her boots sank into the mud with every step, her body numb from the cold, but she refused to stop. The downpour was relentless, beating down like a war drum against the earth. Lightning slashed across the sky, illuminating the charred trees and the ruined remnants of what had once been their safe haven. The air reeked of damp ash, smoke, and burnt wood, mixing with the petrichor of rain-soaked earth.

Elyreina tightened her grip around Lyrien's waist, his unconscious form a dead weight against her side. Every few steps, she nearly lost her balance, slipping on the rain-slicked ground. Her arms trembled from both exertion and the fading rush of adrenaline. The storm had wiped away their footprints, making it impossible to tell where they had come from—or if something was still following them.

She cast a wary glance behind her. The Vorethin. Had it truly been slain by Lyrien's flames? Or had it simply retreated, waiting for the right moment to strike again? The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

A distant rumble of thunder masked the eerie silence of the forest. For a moment, she could swear she saw movement—shadowy figures lurking between the skeletal remains of trees. Her breathing hitched, but she forced herself to keep moving. Panic wouldn't save them. They needed shelter. Now.

After what felt like an eternity of stumbling through the storm, her gaze finally locked onto a dark opening nestled between jagged rock formations. A cave. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

With the last of her strength, she hauled Lyrien inside, setting him down against the cold stone wall. Her knees nearly buckled as she let out a ragged breath, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. But her relief was short-lived—she still had to make sure they were alone.

Torchlight was out of the question—she had neither the tools nor the energy to create one, and any sign of fire could attract unwanted attention. Instead, she moved cautiously, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness as she traced her fingers along the damp walls. The cave smelled of old earth and something faintly metallic, a scent that put her on edge.

Stepping carefully, she moved deeper, her fingers brushing against strange carvings on the rock. They were old, etched by hands long gone, depicting symbols she didn't recognize. Some looked like warning signs, others like… claw marks.

Her stomach twisted. Someone—or something—had been here before them.

Further in, the cave widened slightly, revealing scattered debris—old bones, remnants of cloth, a rusted blade lying abandoned in the dirt. Elyreina crouched, picking up the dagger. The metal was cold and brittle, but the craftsmanship suggested it had once belonged to a seasoned fighter.

"Someone fought here," she murmured to herself, the weight of the realization settling in. If they weren't careful, they might meet the same fate.

She backed away, keeping her senses sharp, listening for anything beyond the howling wind outside. No growls. No shifting shadows. Just the steady drip of water echoing through the cavern. For now, they were safe.

Satisfied, she returned to Lyrien's side, her heartbeat still unsteady. They couldn't stay long, but at least for tonight, they had shelter.

Elyreina knelt beside him, brushing wet strands of hair from his face. His skin was warm—too warm. Even in the freezing cold of the cave, heat radiated from his body as if embers still burned beneath his skin. His breathing was shallow, and every so often, his fingers twitched, tiny sparks flickering at his fingertips.

The fire within him had not faded completely.

"Lyrien," she whispered, gripping his wrist. He didn't stir. His face was pale, yet his body was burning up, as though his own magic was consuming him from within.

Their father had always warned that power left unchecked could become a curse. And Lyrien… He was already treading a dangerous path.

A faint murmur escaped his lips, too soft to make out. Was he dreaming? Or was it something more? Elyreina felt the weight of uncertainty settle over her like a heavy cloak. They needed answers.

She exhaled slowly, pulling his tattered cloak over him to keep him from the cold. For now, she would watch over him. Tomorrow, they would decide what to do next.

As the storm finally began to wane outside, the siblings remained in the cave—one unconscious, the other standing guard, both unaware that this night was only the beginning of something far greater than they had ever imagined.

Their real battle had yet to begin.

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