A love forged in exile

Chapter 1: On the Run

The bitter wind tore across the barren landscape, howling like a dying creature. The once-proud forests were reduced to charred stumps, the aftermath of a great battle that left nothing but ashes in its wake. The ground beneath their feet was still blackened from magic, a grim reminder of the massacre they had barely survived.

Tarin moved swiftly beside him, her cloak flapping in the wind like the wings of some hunted animal. Her face, set in a hard line, betrayed little of the exhaustion gnawing at her. Kaelin, just a step behind, could feel the weight of his own fatigue in his bones, but he said nothing. They had been running for days, maybe even weeks-he'd lost count.

The Forsaken had all but wiped out their order, the Mage-Knights, in one brutal stroke. Now there were no more battles to fight, no more banners to fly, no more kings to serve. It was just the two of them, running from the enemy, running from the past. The magic in their blood made them valuable targets, and the Forsaken's hunters wouldn't rest until every last Mage-Knight was dead.

Kaelin's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. The blade was a reminder of his former life, of what he used to be-a protector of the realm, a knight who wielded magic and steel in equal measure. But now, it felt like a relic from a world that no longer existed.

He glanced over at Tarin. Her long red hair was pulled back, and her eyes-usually so full of fire-were distant. She hadn't spoken much since they'd fled. Neither of them had. There was nothing to say.

"How much farther?" she asked suddenly, her voice hoarse from the cold.

Kaelin shrugged, scanning the horizon. "Far enough," he muttered. "We just need to get over that ridge. There's a cave beyond it. We'll rest there."

Tarin nodded but didn't slow her pace. They both knew there was no real safety anymore. Not from the Forsaken. Not from the nightmares they'd escaped.

As they crested the ridge, the sight of the cave offered a brief sense of relief. It wasn't much, just a dark hole in the mountainside, but it would hide them from the wind-and from any prying eyes. They slipped inside, the air immediately cooler and damp.

Kaelin dropped his pack to the ground with a grunt, rubbing his stiff shoulders. Tarin moved to the far side of the cave, leaning against the cold stone wall, her arms folded tight across her chest. She didn't sit. She never did.

"They'll be coming for us," she said after a long silence, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"They've been coming for us," Kaelin replied, his tone harsher than he intended. "But we're still here."

"Not for long," she shot back, her eyes narrowing. "You saw what happened at Ironclaw Keep. They didn't just defeat us-they slaughtered us. They're hunting us like animals."

Kaelin clenched his jaw, the memory of the massacre flashing in his mind. He had watched comrades, friends, and mentors fall one by one, their magic snuffed out as if it were nothing. The Forsaken had come with fire and shadows, with weapons designed to counter their magic-Autherium blades, forged in the dark realms. He had barely escaped with his life. But Tarin... she had fought until the very end, until there was nothing left but flames and death.

"And we'll die like animals if we don't keep moving," Kaelin said, his voice grim.

Tarin's eyes flicked toward him, her expression unreadable. She seemed to consider his words for a moment, then slowly nodded.

They both knew the truth, even if they didn't want to admit it. They were running out of time. Out of places to hide. Out of options.

Kaelin sat down, pulling his cloak tighter around him. "You should get some rest," he said quietly.

Tarin didn't move. "And you?"

"I'll keep watch," Kaelin said, though he didn't feel confident in the lie. His eyelids were already heavy, and the weight of the past days dragged at him.

But Tarin's pride wouldn't let her accept his offer. "I'll keep watch," she said instead, her voice firm. "You've been pushing yourself too hard."

Kaelin wanted to argue, but she was right. He was worn down, exhausted, and the magic in his veins felt thin, like it was slipping away from him. His strength wasn't what it used to be, not since the massacre. And as much as he hated to admit it, he trusted Tarin to keep watch more than himself.

With a weary nod, Kaelin moved to the back of the cave, using his cloak as a makeshift blanket. He lay down, closing his eyes, but his mind wouldn't let him rest. Images of the Forsaken, of his fallen comrades, played behind his eyelids. The screams. The fire. The way the Autherium blades had cut through magic like it was nothing.

He could still hear the sounds of the battle, feel the heat of it, and the weight of failure on his shoulders. They had been the last line of defense, the Mage-Knights. Protectors of the realm, sworn to defend it with both magic and steel. But now, they were nothing. Only memories.

Kaelin opened his eyes and glanced toward Tarin. She stood at the entrance to the cave, her hand on the hilt of her sword, her silhouette framed against the dim light outside. There was something reassuring about her presence-strong, unyielding. They had fought side by side for years, through countless battles. He had always admired her strength and her fierce loyalty. But now, as they ran for their lives, there was something else there. A connection that went beyond camaraderie, beyond the bond of fellow warriors.

But that was something he couldn't allow himself to think about. Not now. Not when they were so close to death.

"Kaelin," Tarin's voice broke through his thoughts.

He sat up, blinking the exhaustion from his eyes. "What is it?"

She didn't turn around, but he could hear the tension in her voice. "We're not alone."

Kaelin's hand went to his sword instantly, his heart pounding in his chest. He rose to his feet, moving to her side. Outside, in the fading light, he saw the shapes moving toward them-shadows, barely visible in the growing darkness.

Forsaken scouts.

His blood ran cold. They had found them.