Fate of the Marked

Greed

Kael stood in the stillness that followed, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his fists still faintly crackling with remnants of the power he'd unleashed. I watched him closely, noting the way his body trembled—not from weakness, but from something deeper. Something new.

Kael turned to me, his eyes wide, not with triumph but with confusion. "What... what just happened?"

I approached cautiously, gripping my staff as if I needed its grounding. "That's what I'd like to know," I said, scanning him with both my gaze and my magical senses. The air around him still felt charged, buzzing with energy that seemed to come not from magic but from within him.

Kael looked down at his hands, flexing them like they didn't quite belong to him. "It's like... I could feel something," he said slowly, his voice almost hushed. "Flowing through me. Like a river or a current. I didn't think—I just knew what to do."

I tilted my head, studying him. "Chi flow," I said, the words deliberate. "I've read about it. Rare, almost unheard of in someone your age... but clearly, it's real."

He blinked at me, clearly still processing, then gave a shaky laugh. "So I'm... what? Special?"

"Special's one way to put it," I replied dryly, though a part of me couldn't help but feel impressed. Whatever had awakened in Kael, it was powerful. And useful.

But my attention shifted quickly as my gaze fell on the battlefield around us.

The dragon lay dead, its massive body sprawled lifeless across the cracked earth. The village in the distance was eerily silent, its people either too frightened or too far to witness what had just transpired.

And then, my eyes landed on Lyara and Bram.

Lyara's charred, lifeless form was crumpled in the dirt, her once-bright aura extinguished. Bram, bloodied and broken, lay motionless a few feet away, his hammer still clutched in his hands as though he'd been trying to rise even in his final moments.

I should've felt something.

Sorrow. Loss. Guilt, maybe.

But instead, there was a strange hollowness, a void where grief should've been.

I stood there, silent, letting my eyes linger on their bodies. Lyara, whose magic had shielded us. Bram, whose strength had carved our path here. They were gone.

And yet...

A cold, calculating thought crept into my mind, unbidden but impossible to ignore. Five thousand gold.

With Bram and Lyara gone, the share of the reward would be split between Kael and me. Five thousand gold each—a sum large enough to set me up comfortably for years. It was an ugly thought, but it came easily, almost naturally, as if it were the logical conclusion.

Kael's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "Thalia?" he asked, his tone uncertain. "What... what do we do now?"

I glanced at him, noting the worry in his eyes. He was young, inexperienced, still reeling from what he'd just discovered about himself. He needed guidance.

"We move forward," I said simply, turning away from the bodies.

Kael's voice cracked slightly as he gestured toward the still forms of Bram and Lyara. "Shouldn't we... do something? For them?"

Before I could answer, one of the villagers hurried toward us, their expression a mix of exhaustion and gratitude. They stumbled to a stop in front of me, bowing slightly as they struggled to catch their breath.

"Thank you," the villager said, their voice trembling with emotion. "You've saved us. The dragon... it's finally dead."

I nodded, gripping my staff tightly. "The job's done," I said simply, gesturing toward the massive corpse of the dragon. "It's yours now. Do whatever you see fit with it. But..." I hesitated for a moment before pointing toward Bram and Lyara. "Give those two a proper burial. It's the least they deserve."