Chapter 46 — Knives Between Words
Shadeblade POV
The forest no longer felt random.
That realization came to me while walking back to camp, sword still warm in my grip, blood drying where I hadn't bothered to wipe it off yet.
Random things didn't wait.
Random things didn't test reactions, retreat, then send something bigger once they understood how you moved.
Volrag's voice echoed in my head, uninvited.
If you survive the first strike, ask yourself why it didn't finish you.
I adjusted the bone-white mask, fingers brushing the cracked line running from left eye to cheek. The crack felt deeper today. Not physically—something else. Like the mask was starting to lag behind the person wearing it.
I hated that thought.
Behind me, Bran complained loudly about his bruises. Selia laughed at him. Aris walked quietly, staff tapping earth in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. Korran said nothing, but his silence felt… heavy.
Vaelric's absence sat between us like a missing limb.
We reached camp.
Everything looked normal.
That was worse.
No signs of forced entry. No scattered gear. No panic. Just one empty space by the fire where a man should have been.
"He planned this," I said.
Korran nodded. "Yes."
Selia leaned against a tree, arms crossed. "Question is—planned what?"
I didn't answer.
Because I was already replaying the fight in my head—not the monster, but myself.
I hadn't cast a spell.
I hadn't reached for mana.
But something had still… clicked.
My footwork had changed mid-fight. Less panic. More intent.
I was starting to build something.
And that scared me more than monsters ever could.
Selia POV
They didn't see it.
That's fine.
They weren't supposed to.
Shadeblade was too busy thinking. Korran was too busy calculating. Bran was busy being Bran. Aris was busy being unreadable.
So no one noticed when I drifted toward the edge of camp again.
No one stopped me.
Good.
The forest hadn't changed its mind overnight.
The birds were quieter. Wind shifted wrong. Even the bugs sounded hesitant.
Someone was still nearby.
I followed instinct, not tracks.
Found the ravine again.
Found something new.
A marker—small, subtle. Three shallow cuts in the bark of a low tree. Noble code.
Vaelric's people.
"Idiot," I muttered softly. "You left a signature."
I crouched, fingers brushing the marks. Fresh. Deliberate.
He wanted someone to see this.
Me?
Or Shadeblade?
That thought bothered me more than it should have.
I straightened—and froze.
"You're very good," a voice said calmly, from behind. "But you lean too much on habits."
I didn't turn.
Didn't reach for my blade.
Because the person speaking wasn't Vaelric.
And because if I'd been wrong?
I'd already be dead.
"You followed him," I said.
"Yes."
"You helped him."
"No."
A pause.
Then: "I offered him perspective."
I turned slowly.
The hooded man from the night before stood there, face still hidden, presence… anchored. Like the forest had agreed to let him exist.
"Perspective usually comes with a knife," I said lightly.
He chuckled. "Only when people resist it."
"What do you want?" I asked.
His gaze slid past me—toward camp.
"I want to know," he said, "how long your Skeleton can keep pretending he's ordinary."
My smile didn't reach my eyes. "Long enough to ruin your plans."
"We'll see."
And then he was gone.
Not vanished.
Gone.
I swallowed.
Yeah.
I was telling the others everything.
Vaelric POV
I hadn't planned to hesitate.
That was the first failure.
The second was that I kept thinking about the way Shadeblade moved.
Not flashy. Not elegant. But… adaptive. Like someone learning faster than they should.
Like someone dangerous.
The hooded man stood beside me at the overlook, hands folded calmly, as if discussing trade routes instead of people.
"You could walk away," he said. "No one would blame you."
"I know," I replied.
"And yet?"
I exhaled. "They aren't weak."
"No," he agreed. "They're inconvenient."
That stung.
"Especially him," the man continued. "Tier-2, pretending to be less. Pretending not to know what he's building."
"You want him," I said.
"I want to know if he breaks."
Silence.
"Why tell me this?" I asked.
"Because," he said mildly, "you're standing at a crossroads."
I clenched my fists. "You think this is about ambition."
"No," he replied. "I think this is about fear."
That hit closer than I liked.
"If I help you," I said slowly, "they'll die."
"Not all," he corrected. "And not immediately."
I turned away.
That was the third failure.
Because I didn't say no.
Shadeblade POV
They came back together.
Selia. Korran. Aris.
Their expressions told me everything before a word was spoken.
"We're compromised," Selia said.
Korran nodded. "Yes."
Aris added quietly, "And watched."
Bran blinked. "Is it bad that I'm hungry?"
No one laughed.
I stood, sword resting against my shoulder. "We don't panic," I said. "We don't split. And we don't assume Vaelric's our enemy."
Selia studied me. "You trust him?"
"No," I replied. "But I understand him."
That surprised her.
It surprised me too.
Something was forming in my chest—not power, not mana.
Resolve.
Volrag had never taught me a style.
Just survival.
But survival wasn't enough anymore.
"We move at first light," I continued. "Whatever's coming… we meet it on our terms."
The forest creaked softly.
As if amused.
And deep down, I knew—
This was the last quiet night we'd get as mercenaries.
After this?
Everything changes.