Arin's lungs burned as he and Leira tore through the forest. The night pressed around them, thick with smoke and the glow of burning rooftops behind. Every step sent a jolt through his body, but what unnerved him most wasn't the pain or the fire—it was the vision that still lingered in his eyes. He could see the forest alive in threads of pale light: the heartbeat of a bird trembling in its nest, the shimmer of roots pulling water from soil, even the faint silver strands that clung to his sister's arm as she dragged him onward.
"Faster!" Leira urged, her voice ragged. She pulled him over roots and uneven earth with a strength born of fear. Arin stumbled, half-blind in this new, glowing world that felt sharper and more confusing than the darkness he'd known all his life.
Behind them, the sound of raiders grew louder. Boots pounded against the forest floor, men cursed and shouted, and the metallic clink of blades rang through the night. Arin risked a glance backward with his strange sight and saw their pursuers as fiery silhouettes against the trees, threads of violence blazing from their bodies.
"Leira, they're close," he whispered, his chest heaving.
She gritted her teeth. "Don't stop. Not yet."
But Arin could feel the strain in her grip, the exhaustion in her body. They couldn't outrun the raiders forever. And then—without warning—something shifted in him again. His strange sight focused, pulling the threads of the forest into clarity. The roots beneath the raiders seemed to glow brighter, as though inviting him to tug at them. Instinctively, he reached with his mind.
The roots snapped upward from the soil, tangling around two of the raiders' legs. They fell hard, weapons clattering. Others stumbled to avoid them. Arin gasped as if scalded. The effort drained him, but it bought them a moment.
"Arin… what did you just do?" Leira hissed.
"I don't know," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I just… pulled, and the forest listened."
Leira's face was pale in the moonlight filtering through smoke. She wanted to ask more, but there wasn't time. The raiders shouted, cutting themselves free from the roots. The chase continued.
They ran until their bodies screamed for rest, finally breaking into a clearing where the smoke thinned. The forest here was quiet, the air cooler. Leira pulled Arin into the hollow of an old tree, crouching low. They both pressed close, catching their breath.
For the first time since the raid began, silence wrapped around them. Arin's new sight still glimmered faintly—Leira's pulse racing, the sweat cooling on her skin, the fear in her chest flickering like pale light. He closed his eyes, hoping the vision would fade, but it didn't. The world refused to return to darkness.
Leira's hand squeezed his. "Are you all right?"
He shook his head. "Everything's… too much. I can see things no one should. The raiders, the forest, even you. It feels like the world is shouting at me, and I don't know how to silence it."
Her voice softened. "You were born blind, Arin. You've spent your whole life in shadow. Maybe now the world is finally opening to you."
"Or maybe it's a curse," he muttered. He thought of the raider collapsing as if puppeted by unseen strings. That hadn't been normal sight. That had been something dangerous. Something hungry.
Before she could answer, a twig snapped nearby. Both froze. Leira tensed, ready to run again—but a voice whispered urgently: "Stay down. Don't move."
From the darkness, a man appeared. He was tall, lean, with hair tied back in a rough knot and a bow slung over his shoulder. His clothes were dirt-stained, but his eyes—Arin saw them glowing faintly green in his strange vision—were sharp and steady. A survivor, not a raider.
"I saw you running," the man said quietly. "You'll die if you keep stumbling around like this. Follow me if you want to live."
Leira hesitated, pulling Arin closer. "Why should we trust you?"
"Because," the man said, glancing toward the sounds of raiders still searching the woods, "I don't have time to explain, and neither do you."
Arin, though exhausted, felt something different about this man. His threads glowed not with violence but with resolve. Without thinking, he whispered, "He's telling the truth."
Leira looked at him, startled. But Arin's strange sight seemed certain. Reluctantly, she nodded. "Fine. Lead the way."
The stranger guided them through hidden paths, moving like a shadow between trees. They followed until the forest thickened and the sound of raiders faded. Eventually, he brought them to a hidden cave tucked behind a curtain of vines. Inside, the air was cool and damp. A small fire flickered, surrounded by a few other villagers who had escaped. Their faces lit with both relief and fear as Leira and Arin entered.
Among them was an old woman with sharp eyes, a boy no older than ten clutching a broken spear, and two men nursing wounds. The sight of them—all glowing faintly in Arin's vision—made his chest ache. These were the remnants of their home, scattered and broken.
Leira's shoulders slumped as she sank by the fire. "At least we're safe for now."
The stranger nodded. "Safe, yes. But only for tonight. The raiders won't stop."
Arin sat quietly, overwhelmed by the glow of so many lives around him. The old woman's thread shimmered like a fragile flame, fragile but steady. The boy's spark flickered erratically, raw with fear. Every heartbeat, every breath, was visible to him. It was beautiful—and terrifying.
Leira noticed his distant stare. "Arin? What is it?"
He swallowed. "I can see all of them. Not like you do… not with faces. I see what they are. Their lives, their fear, their pain. It's everywhere."
The old woman tilted her head, studying him. "Eyes awakened," she murmured. "The stories spoke of such things, though none believed them. A child born blind, who sees when the world is torn apart." Her voice dropped. "Cursed or chosen. Which are you, boy?"
Arin flinched. "I don't know."
The stranger leaned against the cave wall, watching him. "Doesn't matter what you call it. What matters is whether you can control it. If you can't, it'll kill you—or worse."
Arin's hands trembled. He remembered the raider collapsing, the roots rising at his command. He hadn't controlled anything. It had just happened.
Leira touched his shoulder. "He'll learn. He has to."
The night passed slowly. The villagers whispered their griefs, the boy cried himself to sleep, and the fire burned low. Arin lay awake, sight still shimmering behind his closed eyes. Every sound, every presence, tugged at him through the invisible web. He tried to block it out, but it was like trying not to hear the roar of a river when standing on its banks.
At dawn, the stranger roused them. "We move east. The raiders will come again."
As they prepared, Arin stepped outside the cave. The forest glowed with morning light, golden threads mingling with silver. For the first time, he saw the sun cresting the horizon—not as others saw it, but as a vast radiant blaze that touched every thread of life. It stole his breath. He had never known beauty like this.
But with it came a shiver. Because beyond the horizon, past even the glow of life, he felt something darker. A shadow vast and patient, watching him through the threads. He knew then that the raiders were only the beginning. Something greater had stirred with his awakening.
And it would not let him go.