Alistair offered a hand.

  Kaelren looked at it like it might bite him. Then, with a sigh loud enough to imply moral suffering, he took it.

  His grip was strong. Practical. The kind of hand that didn’t belong to a prince or priest, it belonged to someone who’d learned to skin a rabbit before learning to write.

  Alistair hauled him up with a grunt.

  “You good?” he asked.

  Kaelren blinked. “Define good.”

  “Not dead. Not bleeding. Mostly upright.”

  “Then yeah. I’m peachy.”

  Now that the elf was standing, and not mid-fall or half-buried in leaves, Alistair finally got a good look at him.

  He was lean, but not delicate. More rope than silk. Long, light braids hung down his back, threaded with odd little charms, bits of bone, slivers of bark, a rusted iron ring, and what looked suspiciously like a bird skull.

  His clothes were stitched leather and barkcloth, patchy but tight-fitting. Not decorative. Functional. Earth-toned, flexible, and worn with the kind of quiet confidence only feral wilderness types seemed to pull off.

  “Yep,” Alistair thought. “Definitely fell out of a tree-worshipping cult.”

  Kaelren shaded his eyes and scanned the canopy. “My quiver’s up there.”

  Without waiting, he jogged toward the tree and scaled it like a spider. Branch to branch, he moved fast, like he’d done this since birth. Maybe he had.

  Alistair leaned on his sword and watched him go.

  “Show-off,” he muttered.

  Kaelren dropped down a moment later, landing in a low crouch with a casual thud. He straightened and slung his quiver over one shoulder.

  The quiver looked like it had been woven from bone and roots, laced with sinew and overgrown with tiny moss patches. Wooden pegs jutted out the sides to hold spare strings or potion vials, and the arrows inside weren’t fletched with feathers, they were tipped with dark thorns and bound in wrapped leaves.

  The whole thing looked like it had been carved from the corpse of a forest that knew how to fight back.

  Kaelren adjusted the strap and grunted. “Well. That was a stupid morning.”

  Alistair opened his mouth.

  Then the system hit.

  [Soulbond Update – Resonance Established]

  You have gained access to a shared attribute channel.

  [New Skill Acquired: Archery – Level 1]

  You have inherited this skill through your bond with [Kaelren].

  Passive Link Established: +8% to [Dexterity] (highest attribute match)

  Additional perks and deeper connections can be unlocked by:

  ? Increasing your Soulbond level

  ? Strengthening mutual trust

  Alistair blinked. “Huh.”

  Kaelren staggered slightly and grabbed the side of his head. “Ow! okay, what the hell was that?”

  “System notification,” Alistair said.

  Kaelren squinted. “That’s what that is? It felt like a squirrel crawled into my brain and kicked over a bucket.”

  Alistair smirked. “Get used to it. That’s how the system says hello.”

  “I don’t get those,” Kaelren muttered. “I’ve never gotten system notifications like that.”

  Alistair raised a brow. “You seriously don’t have a spirit guide?”

  “Nope.” Kaelren rubbed his temples. “Just raw instinct, gut feelings, and deep-seated cultural trauma and maybe a notification or two when I level up.”

  “Well that explains the tree decor.”

  Kaelren glared. “What do you get, then? Pop-ups every time you breathe?”

  “Not every time. Just when I level up, loot something, soulbind someone, nearly die... you know. Milestones.”

  Kaelren looked at him. Then down at his chest. Then back up.

  “Great. Now I’ve got you in my head.”

  “Be honest,” Alistair said, grinning. “You’ve had worse.”

  Kaelren groaned. “I can’t believe I got bonded to a snarky vampire.”

  They walked in silence for a few seconds. Not the brooding kind, just the awkward kind. The kind that hangs over two people who didn’t plan to become magically tethered strangers.

  Alistair broke it first.

  “So... do we start calling each other ‘partner’ now, or is there a cooldown on bad relationship jokes?”

  Kaelren gave him a look. “If you say soulmate, I’m putting an arrow in your thigh.”

  “Fair. Though I am technically part of your skill tree now.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Kaelren made a choking noise. “Gods, don’t say it like that.”

  They passed through a thick patch of underbrush, the forest still dripping with dew and post-combat silence. Sunlight filtered between the leaves. It should have felt peaceful.

  It didn’t.

  They were being watched.

  Everyone was.

  And they both knew it.

  “So what now?” Kaelren asked finally. “You lead, or do I pretend to care what you think?”

  Alistair shrugged. “We need a medallion. Mine broke. Yours?”

  “Gone. Vaporized during the Cleansing.”

  “Right. So we’re both technically unclaimed. Meaning we’re one divine beam away from being vaporized next time.”

  Kaelren muttered a curse under his breath.

  “We find loot,” Alistair continued. “We stay low. We avoid groups unless we’re sure we can wipe them. And if one of us dies, the other doesn’t do anything stupid like revenge.”

  Kaelren raised a brow. “You rehearsed that?”

  “No. That’s just how I stay alive.”

  Kaelren looked at him for a long second. Then nodded once.

  “Fine. I’ll follow you.”

  Alistair blinked. “You will?”

  “Until you prove incompetent.”

  “That... is weirdly flattering.”

  Kaelren slung his bow over his shoulder. “Try not to ruin it.”

  [Soulbond Trust: +1%]

  Alistair didn’t smile.

  But he didn’t not smile, either.

  They hadn’t been walking long when Alistair’s eyes drifted down to Kaelren’s belt.

  Five arrows. Black shafted. Thorny. Wrapped in faded leather bindings and slotted horizontally against his hip, completely separate from the ones in his quiver.

  Speaking of which…

  “You know your quiver’s almost empty, right?” Alistair asked. “I counted maybe seven arrows in there. You lose a few trying to look cool?”

  Kaelren didn’t answer.

  His gaze followed Alistair’s eyes to the five arrows.

  His entire body tensed.

  Like a tripwire had been touched.

  “No one looks at my Gravebark Arrows,” he said, voice flat.

  Alistair raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “No one touches them. No one asks about them. No one even thinks too hard about them.”

  “…they’re just arrows.”

  “They are not just arrows!” Kaelren hissed. “They’re ancestral weapons, okay? Each one is carved from the last living root of a Gravewood tree fed by the bones of our dead. I brought five. That’s it. That’s the entire arsenal. They’re for serious problems.”

  Alistair blinked.

  “Right. Got it. Easy there, little dude.”

  Kaelren slowly exhaled through his nose like a man suppressing generations of cultural violence.

  Alistair muttered, “Great. I finally get a companion and he’s a bark-obsessed murder squirrel.”

  To change the subject before the elf had a full spiritual episode, he asked, “So what skill did you get from the bond?”

  Kaelren tilted his head, blinking.

  Then his eyes unfocused, like he was scanning an internal list.

  One second passed.

  Two.

  Then...

  “WHAT. THE. HELL?!”

  Alistair flinched. “What?! Poison resistance? Backward knees?”

  “GAMBLING?! I GOT GAMBLING?!”

  Alistair burst out laughing. “Oh that’s rich.”

  “I’m a hunter! A scout! A death-from-trees specialist! Why would I ever need Gambling?!”

  “Maybe for when your arrows run out.”

  Kaelren groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “I swear, if I roll snake eyes and my bow explodes, I’m dragging you into a pit.”

  Alistair chuckled, watching the elf mentally spiral.

  Then Kaelren froze again.

  Eyes widened.

  “Whoa.”

  Alistair’s smirk faded. “What now?”

  Kaelren stared at him. “My Agility just jumped. A lot.”

  Alistair shrugged. “Yeah. That’s me.”

  “Just how fast are you, vampire?”

  Alistair smirked. “Fast enough to be polite and not touch your creepy bone-arrows.”

  Kaelren grinned despite himself. “Smart choice.”

  They walked in comfortable silence, the occasional squawk of birds or crunch of leaves filling the air. Kaelren had finally stopped grumbling about gambling, and Alistair had mentally declared that a win.

  Then it happened.

  A soft chime in the back of his mind, subtle, but unmistakable.

  [Treasure Seeker – Passive: Loot nearby.]

  Alistair stumbled a step, caught off guard.

  Kaelren glanced over immediately. “What is it?”

  Alistair’s face split into a wide grin, too wide, the kind that showed both rows of fangs without apology.

  Kaelren squinted. “Okay, no. Put those away. That’s disturbing.”

  “I have good news,” Alistair said, still grinning. “Potentially shiny news.”

  Kaelren’s hand twitched near his bow. “Is this a bloodthirst thing or a treasure thing?”

  “Treasure,” Alistair said, patting his chest. “I’ve got a trait. It pings when something valuable is nearby.”

  Kaelren raised a brow. “That’s… oddly convenient.”

  “It’s called Treasure Seeker. If you’re a good boy, I might even let you see what we find.”

  Kaelren groaned. “Don’t ever say that again.”

  Alistair started jogging forward, eyes scanning the underbrush.

  Another ping.

  [Direction: East – 120 meters.]

  He broke into a full run.

  Kaelren sighed, muttered something about vampires with “ridiculous cheat-sheet builds,” and followed.

  They tore through the forest, boots pounding the dirt, laughter trailing behind them, shadows rushing past.

  Whatever was waiting ahead, it was calling now.

  And Alistair was ready to answer.

  The pings came faster now.

  Alistair felt them in the bones, like soft taps on the back of his mind, each one nudging him forward through the underbrush.

  Kaelren slowed beside him, scanning the area. “It’s here.”

  Alistair squinted ahead.

  A clearing opened between the trees, bathed in slanted sunlight. Moss-covered stones framed a small patch of earth, and nestled in the center...

  A chest.

  Tiny. Worn. Iron-bound and no bigger than a helmet.

  Kaelren pointed. “There. That’s it.”

  Another ping echoed softly in Alistair’s mind.

  [Treasure Seeker – Loot Source Confirmed.]

  Not as overwhelming as when he found the Dew of Possibilities… but still sharp. Still real.

  He stopped.

  That memory, kneeling at that fountain, drinking something meant for gods and curses alike flashed through him.

  His smile faded.

  Kaelren stepped forward.

  Alistair’s arm shot out and yanked him backward, dragging the elf behind a tree.

  Kaelren hissed, nearly elbowing him in the ribs. “What the hell?”

  “Too easy,” Alistair muttered. “Chest in the open. Nothing around it. Perfectly centered in a sunbeam like it’s waiting to be looted.”

  Kaelren narrowed his eyes. “There’s no one here.”

  “That’s what worries me.”

  Kaelren scowled. “You always this paranoid?”

  “I thought you were a hunter,” Alistair snapped. “Do you always charge straight into shiny bait like a goblin with gambling debt?”

  Kaelren gritted his teeth. “Fine. We wait.”

  They crouched in silence, eyes fixed on the chest.

  And then...

  Something moved.

  The air shimmered.

  From the space just behind the chest, a ripple spread across the clearing, like heat distorting the air. Then it condensed. Hardened.

  A shape formed.

  Four-legged.

  Lithe.

  Covered in smoky-black fur and plated with shards of translucent crystal.

  It stepped forward with slow grace, eyes glowing with flickering red light. Long ears, fanged mouth, and a tail that drifted behind it like mist.

  A magical beast.

  Kaelren whispered, “Wraithpanther.”

  Alistair sighed. “Of course it’s a wraithpanther.”

  The wraithpanther circled the chest once, low to the ground, muscles fluid like smoke wrapped in muscle. Its paws made no sound. Its crystalline plates shimmered in the light.

  Alistair and Kaelren crouched behind the tree, both watching in silence.

  Alistair leaned slightly toward him. “So. You said you were good with beasts?”

  Kaelren’s voice was flat. “Not the ones made of shadows and bad decisions.”

  “Fair.”

  Another lap around the chest.

  Alistair’s eyes narrowed. “It’s guarding. Not hunting.”

  Kaelren nodded. “Territory behavior.”

  “Think we can take it?”

  “Maybe.”

  Alistair raised a brow. “That’s not very hunter-y of you.”

  Kaelren whispered, “If I had all five of my Gravebark Arrows, I’d say yes.”

  “You do have all five.”

  “I meant emotionally.”

  Alistair rolled his eyes. “Okay. I’ll go in from the left, draw its attention. You circle around, wait until it commits, and then...”

  Kaelren nodded. “Then I shoot it.”

  “Exactly.”

  Kaelren pulled an arrow from his quiver, one of the regular ones this time. “You sure about this?”

  “Nope,” Alistair said. “But I really want that loot.”

  They both exhaled slowly.

  “Ready?” Alistair asked.

  Kaelren smirked. “Born.”

  And with that, they moved.

  Get early access to chapters, bonus content, and more. Now’s the perfect time to jump in!

  Patreon