Chapter Four - Regret and Recollection

  The forest was alive with the sounds of birds and the rustling of leaves as the trio made their way through the dense underbrush. The sunlight streamed through the canopy above, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor. Vecht led the group, his sword sheathed but his hand resting on the hilt, his eyes scanning the terrain for any sign of movement. Alura followed close behind, her bow ready, while Lucan brought up the rear, his daggers spinning idly in his hands.

  They traveled for hours, pausing occasionally to check the map or listen for sounds of other groups. The tension in the air was palpable, but the camaraderie they’d begun to build kept the mood from growing too heavy.

  As they approached the river, the sound of rushing water grew louder, a welcome sign of progress. The sunlight had begun to shift, casting longer shadows as the afternoon waned, but there was still plenty of time to make camp.

  When they finally reached the riverbank, the scene before them was serene. The clear water reflected the trees on either side, rippling gently as fish darted near the surface. The river wound through the forest like a silver thread, its flow steady but calm.

  “Perfect,” Vecht said, surveying the area. “We’ll camp here. It’s defensible, and the river gives us everything we need.”

  Lucan dropped his satchel to the ground with a sigh of relief. “Finally. Now, where’s this fish feast we were promised?”

  Alura rolled her eyes, already unshouldering her bow. “You’ll have to catch them first. Unless you’re expecting them to jump into your hands.”

  Lucan grinned, crouching by the water and staring at the fish darting just beneath the surface. “How hard can it be? Just grab one, right?”

  “Lucan, don’t—” Vecht began, but it was too late.

  Lucan plunged his hands into the water with a loud splash, scattering the fish instantly. He stared at the empty water, his dripping hands outstretched. “Huh. They’re faster than they look.”

  Alura let out a soft sigh, muttering something under her breath as she nocked an arrow. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

  Alura stepped to the edge of the riverbank, her movements calm and deliberate. She pulled an arrow from her quiver, its resonance crystal glinting faintly in the fading sunlight. Taking a deep breath, she aimed at the water, tracking the movement of a fish near the surface.

  In one smooth motion, she released the arrow. It struck the water with a faint hum, and a moment later, she pulled it back, revealing a decent-sized fish impaled on the tip.

  Lucan’s jaw dropped. “Okay, that’s impressive. But unfair! You’ve got a bow. I’m working with my bare hands here.”

  “Then adapt,” Alura said, smirking as she set the fish aside. She handed Lucan the arrow, raising an eyebrow. “Your turn.”

  Lucan hesitated, glancing between the arrow and the river. “Fine. How hard can it be?”

  He crouched by the water again, squinting at the fish below. His first attempt splashed harmlessly into the river, and his second wasn’t much better. By the time he tried a third time, even Vecht couldn’t hold back his laughter.

  “Let me try,” Vecht said, stepping forward. Alura handed him another arrow, and she gestured for him to take his time.

  “Watch their movement,” she instructed. “Aim where they’re going to be, not where they are.”

  Vecht nodded, his focus sharpening. He tracked a fish’s path through the water and threw the arrow, missing by a few inches. He sighed, retrieving it as Lucan laughed.

  “It’s harder than it looks,” Vecht admitted.

  Alura smirked, her tone lighter than usual. “It takes practice. Keep trying.”

  The three of them spent the next hour by the river, their initial frustrations giving way to shared laughter and camaraderie. By the time they had caught enough fish to cook, even Lucan managed to spear one—though he claimed it was the “biggest and fastest” in the river.

  As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the trio followed the riverbank, searching for a safe spot to make camp. The forest grew denser as they walked, the trees forming a natural canopy that shielded the area from direct sunlight. Finally, they found a secluded bend in the river where the water slowed, forming a small pool surrounded by large rocks and thick undergrowth. The dense foliage offered cover from prying eyes, while the rocks created a natural barrier on one side.

  “This’ll do,” Vecht said, scanning the area. “We’ve got cover from the trees and rocks, and we’re close enough to the river for water and food.”

  Alura nodded, her sharp eyes sweeping the surroundings. “It’s defensible, and the rocks give us a good vantage point. We’ll hear anyone coming long before they see us.”

  Lucan dropped his satchel onto a flat rock and stretched, grinning. “Perfect. Now we’ve got shelter, water, and plenty of fish. All we need is a proper feast.”

  “Start the fire,” Vecht said, already gathering kindling from the forest floor. “We’ll need it before the light fades.”

  The three of them moved quickly, setting up a small camp as the sunlight waned. Lucan and Vecht struggled to start the fire until Alura stepped in, her flint and steel sparking easily against the dry kindling. Once the flames crackled to life, they began roasting their fish, the smell of cooking food filling the air.

  The fire had burned down to glowing embers as night settled over the forest. Vecht and Alura lay near the rocks, their weapons within easy reach as they rested. Lucan sat on a flat stone at the edge of the camp, twirling one of his daggers idly as he kept watch. The faint hum of the relics in their satchels blended with the quiet sounds of the forest, creating an almost peaceful atmosphere.

  Vecht stirred, sitting up slowly. He walked over to Lucan, his expression unusually serious. “Lucan.”

  Lucan glanced up, raising an eyebrow. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  Vecht shook his head, lowering himself onto a nearby rock. “I need to talk to you.”

  Lucan set his dagger down, his usual grin fading as he leaned forward. “What’s on your mind?”

  Vecht hesitated, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. Finally, he spoke. “Before the exam… I found something. A pouch of Glint. Hidden under my mother’s blanket.”

  Lucan’s eyes narrowed slightly, his posture straightening. “Glint?” His voice, normally light and irreverent, dropped into a serious tone. “How long has this been going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Vecht admitted, his jaw tightening. “I tried to talk to her about it, but she shut me out. Told me to leave her alone.”

  Lucan let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. For once, he didn’t offer a quip or a joke. “Vecht… Glint doesn’t just show up in someone’s life out of nowhere. It’s not something people just try for fun.”

  Vecht stared at the fire, his voice quiet. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Lucan leaned forward, his tone steady and uncharacteristically compassionate. “You can’t make her stop, Vecht. That’s the hard truth. But you can remind her why she doesn’t need it. You’re her son. Be there for her. Don’t let her feel like she’s alone.”

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  Vecht glanced at him, surprised. “You really believe that?”

  Lucan smirked faintly, though the sincerity in his eyes didn’t waver. “Yeah, I do. Look, you’re stubborn enough to survive me. You can survive this too. Just don’t give up on her. She’s your mom.”

  For a moment, Vecht said nothing. Then, he nodded slowly. “Thanks, Lucan.”

  Lucan leaned back, the usual grin returning to his face.

  From her spot near the fire, Alura lay still, her eyes closed but her mind sharp. She had heard every word of their conversation, though she made no sign of it. Their voices carried easily in the quiet night, and while she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, the weight of Vecht’s confession and Lucan’s response lingered with her.

  She opened her eyes briefly, staring up at the canopy of trees above. She hadn’t expected this side of either of them—Vecht’s vulnerability, or Lucan’s compassion.

  Closing her eyes again, she let the sound of the river and the fading embers lull her closer to sleep.

  The morning air was cool, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. The remnants of their small campfire had burned down to soft embers, casting a faint glow against the forest floor. Vecht crouched nearby, carefully laying out the relics they had gathered, his sharp eyes scanning each one as if weighing their worth. The soft hum of the resonance crystals pulsed in a steady rhythm, their glow reflecting the tension written across each of their faces.

  Alura sat cross-legged nearby, inspecting the tension in her bowstring while occasionally glancing at the relics. “We need to split them up,” she said, her tone sharp but practical. “If we get caught off guard, losing everything in one go is too much of a risk.”

  Vecht nodded in agreement. “Lucan, you’ll keep three. Alura, three. I’ll hold onto four.” He redistributed them carefully, adjusting the weight of his satchel. The distribution wasn’t entirely even, but it ensured that no one was an easy target carrying the majority of their group’s points.

  Lucan sat with his back against a tree, flipping one of his daggers absently in his palm. His usual easygoing demeanor was dulled by the reality of the final day. “Fine by me,” he muttered, grabbing his share of the relics.

  Vecht tucked the remaining relics into his satchel and stood, adjusting the strap across his shoulder. “We need to hunt before midday. The ones left standing aren’t weak.”

  Lucan finally cracked a smile, rolling his shoulders. “So we move fast, hit hard, and get out before anyone catches up?”

  Vecht nodded. “Exactly.”

  Alura slung her bow over her shoulder, surveying the forest ahead. “Then let’s move.”

  They moved quickly, weaving through the underbrush with practiced steps, using the dips and natural formations of the terrain to remain unseen. The weight of the final day pressed heavily on all of them—there were no easy fights left. Only those who had outlasted or overpowered their opponents remained.

  After about an hour of careful movement, Alura raised a fist, signaling for them to stop.

  “There,” she murmured, nodding toward a small clearing near the riverbank.

  Vecht crouched beside her, narrowing his eyes at the three figures ahead. Unlike some of the careless teams they had encountered earlier in the exam, this group wasn’t idly chatting or fumbling with their gear. They stood ready, weapons drawn, eyes constantly shifting.

  One of them was a twin swordsman, he moved with a practiced fluidity, shifting on his feet like a coiled spring. Another, a halberd-wielder, held their weapon firmly, exuding the quiet confidence of someone used to taking control in battle. The last, a blonde archer, leaned against a tree with an arrow already notched, his gaze flicking between the treetops as if expecting an attack from above.

  “They’re experienced,” Vecht murmured, analyzing their movements.

  “The archer goes first,” Alura said immediately. “If he spots us, we lose our element of surprise.”

  Vecht nodded. “Lucan, take the swordsman. Keep him off balance.”

  Lucan twirled one of his daggers between his fingers, grinning. “You know me, I aim to disappoint.”

  Vecht gave a final glance at Alura before setting his sights on the halberd wielder. “Let’s move.”

  The ambush was swift.

  Alura’s arrow struck first, slicing through the air and hitting the blonde archer’s leg before he even registered the attack. The resonance crystal flared, locking his muscles. He gasped, staggering as the energy spread through his body, his bow slipping from his grasp.

  Lucan was already in motion. He darted toward the twin swordsman, weaving through the underbrush like a shadow. His first strike was a feint, forcing the swordsman to commit to a block. The moment his opponent’s stance shifted, Lucan twisted, pivoting behind him, and delivered a clean, rapid strike to the ribs.

  The resonance energy pulsed through the swordsman’s body, and his grip on his weapons faltered. “Tch—” he barely had time to curse before Lucan followed up with another hit to his shoulder, sealing the immobilization.

  “One down!” Lucan called, as he simultaneously removed one relic from the swordman’s belt pouch.

  Vecht, meanwhile, met the halberd-wielder head-on.

  His opponent reacted instantly, swinging the heavy weapon in a wide arc, trying to control the space between them. Vecht sidestepped at the last second, the halberd narrowly missing his ribs as it crashed into the dirt.

  Vecht didn’t wait for them to reset. He moved inside their reach, forcing them to retreat or risk being overwhelmed. The halberd wielder attempted to pivot, but Vecht was already there.

  A quick slash to the arm.

  A follow-up strike to the ribs.

  The resonance impact surged through the wielder’s body, and their legs buckled.

  They collapsed to the ground, completely immobilized.

  Vecht, Lucan, and Alura had each retrieved one relic for each opponent bringing their total to 13.

  Alura retrieved her arrow, scanning the treetops. “We need to move before—”

  The air shifted.

  A shadow moved.

  Before Vecht could react, a sudden force slammed into his side. The impact sent him staggering, his sword nearly slipping from his grip as he barely managed to keep his footing. His ribs burned where the strike landed, but he held firm, adjusting his stance.

  Then, all at once, three faces Vecht had not expected came into view.

  Dain Valrek and his team emerged.

  Dain moved like a specter, his black hair tied back, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Vecht as he closed the distance. His sword gleamed in the morning light, already mid-swing. Vecht barely raised his arms to block. The impact sent a sharp jolt through his muscles, the resonance energy clashing against his own. His grip weakened for a moment, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to hold steady.

  “You should’ve seen this coming,” Dain taunted, pressing forward with relentless precision.

  Vecht ground his teeth, each of Dain’s strikes forcing him back. He needed to regain control, but Dain was faster, stronger, and completely composed. Vecht had fought skilled opponents before, but Dain’s blade moved with an effortless efficiency, reading his defenses and adapting in real time. He was one of the few students Vecht had never held up against in combat.

  To the side, Lucan had engaged Dain’s mace-wielding teammate—Bren Malrik.

  Bren was a towering presence, built like a fortress, his broad shoulders blocking out the light as he swung his weapon in a devastating arc. Lucan barely ducked in time, the wind from the strike whipping past his cheek. If that had connected, it would’ve taken him out in one hit.

  Lucan recovered quickly, rolling to the side, daggers flashing as he darted forward. He aimed low, striking Bren’s leg with a quick, precise jab. The resonance crystal flared, but the sheer size of his opponent blunted the impact. Bren grunted, his muscles slowing but not fully locking.

  “Damn,” Lucan muttered. “You’re a tough one.”

  Bren swung again, and this time, Lucan had to jump back. The student pressed forward, keeping the fight close, cutting off Lucan’s space to maneuver.

  Lucan needed an opening—

  Then he saw Vecht struggling against Dain.

  Lucan made a snap decision. He threw a feint, dodging the next mace strike at the last second, then lashed out with his dagger, slicing across Bren’s dominant arm.

  The resonance energy surged. Bren’s grip faltered just enough.

  Lucan took off running.

  “I’m on it!” he called, sprinting toward Vecht.

  But Dain was waiting.

  As Lucan lunged, daggers flashing, Dain sidestepped at the last moment, pivoting effortlessly.

  Lucan barely had time to adjust before Dain’s hand shot out—not to strike, but to seize Lucan’s belt pouch.

  With a swift, practiced motion, Dain ripped the entire pouch free.

  Lucan’s eyes widened.

  Before Lucan could react, Bren—now recovered—charged from behind, barreling into him.

  Lucan stumbled, skidding backward toward the riverbank.

  “Shit!”

  His foot slipped on the slick stones.

  For a split second, his eyes locked onto Vecht’s.

  Then— the current claimed him.

  The cold rush of water engulfed him, the force of it pulling him under as he was swept downstream.

  “Lucan!” Vecht shouted, his voice hoarse.

  Dain barely spared the river a glance. Instead, he smirked as he weighed the pouch in his hand, tucking it into his satchel.

  “That feels like quite a few,” he mused. “I know you’ve got more.”

  He lunged again—

  This time, Vecht wasn’t fast enough.

  His sword partially deflected Dain’s blade, but it still clipped his ribs, the resonance crystal flaring upon impact. Pain lanced through Vecht’s side, his muscles seizing for a brief second. His vision blurred at the edges, his body faltering—

  Then, an arrow whistled through the air.

  Dain twisted, narrowly avoiding the shot aimed at his exposed shoulder.

  Alura.

  She was already moving, another arrow drawn, her sharp eyes locked onto Dain.

  On the other side of the battlefield, Alura had just finished immobilizing her opponent—Selis Veyne, a glaive-wielding combatant.

  Their fight had been fast and brutal. Selis was aggressive, pushing forward with powerful, sweeping strikes, her glaive cutting through the air with precision.

  Alura had no room for mistakes.

  But Alura didn’t make mistakes.

  She kept her distance, forcing Selis to overextend—

  And the moment she did, Alura loosed an arrow directly into her dominant arm.

  The resonance impact locked half of Selis’ body on contact.

  With her opponent partially immobilized, Alura quickly adjusted her aim, delivering a final shot to her leg.

  Selis collapsed, muscles locking fully.

  Alura turned just in time to see Dain strike Vecht.

  Alura didn’t hesitate.

  “Vecht, move!” she barked.

  Vecht didn’t hesitate either.

  He deflected Dain’s next strike just enough to break away and sprinted toward Alura. She loosed another shot, forcing Dain’s team to pause.

  Together, Vecht and Alura vanished into the dense foliage.