Page 78 of Daughter of the Serpent

Could it be the Karnakim? Could it be the monsters beyond the wall, here in the forest?

Her hand instinctively sought the cool steel blade of Hallva that she had strapped to her thigh, grateful that she had been smart enough to not leave her quarters unarmed. With urgency, she summoned the memories of Axel's training, his words weaving through her mind as she battled the rising fear. With a steady grip, she freed the blade from its sheath, her fingers wrapping around its handle with newly practiced precision. The blade hummed in her hand, her fingers twitching to use it.

Another roar shook the scene around her, the sound of undoubted pain searing fear deeper in the pit of her stomach.

She mentally kicked herself.

She shouldn’t have come out this time, she should have seeked the solace of her bed.

Ashes.Why did she have to constantly get herself into situations she shouldn’t be?

The forest stilled, and to her relief the agonizing screams quieted.

Yet she still clung tightly to her dagger.

Slowly she moved from the bedrock towards the trees, her eyes scanning through the thick foliage into the darkness. If she could only make out the source, she may yet move beyond it and escape notice. If she could entrust herself with stealth, she may be able to avoid leaning onto her limited training. She could only hope that if not, Axel’s mentoring had paid off.

A heartbeat passed, and she finally caught sight of it - a massive silhouette emerging from the shadows, its form hulking and imposing against the backdrop of towering trees.

Each movement was a testament of power, muscles rippling beneath a coat of coarse fur. Its rich dark coat was a tapestry of golden brown, shifting with every step, catching the faint glimmer of moonlight filtering through the trees above. Massive paws, equipped with razor - sharp claws, left deep impressions in the soft earth, as it drew closer. The bear's breath billowed in the crisp night air, a plume of steam mingling with the faint wisps of mist. Its nose wrinkled upward, catching her scent against the sea breeze, no doubt capturing the warmth of her flesh only steps from the forest threshhold. Frozen in place, Sylvie dared not breathe as she met the bear's gaze, her body tensing with apprehension.

Time seemed to stand still as they locked eyes, each assessing the other with caution.

A sense of recognition tinged her senses, a peculiar sensation stirring in the depths of her gut, elusive yet undeniable. Her body and soul seemed to still to a strange calm, and despite the imminent danger she felt a feeling of safety envelop her.

Remembering she should be afraid, that she should do something, anything - she flared her magic to life. Thehum of the energy roused at her call, and the palms of her hands began to warm even against the frigid breeze.

She may not be most skilled with the blade or magic, but she would use everything she had at her disposal.

As she took in the bear, its sheer weight and size alone, never mind its mouth full of sharp teeth, would have her dead in seconds - yet she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

She should scream.

She should run.

Yet, she stood in the stillness, aside from her thick braid whipping at her back against the wind.

For an instant, it remained motionless, as though absorbing her presence, examining her with an air of detached interest. Yet, its almond - shaped eyes held a strange softness, glowing like liquid honey beneath the moon's gentle light.

As she prepared herself for a fight to the death, she was surprised when it suddenly turned its large head in the direction opposite her, and it quickly vanished into the underbrush, leaving Sylvie alone once more with only the echo of its presence lingering in the stillness of the night.

The crisp morning air carried the distant hum of temple prayers as Sylvie slipped beyond the temple walls. A cold wind stirred the hem of her robes, rustling through the trees that lined the secluded path leading to the training grounds. She wasn’t sure why she had come looking for him - perhaps to confirm what she already suspected. But the weight of what she had seen pressed against her chest. She had to tell someone.

She spotted him near the treeline, leaning against a weathered post, arms crossed over his chest. Clad in his fighting leathers, Haldor was a stark contrast to the quiet softness of the morning. An uneatenapple dangled from his fingers, forgotten. His gaze was distant, his jaw tight - only half - listening to the murmurs of two fellow warriors before him.

Among them stood Siv, the fair - haired maiden Haldor had danced with at the rebirth celebrations. She twisted a lock of her braid between her fingers, watching him intently. Too intently.

A bitter taste rose in Sylvie’s throat.

She hated the way her stomach clenched at the memory - the way Haldor had looked at Siv that night as they danced, before leading her into the shade of the trees. For just a moment, Sylvie had wished she had been the one he reached for instead.

Heat flared beneath her skin, unwelcome. Foolish.

She stepped closer, careful, wondering what weighed on his mind now. Or whom.

But his attention wasn’t on Siv. Not anymore.

And, she realized with a dull ache, it wasn’t on her either.