Ambush in the Mountains

The wind howled through the jagged peaks of the Serpent’s Tooth Mountains, a mournful dirge that seemed to claw at the very stone. Elara huddled deeper into Kael’s cloak, the rough wool a meager defense against the biting cold. Below them, the pass narrowed into a treacherous ribbon of ice and rock, a perfect place for an ambush. Kael’s hand, calloused and firm, rested on the hilt of his sword, his gaze fixed on the shadows pooling in the crags above.

“They know we’re coming,” he grunted, his voice barely audible above the wind’s shriek. “Too quiet. Too still.”

Elara’s heart hammered against her ribs. The past few days had been a blur of hurried travel, of Kael’s terse instructions and her own burgeoning, terrifying power. The lunar bloom, as he’d called it, had manifested in flashes of silver light during the last full moon, a surge of energy that had repelled their pursuers, but left her drained and Kael grim. He hadn’t explained it, not really. Just that it was tied to her, to the moon, and that it was the reason they were being hunted.