Chapter 7 - Echoes of Stone and Shadow
When I woke from my nap, the sun was already high in the sky. According to Angel's log, I had slept for six hours. Just enough to regain some energy, though my body still felt heavy, as if pain and exhaustion had become a second skin.
With my stomach growling and my throat parched, I got up and checked the saddlebags. I found some dry grain and a few strips of jerky. It wasn't a feast, but in my current state, it tasted like heaven. As I chewed slowly, the salty, rough flavor grounded me back in reality. I was still alive. For now.
After partially quelling my hunger, I removed the bloodstained tunic and stepped into the small river that crossed the clearing. The water was freezing, but it felt purifying—like every drop was washing away the memories of the past days. I thought about trying to catch a fish, but the river seemed dead. Not a single ripple, no hint of life beneath the surface. The silence didn't feel natural. As always, Angel detected no anomalies, but the unease lingered.
I gave up and carefully washed the tunic before storing it in one of the horse's bags. Then I dressed in the spare clothes from the scout rider: plain linen, unadorned—perfect attire for a nobody. It hid all trace of the opulence and magical emblems that had once decorated my original outfit. Now, I was just another boy on the road. A ghost among thousands.
I paused for a moment by the river. For the first time since my arrival, I saw my reflection clearly. I knew I was in good shape thanks to Angel's scans, but the face staring back caught me off guard. My features were harmonious—even beautiful. A mix of youth and intensity. Light brown hair, honey-colored eyes that hovered between tenderness and storm. No matter how simple my clothes were, something about me stood out. A haunting beauty, almost unnatural.
I shook my head and filled the waterskin. No time for vanity.
Throughout my stay in that clearing, a persistent feeling clung to me—the sense of being watched. Not by a beast or hunter, but by something deeper, older. A sightless gaze. Even Angel, with her high-precision detection systems, couldn't pinpoint the source. Only a nameless whisper between the trees.
I left before that presence chose to reveal itself.
The journey continued without major incidents. We rode all day and part of the night, stopping only long enough to rest the horse and prevent my muscles from collapsing. The road was long, but my destination was clear. I couldn't afford doubts. Not now.