Page 82 of The Ascended
"Prey," Marx breathed, touching her antlers.
"Exactly. Davina forces us to follow nature's balance,” Thatcher said. "Prey runs. Hides. Survives by being smarter, faster, more clever than their hunters."
"So we can't fight back." The full weight of our situation crashed over me. "That's why weapons dissolve. Why powers turn you into a tree. Prey doesn't attack—it adapts."
Thatcher took a deep breath.
"But one thing bothers me," I pressed on. "This entire trialscreams Davina. The hunt, the transformation, the natural order—it's all her. But where's Thorne?"
"His voice announced the change," Thatcher pointed out. "After the horn."
Marx stayed quiet for a moment. "Maybe we're thinking about it wrong."
"How so?"
"I don't know. But if both oversee this trial, there has to be more than just running and hiding."
Silence settled over our shelter. Outside, the forest had gone quiet—no birdsong, no rustling creatures.
Footsteps broke the stillness.
Someone approached our hiding place, trying and failing to move silently.
I gripped a knife from my pack, its weight steadying my nerves.
The footsteps stopped just outside.
"I know you're in there." A male voice, young and nervous. "I'm not here to fight. I just... I need help."
Marx's blade materialized in her hand. Through our bond, Thatcher coiled to spring.
"Show yourself," I commanded.
The air shimmered. A figure materialized—a young man, maybe a year younger than us, with brown hair matted to his forehead with sweat. He raised empty hands, wavering slightly as weight shifted off his left foot.
I vaguely recognized him.
“I’m alone. No need to attack," he said. "We never met, but I've been watching you three. My name is Kyren."
"Why should we trust you?" Marx's blade stayed ready.
"Because those things will kill me without allies."
Thatcher studied him with razor-sharp attention. "What's your power?"
"Illusions. I can camouflage us. Though the creatures will still trackour scent."
"Use your power and you die," Thatcher warned grimly.
"I just used it outside." Kyren's brow furrowed. "And I'm still breathing."
We absorbed this new information in stunned silence.
"It's defensive." Understanding bloomed across Thatcher's face. "Only offensive powers trigger punishment."
"Of course." Marx rolled her eyes.
"Can you run?" I studied his wrapped foot, noting how he kept shifting weight to his right side. "I mean really run. This won't work if you collapse on us."
