It started with the smell of burning.
Yuren jolted awake, heart hammering. The night air, once cool and clean, was thick now—heavy with smoke and something darker underneath.
He rolled to his feet just as a shrill whistle split the trees.
Zhaoyan.
Without thinking, Yuren sprinted toward the source.
Branches slapped his arms, roots clawed at his boots. The forest glowed with unnatural red light now, the trees catching fire one by one, as if an invisible hand swept across the land.
He burst into their training clearing—and skidded to a halt.
Figures cloaked in black and ash stood all around, closing in.
In the center, back to back with sword drawn, stood Zhaoyan.
Yuren didn't hesitate.
He rushed to his side, sliding into position as talismans flared to life between his fingers.
Zhaoyan shot him a quick glance. "Took you long enough."
Yuren grinned breathlessly. "Wanted you to warm up first."
The nearest Ashbound charged—and everything exploded into motion.
---
Yuren barely had time to think.
An enemy lunged at him, spear glinting in the firelight. Yuren ducked under it, grabbed the man's arm, and twisted—throwing him into a tree hard enough to leave a dent.
A second attacker went for Zhaoyan, but his blade flashed, quick and brutal, sending the man sprawling.
More came.
For every one they knocked down, three more replaced them, moving in tight formation.
"Too many," Yuren panted, slashing a burning sigil into the air. A wave of searing energy knocked two enemies back.
Zhaoyan stayed close, his strikes precise and lethal. But even he was breathing harder now.
An Ashbound cultist threw a weighted chain toward Yuren's neck—fast, aimed to strangle.
Zhaoyan moved faster.
He slammed into Yuren, knocking him aside just as the chain zipped past. They hit the ground together—Zhaoyan practically on top of him, hands braced against the earth on either side of Yuren's head.
For a breathless second, they froze.
The world around them blurred: smoke, shouting, the clash of steel—but right there, it was just—
Close.
Too close.
Yuren blinked up at Zhaoyan, heart stuttering for reasons that had nothing to do with battle.
Zhaoyan's gaze flickered, unreadable.
Then he pushed off roughly, yanking Yuren to his feet.
"Focus," he growled, cheeks slightly pink.
"Right. Focus. Murder first, complicated feelings later," Yuren muttered under his breath.
They spun back into the fight.
---
The Ashbound circled tighter, chanting now—low and terrible.
Yuren felt the magic crawl across his skin, sharp and wrong.
"They're trying to seal us in!" he shouted.
Zhaoyan sliced down another cultist. "We have to break the ritual!"
A massive figure emerged from the trees—twice as tall as a man, its body stitched from corpses and cloaked in rags.
A Revenant.
The Ashbound's war-beasts.
Yuren stared up at it, blood draining from his face. "You have got to be kidding me."
The Revenant roared—a sound like tombstones cracking—and charged.
Zhaoyan moved without hesitation, racing to meet it.
Yuren cursed and followed, flames gathering in his palms.
They hit it together—Zhaoyan's blade slicing deep into one arm while Yuren blasted fire at its face. It stumbled but didn't fall, swinging a huge arm with bone-crushing force.
Yuren dodged—but not fast enough.
The Revenant's claw grazed his side, tearing fabric and sending him sprawling.
"Yuren!" Zhaoyan's voice was sharp, desperate.
He lunged forward, blade flashing in a deadly arc.
The Revenant roared again—but this time, its wounds burned where Yuren's fire had touched it. It faltered, slower now.
Yuren gritted his teeth against the pain and shoved himself upright.
Not done. Not yet.
He raised his hands—and this time, the fire didn't just gather.
It answered.
Golden, blinding flames roared to life around him, spiraling upward.
Yuren let it fly.
The Revenant shrieked as the sacred fire engulfed it, eating through its unnatural body faster than any normal flame could.
In seconds, it was ash on the wind.
The battlefield fell silent.
The remaining Ashbound recoiled—fear flashing in their hidden faces.
Then they fled, melting into the burning forest like smoke.
---
Yuren slumped to his knees, exhausted.
Zhaoyan was at his side instantly, catching his arm. "You're hurt."
"I'm fine," Yuren rasped.
"You're not." Zhaoyan's hand hovered uncertainly over the torn side of Yuren's shirt. His fingers brushed skin—a touch so gentle Yuren almost flinched.
Heat rose to Yuren's cheeks that had nothing to do with magic.
"You idiot," Zhaoyan said softly. "You could've died."
Yuren managed a crooked smile. "Wasn't planning on it. You'd miss me too much."
Zhaoyan's mouth twitched—half a frown, half something that might've been a smile if it hadn't looked so broken.
"You have no idea," he said under his breath.
Before Yuren could even process that, Zhaoyan straightened, the moment snapping like a thread pulled too tight.
"Come on," he said gruffly. "We need to get somewhere safe before they regroup."
Yuren staggered up, leaning heavily on him. "Yeah, yeah. But next time, you can be the one flattened by an undead giant."
Zhaoyan didn't answer—but his grip on Yuren's arm tightened slightly.
As if he was afraid to let go.
---
Far away, back at the Ashbound stronghold
The leader stood before the broken remnants of the Revenant.
His smile was cold.
"So the boy burns brighter than we thought."
He turned to his followers, voice like a blade.
"Good. Now we truly begin."
---
To be continued