A Hunter's Legacy: Rise of the Fallen
Chapter 30: Even the Broken Parts

Chapter 30: Even the Broken Parts

The wind had gone still by the time dusk wrapped its fingers around the cabin.** The sky above bled into hues of amber and bruised violet—an aching kind of beauty that came only when the world quieted. Inside, the air was heavy, not with heat, but with something unspoken, something that settled between them like a weight neither could name.

Kael sat at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced and clenched tightly. He hadn’t spoken much since returning from his morning walk with Lyria. His mind churned behind unreadable eyes, thoughts twisting in ways he couldn’t articulate. His body, somehow healed from the burn, pulsed with something... unfamiliar.

Stronger.

Sharper.

But not entirely his.

Lyria sat beside him—close enough that their arms nearly brushed, yet still giving him the space he hadn’t asked for but clearly needed. Her gaze drifted to him often, searching for cracks in his silence, clues in the stiffness of his shoulders, the way his jaw tensed when he thought she wasn’t looking.

"You haven’t really been yourself since you woke up," she said at last, her voice soft as falling snow, careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile peace lingered between them. "You keep saying you’re fine, and maybe you are... but something’s changed."

Kael exhaled slowly, the breath shaky, like it had been waiting too long to escape. "I feel like I’ve woken up... but parts of me are still asleep. Or maybe dreaming."

She tilted her head, concern tugging at her features, deepening the crease between her brows. "Dreaming what?"

"Not dreams," he muttered, shaking his head. "More like... trances. But they echo. They whisper. And they never stop."

Lyria’s fingers curled slightly against the bed, the fabric bunching beneath her touch. Her voice was quiet but steady, the way it always was when she was trying to anchor him. "But earlier... you said—"

"I know." He finally met her gaze. His eyes were clear, but behind them danced uncertainty, shadows of something he couldn’t name. "I feel fine. I really do. But there’s something stirring inside me. It feels... powerful. Like I’ve been rebuilt from the inside. But it’s not just strength." He hesitated, eyes falling to his hands, flexing them as if testing the truth of his own words. "It’s like I’ve been upgraded... and I don’t know what that makes me anymore."

A silence stretched between them, heavy and delicate, the kind that could either bridge the distance or widen it.

Lyria turned to face him fully, reaching out. Her hand pressed against his chest, just over his heart. Kael’s breath caught—not because of the touch itself, but the emotion behind it. Her hand was gentle, but her eyes burned with unspoken fear and unshakable resolve.

"I was terrified," she whispered, voice trembling. "When the seizures started—when you collapsed—I thought I was losing you. And in that moment, the world felt hollow. A world without you... I don’t want to live in that kind of world, Kael."

Her voice cracked at the end. She swallowed, leaning closer until her forehead nearly touched his. Her breath mingled with his, warm and steady, a contrast to the storm inside him.

"If you’re breaking," she said, "then let me break with you. And if you’re changing... then let me change too."

Kael’s expression faltered, his mask slipping. Sadness flickered across his face, subtle but raw, like a wound freshly uncovered.

"You shouldn’t have to carry this."

"I want to," she said without pause. "All of it. You. Even the pieces you think are too broken."

He looked away, struggling for words, his throat working silently before he managed, "I didn’t know you felt this way..."

"I figured it out while you were unconscious," she said softly. "Took that and Gondor dragging sense into me to finally admit it."

Kael gave a dry chuckle, more out of breath than humor. "I’m here now, Lyria. And it’ll take more than some cursed burn to take me out. So don’t go giving up on me, alright?"

A faint smile touched her lips, small but real, the first genuine lightness between them in days. Their hands found each other—fingers intertwining instinctively, as if they had always known how to fit together. The tension that had clung to them finally cracked, like thawing ice under sunlight. For a moment, everything else melted away. The world shrank to warmth, to closeness, to something unspoken finally beginning to take shape.

---

**Elsewhere, in the heart of Umbra’s End,**

The forest thickened, swallowing sound and light alike. Shadows clung to twisted roots and moss-draped branches, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and something darker, something that didn’t belong.

Phil crouched by a moss-covered stone, scanning the treetops and forest floor with sharp, deliberate eyes. Beside him, Bane moved forward steadily, his axe slung over one shoulder, his grip tight even as his side ached beneath the bandages. Blood still stained the cloth, a slow but persistent reminder of their last encounter.

"He’s close," Phil murmured, voice low, barely above a whisper.

Bane narrowed his eyes, scanning the underbrush. "You certain?"

"He left marks—only I’d notice them. There’s one ahead."

They pressed deeper into the underbrush, the silence between them heavy with unspoken tension. Soon, the trees parted into a clearing, the ground uneven, littered with broken branches and disturbed earth. The scent of char lingered in the air like a ghost of violence past, a memory of fire and struggle.

An X had been slashed into a tree’s bark, deep and deliberate. Below it, a shard of broken steel glinted faintly in the fading light.

Phil knelt, fingers brushing the mark. "He passed here."

The trail led them toward a cave mouth draped in thick vines, the entrance half-hidden, as if the earth itself had tried to swallow it. No words passed between them. They moved forward, steps measured, senses sharp.

Inside, the air grew colder with each step, the stone walls tightening around them like the jaws of some great beast. For nearly fifteen minutes, they descended into the earth, the darkness pressing in, the only sound their own breathing and the occasional drip of water from the ceiling. Then, a dim orange glow flickered ahead, weak but unmistakable.

"Hold up," Bane muttered, one hand lifting in warning.

They approached quietly, their movements practiced, seamless. The tunnel opened into a cavern, its shadows dancing in the firelight, the space small but defensible.

There he was.

Garrik.

The old hunter knelt beside a shallow firepit, its coals barely alive, their glow faint and flickering. His cloak hung in tatters, his armor scorched, the leather straps frayed and brittle. One leg was wrapped tightly in stained cloth, the fabric dark with dried blood.

He didn’t move at their approach.

Phil stepped forward, his voice steady but edged with something unreadable. "Hell of a hideout, Garrik."

The man looked up slowly, his eyes bloodshot but alert, the firelight catching the lines of exhaustion etched into his face. A dry, hollow chuckle left his lips. "Took you long enough... Phil."

"You’re hurt."

"Surprised I’m not dead," Garrik grunted, forcing himself to stand with a grimace. "That thing nearly took my damn leg."

Bane moved forward without hesitation, offering support. Garrik didn’t resist, his weight shifting onto the younger man’s shoulder with a grateful nod.

"How long have you been down here?"

"Two days. Maybe three. Hard to tell underground."

Phil checked the wound, his fingers careful but firm. Slightly festering—but no signs of spread. It’s just a bruise, not deep.

"We need to move. Can you walk?"

"Not fast, but I’ll manage."

Phil frowned, his gaze lingering on the wound before flicking back to Garrik’s face. "How’d you get bruised "

Garrik’s expression darkened, his voice dropping to a growl. "its nothing "

They helped him gather his meager supplies—dried rations, a cracked compass, and a sheathed hunter’s blade he hadn’t even drawn, as if the fight had been over before it began.

As they made their way back through the winding tunnels, Phil glanced at Bane, his voice low. "No sign of anything else."

"Then we’re lucky," Bane muttered, though his grip on his axe tightened.

Garrik eyed Bane curiously, his gaze assessing. "And who’s this?"

"He came with two others. Thadeus sent them—without telling the other Vanguards."

Garrik raised a brow, a flicker of amusement cutting through the pain. "Thadeus, huh?"

He turned to Bane, his voice gruff but not unkind. "What’s your name, lad?"

"Bane, sir," he replied, the stiffness in his voice betraying his nerves.

Garrik studied him for a long moment before nodding. "I’ll say this now," he said, straightening as much as his injury would allow. "If Thadeus sent you to convince me to turn back, you’re wasting your time."

So much for Brielle and Will’s plan, Bane thought bitterly.

"Alright then," Garrik said gruffly. "Let’s move."

---

They emerged from the cave just as twilight blanketed the forest, the sky above deepening into indigo, the first stars piercing through the canopy. Garrik paused at the clearing’s edge, eyes sweeping the darkening trees, his expression unreadable.

"It’s worse than I thought," he muttered. "The forest... it’s shifting."

"So are we," Bane replied, gripping his axe, his voice firm.

Phil said nothing.

Because deep down, he knew Garrik was right.

---

Back at the Gondor’s place,

Kael sat beside Lyria, their shoulders pressed together in comfortable silence. The quiet between them no longer felt strained—it was full of meaning, of things unsaid but understood.

Lyria tilted her head, eyes flicking to the starlit sky above, the vast expanse of night stretching endlessly beyond the cabin’s roof. "Aren’t the stars peaceful tonight?"

Kael thought of the whisper in his head, the one that never quite faded. Of the power surging through his limbs, foreign yet familiar. Of the tower he’d seen with eyes not entirely his, its shadow stretching across his dreams.

"I don’t know about peaceful," he said honestly. "But they are... beautiful."

She leaned in, lips brushing the edge of his cheek, a touch so light it might have been imagined.

Kael turned to her, their faces barely apart, the space between them charged with something electric, something inevitable.

The moment hung—longer than it should have.

Neither moved.

But something inside them had.

And it wouldn’t stop now.