A Hunter's Legacy: Rise of the Fallen
Chapter 31: In the Shade of Becoming

Chapter 31: In the Shade of Becoming

The fire crackled low between them, casting long shadows against the warped trees of Umbra’s End. Garrik sat cross-legged on a patch of dry moss, his sword unsheathed and resting across his knees. Though his body bore scratches and grime, there was no mistaking the resolve in his eyes—a hardened glint earned through days of isolation, survival, and skirmishes with Fallen.

Bane crouched nearby, sharpening his axe with slow, deliberate strokes. Phil leaned against a crooked tree, arms folded, his scythe buried in the dirt beside him like a silent sentinel.

"You’re sure it’s still bound?" Bane asked without looking up.

"I would’ve known if it wasn’t," Garrik replied. "The air near it trembles. It’s not fully awake, but it’s stirring. The seal’s breaking."

Phil pushed off the tree. "We can’t hit it directly. You saw what it did to that clearing. If it senses us coming, it’ll accelerate its mutation."

Garrik nodded. "Which is why we approach from the east. The cliffside runs parallel to the convergence. There’s a narrow channel under the old roots—natural stone. Fallen can’t crawl through it without deforming."

Bane raised an eyebrow. "You’re suggesting we sneak under it?"

"No," Garrik said, eyes narrowing. "I’m saying we get close enough to study the binding—understand how it’s anchored. And what’s weakening it. Then if it’s possible we could probably strengthen it... If we can’t we’ll just have to prepare for the surge and send word to the hunters and the rest of the world."

"And if the Harbinger breaks free earlier than expected?" Phil asked.

"Then we act as the world’s first line of defense."

Bane grunted. "Solid plan. One part stealth, two parts suicidal optimism. I’m in."

Phil gave a rare, dry smile.

They leaned over Garrik’s map. He had etched out the terrain from scouting: patches of corrupted brush, pulsing trees, and dangerous sinkholes. He circled three points in red—anchor nodes.

"These are what keep it tethered. We amplify those, the seal strengthens in layers. But we don’t touch the central glyph. If I’m correct it should still be in top shape."

Phil ran a finger along the markings. "I’ll take the northern node. Bane, you loop to the southwest with Garrik. We reconvene here."

"At the fissure?" Garrik asked.

Phil nodded. "It’s the only ground solid enough to hold if things go bad. And it gives us a fall-back route."

They spent the next hour syncing their internal timers and setting up flares. Bane attached a glowing rune-stone to his gauntlet—a contact signal in case of emergency. Garrik reinforced the edges of his blade with repelling sigils, etched painstakingly using char and silverroot.

Night fell like a curtain, thick and oppressive. Even with the fire, the surrounding dark felt alive.

But there was a strange calm between them.

Tomorrow, they’d step toward a creature that should never have existed. And if the Harbinger stirred, Umbra’s End might tear apart from the inside out.

They ate in silence, not from dread, but focus.

When sleep came, it was shallow and filled with visions.

***

Bane lay staring at the broken canopy above. Faint stars peeked through like distant eyes, cold and impassive.

His ribs still throbbed from the last encounter. But that wasn’t what kept him awake. It was the whisper.

Not the Harbinger.

Something else.

Chosen of flame...

He didn’t know what it meant, but it echoed when he gripped his axe. The weapon, dormant now, still carried an ember at its core—a pulsing presence that felt... ancient.

Phil stirred nearby but said nothing. Garrik slept lightly, one hand never straying far from his sword hilt.

Bane exhaled, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Tomorrow would demand more than brute strength.

He thought of will—of how he was doing, and how Brielle is handling things altogether.

He stood and stepped to the edge of the clearing, listening.

No growls. No footsteps. No eyes watching them this time.

The forest had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

He didn’t like it. But he’d take that over another wave of twisted limbs and mind-shredding whispers.

Tomorrow, they would move.

Not to slay a beast.

But to seal it once again.

And if it came down to battle—

Bane rested a hand on his axe.

Then the fire in his blood would answer the call.

**At Gondor’s place**

The cabin had grown quiet again. Outside, the world rustled with life—wind through leaves, the hum of cicadas, the gentle creak of wooden boards expanding under sunlight—but within the four walls, time seemed to slow.

Kael stood near the window, shirtless, arms folded as he stared out into the trees. The morning sun painted golden streaks across his shoulders, illuminating the faint sheen of sweat that clung to his skin. But Lyria wasn’t admiring the view.

She was watching the tension in his back. The stiffness in the way he stood. How often his eyes drifted to nowhere, how long he held his breath before exhaling.

"You’ve been quiet all morning," she said softly, approaching him with measured steps.

Kael didn’t turn to look at her. "Just thinking."

"Thinking... or remembering?" she asked.

His silence answered her well enough.

Lyria came to stand beside him, gazing out into the forest. "You know we still have a mission to accomplish right."

"I remember." He said.

Her hand reached out, tentative at first, then resolute, and rested against his bare arm. "we’re not going to hold on to the fractalis forever are."

"Yeah I know " his eyes slowly found it’s way to the floor.

"What’s wrong."

"It’s No—"

"And don’t you dare say nothing. You’ve always been terrible at lying."

Kael blinked, surprised

Lyria smirked faintly. "You don’t have to tell me everything. But if something is... haunting you, I’d rather we face it together than pretend it’s not there...we are friends aren’t we?"

He turned at that. Finally. And for a moment, Lyria almost regretted asking. His eyes were tired, distant, but behind them—storm clouds. Shadows he hadn’t invited.

"There’s something inside me, Lyria," he whispered. "I don’t know how to explain it. But since I woke up... I’ve felt different."

She stepped closer. Close enough to feel the heat of his skin. "Different how?"

"Stronger. Sharper. Like my body’s not entirely my own anymore. And there’s... a presence. Watching me. I can feel it—especially when I sleep. Like a cage rattling behind my thoughts."

Lyria’s throat tightened. But she didn’t flinch.

Instead, she lifted her hand and gently cupped his cheek. "Then you’ll just have to chain it."

A silence passed between them. Not uncomfortable—but heavy. Intimate.

Kael’s eyes dropped to her lips, then back to her gaze. His voice was hoarse. "You are a piece of work like always"

"I promised Garrik I’ll help you save the world."

The sincerity in her voice cracked something inside him. Kael lowered his forehead to hers, letting their breaths mingle.

Lyria’s heart pounded. She’d waited—gods, she’d waited—for him to open up, to let her in. Not just as the friend who trained beside him. Not as the girl who followed him into every battle. But as someone who could be more. Who wanted to be more.

And now, as his hands slowly rose to rest on her hips, she knew he felt it too.

Her fingers slipped to his chest. She didn’t know what had happened there. But it had left something behind. Not a scar—something deeper.

"Is it just me or is ur skin alot harder," she whispered.

He nodded. "Ohh You noticed."

"Off course I noticed idiot ."

Thier face now closer

Their lips almost touched—almost—until a distant voice called out. Gondor, somewhere beyond the trees.

Kael exhaled sharply and stepped back.

Lyria clenched her fists at her sides, frustrated. Not at him—but at the timing.

"Later," he murmured, eyes still on hers. "We’ll finish this later."

"You better mean that," she said, half teasing, half serious.

"I do."

**

They walked together through the sparse woods behind the cabin, where Gondor had pointed out some makeshift training dummies earlier. Kael felt the need to move, to push his body, to see if what he felt was real—or just in his head.

Lyria watched silently as he lifted a long wooden staff. He moved with precision—clean arcs, strong footwork. But something was off. Or rather... too right.

He was faster. Too fast.

She narrowed her eyes as he thrust the staff forward, striking the dummy hard enough to crack its chest in one clean blow.

"Kael..."

He stepped back, panting lightly. "Yeah?"

"You’ve never moved like that. Not even during your prime."

Kael didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked down at his hand. His grip hadn’t loosened. No shaking. No strain. Only control.

"Something’s happening to me, Lyria. And I don’t know if I should be afraid of it or not."

"You’re not alone in it," she said firmly. "You have me. You always have."

His throat worked, swallowing words he wasn’t ready to say.

He turned away, but her arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

Warm.

Secure.

He rested his hands over hers and closed his eyes.

She whispered into his back, "I won’t let anything take you. Not the harbinger. Not the Vanguard. Not even yourself."

Kael nodded, his voice low. "I believe you."

And for a moment, in the shadow of everything unraveling around them, that was enough.