The air outside was cold and sharp, tinged with the scent of damp earth and pine. Havyn inhaled deeply, letting the crispness settle in his lungs, clearing away the choking dust and stagnant dampness from the caverns below. They were free.
For now.
Beside him, Selene sat against a moss-covered boulder, her silver eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. The warlock sigils on her arms had dulled, their once-vibrant glow reduced to faint, flickering embers. Blood from the wounds on her torso had soaked through the torn fabric of her tunic, but she barely seemed to notice. Her breath was slow, measured—controlled.
Havyn knew the look. She was keeping herself together, pushing past the pain, pushing past the fear.
"They won't stop hunting me," she murmured after a long silence, her voice hollow.
Havyn ran a hand through his tangled hair, the weight of her words pressing against him. "Then we'll hunt them first."
Selene turned her head toward him, a hint of something—skepticism? Amusement? Sadness?—flashing in her tired gaze. "You make it sound easy."
He shrugged. "It won't be. But we can't keep running forever."
Selene let out a quiet laugh—dry, humorless. "You don't understand. The Daughters of the Abyss… they don't just chase their targets. They don't give up. They have roots everywhere. Influence in places you wouldn't expect. If I don't stop them for good, they'll never stop coming for me."
Havyn studied her, sensing the unspoken words beneath her exhaustion.
If they caught her, they wouldn't kill her.
They would drag her back, bind her in ways no magic or blade could undo. They would break her again.
He clenched his jaw. "Then we destroy them."
Selene arched a brow, but her lips curved into a wry smirk. "You talk like it's possible."
Havyn flexed his hands, still raw from clawing his way through stone and shadow. "We survived them once. We'll do it again."
She exhaled slowly, rubbing at her temples. "You don't even know what they are."
"Then tell me," he said.
Selene hesitated. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, staring off into the trees as the wind whispered through the branches.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke.
The Origins of the Daughters
"They weren't always like this," she said, voice distant. "Not in the beginning."
Havyn listened, silent.
"The Abyss is older than kingdoms, older than gods," she continued. "It isn't a place, not exactly. It's more like… a force. A will that hungers. People don't stumble into the Abyss. It chooses them. It marks them."
She rubbed absently at the black sigils on her arm, her fingers ghosting over them.
"The Daughters were once keepers of that knowledge," she said, voice tinged with something almost like regret. "They studied the Abyss, learned to wield it without losing themselves. They thought they could control it."
Havyn frowned. "And they failed."
Selene's chuckle was bitter. "Of course they did. The Abyss doesn't give power. It takes. It feeds on desperation, on pain. They started pushing further, experimenting, trying to force the Abyss to obey. But the more they tried to shape it, the more it shaped them."
Havyn let the words sink in. "And you were part of that?"
Selene's jaw tightened. "Not by choice."
A shadow passed over her expression, and he knew she wouldn't say more.
He didn't press.
Instead, he turned his focus to the problem at hand.
"They still have numbers. Influence. Magic," he said. "If we want to stop them, we need more than just the two of us."
Selene gave him a tired glance. "You have an army hidden in your pocket?"
Havyn shook his head. "No. But there are people who would fight them. People who fear them. We find those people. We make allies."
Selene scoffed. "You're assuming anyone would be willing to go against them."
"You're assuming no one would," Havyn countered.
Selene opened her mouth as if to argue, then hesitated.
Havyn pressed on. "What about the ones who got away?" he asked. "You said they sacrificed those who couldn't handle the power. You really think none of them survived? That none of them might want revenge?"
Selene blinked, and for the first time since escaping the caverns, he saw something flicker behind her exhaustion—hope.
"Maybe," she murmured.
It was enough.
Tracking Shadows
They couldn't stay in one place for long. Havyn knew that.
Once Selene had caught her breath, they made their way deeper into the wilderness, keeping off the main roads, moving under the cover of dense trees. The forest was ancient—twisted roots, towering oaks, moss-covered ruins that hinted at civilizations long gone.
They walked in silence at first, both lost in thought. The fresh air helped clear some of the suffocating weight of the battle, but Havyn remained on edge. The Daughters were not the kind of enemy to accept defeat.
At any moment, he expected to hear their whispers on the wind.
Selene was the first to break the silence.
"There's a town a few days from here," she said, adjusting the straps of her satchel. "Or what's left of one. I don't know if it still stands, but if it does, we might find something useful."
"What kind of town?"
"A ruined one," she said simply.
Havyn frowned. "What happened to it?"
She hesitated. "The Abyss."
That was all she said.
Havyn didn't push.
They moved quickly, stopping only when necessary. Havyn's injuries throbbed, but he ignored them. He'd dealt with far worse. Selene, however, was not okay.
She was weakening.
Her warlock magic had burned through too much energy in the battle. The more they traveled, the paler she became. By the second night, she was barely standing.
"We need to stop," Havyn said firmly.
Selene shook her head. "We don't have time."
"You won't last much longer like this."
She clenched her jaw. "I can handle it."
Havyn grabbed her wrist before she could push forward. "No, you can't."
Selene glared, but there was no real fight left in her. She was exhausted.
Havyn softened his grip. "Just rest," he murmured.
Selene exhaled sharply, frustration flickering across her face, but she finally nodded.
They set up camp beneath the thick canopy of an ancient tree. Havyn started a small fire, ensuring the light wouldn't be visible from too far away. He sat beside her as she wrapped her arms around her knees, staring into the flames.
"Do you ever regret it?" he asked.
Selene didn't look at him. "Regret what?"
"Leaving them."
Her fingers tightened against her cloak. "No."
The way she said it—so firm, so certain—made Havyn believe her.
But there was something else in her expression. A quiet sorrow.
She wasn't mourning the Daughters.
She was mourning the person she had been before them.
He didn't press. Instead, he sat beside her, silent, letting the fire crackle between them.
When she finally leaned her head against his shoulder, her breathing evening out as sleep took her, Havyn remained awake.
Watching. Waiting.
The Daughters were out there.
And he wouldn't let them take her again.