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Thane is thrown violently back into the real world with a fresh wound on his cheek that should not exist, forcing him to confront the terrifying possibility that what happens in Arbelon is crossing into reality. After a grim visit from Dr. Hughes and the gift of his father’s watch from his mom, Thane is pulled back toward the game by the voice in his head and the growing sense that Arbelon is no longer something he can walk away from.
Chapter 11 - No Safe Roads
The world didn’t fade in—it slammed every sense on max volume.
The pounding rhythm of hooves. The creak of worn leather reins. The sharp sting across his cheek. He was slumped forward, wrists bound tightly to the saddle horn with coarse leather straps that scraped the skin raw. The steady gallop of the horse beneath him rattled his bones, jarring through his spine.
His head throbbed. He tasted blood. A deep gash split his cheek, still oozing from where a Rider’s blade had caught him.
What the hell…? Disoriented, he blinked against the rush of cold air and tree limbs flying past in a blur.
Every sense was screaming—every jolt, every scent of decomposing leaves, every snort of the horse gasping for air, every groan of the leather straps biting into his wrists.
Too real.
He gritted his teeth, trying to orient himself.
“This is insane,” he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse.
He could feel everything. The vibration of the horse’s gait rattling up his legs. The heat of the beast’s body. The smell of its sweat.
None of that should be this detailed. Since when do game physics simulate chafing?
Memories came flooding back—his magic flaring, Riders thrown like rag-dolls, pain screaming in his skull before everything went dark.
Then… this.
Great. Black out, then booted back into hell. Except… this didn’t feel like reloading a save. It felt like waking up inside a nightmare.
Up ahead, Kaelir rode hard, giving clipped, sharp orders over his shoulder. His words were low, meant to blend with the wind and avoid carrying far. At intervals, he made abrupt turns, weaving through denser parts of the forest, clearly trying to foil anyone attempting to track them.
“Where are we even going?” Lirien called out, her voice barely audible over the thunder of hooves.
“No questions,” Kaelir snapped, not looking back. “Just ride.”
Beside Thane, Lirien stayed close, her expression tight with concern but her eyes constantly flicking to the forest around them. Cael rode just behind, stealing glances over his shoulder. Thane could hear him muttering something under his breath, holding his reins in one hand, the other moving and following his words almost rhythmically. With a final flick of his wrist, the air behind them shimmered faintly for a moment—some kind of minor warding spell, barely visible.
“That should buy us a little time,” Cael said grimly.
Erynn rode close to Kaelir, mirroring his every twist and turn with quiet confidence. She didn’t flinch at the terrain, her posture steady, her grip light—just as skilled in the saddle as any of them.
Around them, the trees closed in as they moved deeper—the woods thickening, branches clawing at their cloaks, the river’s murmur growing louder. Moss-covered stones jutted up through the undergrowth, and Thane caught the glimmer of shallow water through the gaps in the brush. The light dimmed, filtering through layers of tangled canopy.
Even injured, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful it was. Like something out of a fantasy map—drawn with reverence, everything put in place with purpose.
Kaelir held his hand up as he slowed to a trot leading his horse into a dense, shadowed thicket tucked against a bend in the river. Trees clustered together, their branches spread like sentinels, shielding the space in quiet shadow. As the others settled into the shadows of the space, he scanned the trail behind them with a practiced eye before swinging down, satisfied for now that they hadn’t been followed.
Lirien swung down and was at Thane’s side in an instant.
“Let’s get you down,” she said quietly, releasing the straps with practiced ease.
Thane half-fell from the saddle, landing in the undergrowth with a grunt. His limbs buckled, stiff and trembling, dirt clinging to every scrape.
“Well, that was graceful,” he muttered, touching the wound on his cheek. His fingers came back red. “Escaped the Riders just to bleed out in a bush. Nice.”
“I don’t think you’re exactly going to bleed out,” Lirien said, flashing him a wry smile as she knelt beside him, hands already steady and sure. “Not with me around. Healer, remember?”
It hit Thane harder than he expected—her smile. The first one he’d seen from her. She wore it well.
He knew he didn’t deserve her grace. But he wasn’t about to push it away either.
Her smile faded, but something softer lingered between them. She reached for her satchel without a word, shifting back into motion—and Thane didn’t stop her.
He sat slumped against a moss-covered stone, jaw clenched as she moved closer. Her expression shifted back to focus—calm, confident, in control. The healer taking over.
She worked in silence at first, uncorking a glass vial of pungent-smelling salve and dabbing it onto a length of cloth. When she leaned in to clean the cut on his cheek, Thane flinched instinctively.
“Hold still,” she said gently, brushing a bit of dried blood from his temple. “You got lucky.”
“Sure doesn’t feel like it.”
Lirien gave a faint exhale—almost a laugh. “Trust me. If that blade had gone even a finger-width deeper, you wouldn’t be talking right now.”
Thane’s brows pulled together, watching her as she dabbed at the wound with slow, steady care. “You’re pretty good at this.”
“Comes with the territory.” She didn’t look up. “My mother was a healer. Learned early.”
As she leaned in again, Thane caught the moonlight glinting off her hair—soft, coppery in the gloom.
The scent of the salve rose again—bitter and earthy. But beneath it, something warm, familiar. For a second, it was his mom’s garden. Then it was gone.
He nodded slowly, but said nothing. He didn’t know what to do with kindness—especially not from someone who should hate him.
As she worked, her fingers brushed his skin, cool and deliberate. Thane found himself cataloguing the sensation, the way it contrasted so sharply with the heat of the chase, the roar of hooves and blood and terror.
A moment of quiet passed between them. The forest murmured nearby, water trickling over rocks.
Lirien paused, glancing up from her work. “It’ll heal,” she said softly.
Thane let out a bitter breath. “I don’t heal.”
Her eyes lingered on his for a moment. “You’re stronger than you think.”
She didn’t say more. Just turned back to her work, hands gentle as she placed a clean bandage on the wound. The silence stretched—not awkward, just heavy with everything unspoken.
Thane broke it first. “You didn’t have to help me.”
Lirien looked at him then—really looked. “Of course I did.”
“No,” he said, voice low. “Not after what happened to Asmenson.”
Her hands paused. For a moment, the silence grew thick again.
“I don’t believe you meant for that to happen,” she said finally. “But it did. And you’re still here. Trying to do something that matters.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t trust his voice to hold.
But when she finished, he didn’t look away either.
“We’ve got to move,” Kaelir called quietly from the trees. “We’re not safe yet.”
Just like that, the moment was over.
The moon was low in the sky, its light filtering through the trees. Thane sat forward, still wincing with every movement, but a little steadier now. The ache in his cheek had dulled to a throb, and the bandage was secure.
Kaelir stood a few paces away, one hand resting lightly on the saddle of his horse, eyes scanning the dense shadows of the tree-line.
“We can’t ride these mounts much longer,” he said without turning. “Too easy to track. And too memorable.”
“They’re the Riders’ horses,” Cael added, stepping into the circle. “They’ll have every sympathizer in the area on the lookout by morning.”
Erynn looked between them. “So we’re ditching the horses?”
“Not yet,” Kaelir said, turning to face them. “We stop in Comstock—a village a day’s ride from here. I know someone. An innkeeper. Keeps to himself, owes me a favor.”
Lirien raised a brow. “Are you talking about the Hog’s Breath?”
Kaelir gave a faint smirk. “Still standing. Still pouring vinegar they call ale. He can make these mounts disappear and point us toward a safer route on foot.”
“That sounds… rustic,” Erynn muttered, brushing a leaf from her shoulder. “I hope your friend remembers that favor.”
“Wouldn’t count on a warm welcome,” Cael added, stretching his back. “But he won’t ask questions. That’s what matters.”
Thane didn’t say anything. He was too tired to care and too amped up to rest.
Kaelir glanced around the circle, his voice low. “Everyone take a breath. We’ve got ground to cover, but we’ll do it smart.”
He nodded toward the dark beyond the clearing. “No open roads from here on. We stick to the trees. Slow, quiet, less likely to draw attention.”
He tightened the saddle straps on his horse, eyes flicking to the edge of the clearing.
“Rest for a few minutes,” he said quietly. “But then we keep moving.”
No one argued. But no one looked thrilled either.
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