Chapter 7 Seven

The Fae hunter's words hung in the crisp mountain air, a delicate blend of curiosity and veiled challenge. A human witch. He had no idea how wrong he was, or how dangerously close he'd come to the truth. The coin in my pocket felt like a burning secret.

I kept my face a careful mask, the one I used when dealing with difficult clients at work. "I prefer tea, actually," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "And I'm full of surprises."

His grim smile widened a fraction. He gestured with his chin towards the thrashing Grim-tusk, its enraged squeals echoing off the stone. "A fact for which I am currently grateful. That mud pit was… impressively timed."

"It seemed like the thing to do," I replied, my gaze flicking from him to the trapped beast and back. I wasn't about to explain the source of my power. Let him think I was a witch. It was a better cover than 'accidental dragon owner.'

He took a cautious step closer, his movements still fluid, still ready for a fight. "I am Theron of the Silverwood Clan. And you are?"

"Lena." I gave him nothing more. Names had power, especially in the stories Elara loved. In this world, it was probably a literal truth.

"Lena," he repeated, as if tasting the word. "You are a long way from any human settlement. And your attire…" His eyes scanned Kaelen's leathers on my frame. "…suggests you did not come here for a pleasant hike."

"I'm lost," I said, which was the truest thing I'd said so far.

"That is an understatement." Theron finally slung his bow back over his shoulder, a deliberate gesture of de-escalation. "The nearest human city is a week's hard travel east. You are deep in the contested territories. Not a place for your kind." He paused, his sharp eyes studying me. "Unless you are running from something."

The directness of his statement caught me off guard. I could lie, but I had a feeling he would see right through it. My options were limited. I was alone, in a hostile wilderness, with a pocketful of magic I barely understood and a dragon to rescue. I needed an ally, or at the very least, a guide. And this Fae, for the moment, didn't seem immediately hostile.

"Something like that," I admitted, letting a sliver of genuine weariness seep into my voice.

He nodded slowly, as if my confirmation fit a puzzle he was assembling. "The Syndicate has been unusually active in these mountains. Their enforcers move like shadows, asking questions. Looking for someone." His gaze was a physical weight. "They are not known for their patience or their mercy."

The Syndicate. The name was a key turning in a lock of dread in my stomach. So, they were already here, scouring the countryside. They weren't just waiting for me to stumble out of a cave.

"I need to find someone," I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could second-guess them. "He was… taken. By them."

Theron's expression shifted from curiosity to something more calculating. "You wish to rescue someone from the Onyx Syndicate?" He let out a low, breathy laugh that held no humor. "That is not a rescue mission, witch. That is a suicide pact."

"His name is Kaelen," I pressed, ignoring his pessimism. "He's a dragon."

The air around us went still. The chittering of unseen creatures in the forest ceased. Theron's casual posture vanished, replaced by a rigid alertness. All traces of the grim amusement were gone from his face.

"Kaelen Drakon," he breathed, the name a reverent whisper. "The stories say he fell. That Silas Vane finally managed to clip the dragon's wings." His eyes narrowed, searching my face with a new, intense focus. "And you… you were with him?"

"I was," I said, holding his gaze. I couldn't tell him the whole, humiliating, terrifying truth. But I could give him enough. "We were separated when the Syndicate attacked. I need to find him."

Theron was silent for a long moment, his gaze turning inward. "The Silverwood Clan has no love for Silas Vane. His greed poisons the land. A dragon's fire…" He looked back at me, a decision hardening in his eyes. "A dragon's fire could burn that poison away. But the Syndicate will have taken him to their stronghold. It is a fortress, warded against scrying and assault. You cannot simply walk in."

"I don't plan to walk," I said, the coin warm against my skin, a reminder of the power I had barely tapped. "I plan to be unexpected."

A sharp, high-pitched whine cut through the air. We both turned. The Grim-tusk had finally wrenched one of its front legs free from the hardening mud. With a furious bellow, it began to drag its other leg out, its coal-red eyes fixed on us with renewed hatred.

Theron's hand went back to his bow. "Our conversation must continue elsewhere. That mud won't hold him much longer."

He gestured for me to follow him, turning to lead the way down a different, almost invisible path that skirted the clearing. As I fell into step behind him, my mind raced. I had an ally. A tentative, calculating one, but an ally nonetheless. He knew the land, he knew the enemy, and he saw value in Kaelen.

But as we moved swiftly and silently through the dense pines, a new thought occurred to me, cold and slithering. Theron had been in the right place at the exact right time. He knew the Syndicate was looking for someone. He had accepted my story with surprising speed.

What were the odds?

I watched the back of his head, the easy, confident way he moved through the treacherous terrain. He had called me a witch, but he hadn't seemed surprised by the magic. He had been curious.

Too curious.

The coin in my pocket suddenly felt less like a weapon and more like a target. Had I just escaped one trap, only to willingly walk into another?