As the caravan trundled deeper into the tunnels, Zeveron sidled up to Kael, his brow furrowed in curiosity. “So,” the dwarf began, breaking the silence that had hung over them since the checkpoint, “what was that hand trick you pulled back there? Some kind of magic?”

  Kael glanced at him, his crimson eyes briefly catching the dim glow of the lanterns hanging from the wagons. “You could call it that,” he said, his tone nonchalant.

  Zeveron huffed. “Don’t be coy, lad. That guard looked like he’d forgotten his own name. What did you do to him?”

  Kael’s gaze shifted forward, scanning the endless expanse of stone ahead of them. The repetitive markings and faint echoes made it hard to focus on any one thing, as though the Deep Roads themselves were trying to wear down their resolve. He finally spoke, his voice low.

  “It’s called Mindra,” he said. “One of the basic combat spells all Ashen are trained to use.”

  “Mindra,” Zeveron repeated, tasting the word like it might bite back. “And what does it do, exactly?”

  Kael flexed his fingers absently as though recalling the motion. “It’s a spell designed to manipulate the mind of the weak-willed or those who are emotionally unbalanced. It distorts their thoughts, plants suggestions. For a short time, the caster can convince them of almost anything.”

  Zeveron’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of awe and unease flickering across his face. “Almost anything, you say?”

  Kael nodded. “But it’s not foolproof. Strong-willed individuals or those with mental discipline can resist it. And the effect is temporary—a matter of minutes, at most. Once the spell fades, they’re left disoriented but no worse for wear. If they figure out what’s happened…” He trailed off, letting the implication hang.

  “...Not exactly a tool for making friends,” Zeveron muttered.

  Kael allowed himself a small smirk. “It’s not meant to be. It’s a tool for survival for keeping situations like that from spiraling out of control.”

  The dwarf stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Aye, I can see that. Still, it’s unsettling, the idea of having your mind twisted without even realizing it. Makes me wonder how many times it’s happened to me without me knowing.”

  “Probably more often than you think,” Kael said, his tone dark but not unkind. “Magic like Mindra has been around for centuries. The only difference is that Ashen are trained to use it sparingly—only when absolutely necessary.”

  Zeveron tilted his head, considering this. “And you don’t worry about… I dunno, abusing it? Getting too comfortable with bending people to your will?”

  Kael’s gaze hardened, his voice turning cold. “The Ashen are taught discipline above all else. We know the cost of power like this. Abuse it, and it will consume you. I’ve seen it happen to others.”

  The dwarf was silent for a moment, then let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll give you this, Kael: you’re full of surprises. First, you’re a walking weapon, and now you’ve got magic tricks too. Makes me glad you’re on my side.”

  Kael didn’t respond, his focus already drifting back to the path ahead. The Deep Roads seemed to stretch on forever, the shadows at the edges of the lantern light pressing closer with every step.

  Zeveron, sensing the conversation was over, fell back to check on the wagons.

  As the caravan pressed onward through the labyrinthine tunnels, the clatter of wagon wheels and the faint echo of their footsteps filled the oppressive silence. Kael walked a few paces ahead of the group, his sharp eyes scanning the endless expanse of stone for any signs of danger. The monotony of the journey was broken when he heard light footsteps approaching from behind.

  “Mind if I join you?” came Gazelle’s voice, soft yet carrying a hint of curiosity.

  Kael glanced over his shoulder, nodding briefly. “Suit yourself.”

  Gazelle fell into step beside him, her golden eyes catching the dim lantern light with an almost feline glow. For a moment, she said nothing, simply walking in silence as if gauging the right moment to speak. Finally, she broke the quiet.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” she said, a small smile playing on her lips.

  Kael’s expression didn’t change. “Not much to say.”

  “That’s funny,” Gazelle said, her tone teasing. “I’ve found that the quiet ones usually have the most interesting stories.”

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  Kael gave her a sidelong glance, his crimson eyes flickering with mild amusement. “And you think I’m interesting?”

  “More like mysterious,” she admitted, brushing a stray strand of brown hair from her face. “Zeveron told us a bit about you. Said you were one of the Ashen. That true?”

  “It is,” Kael replied simply, his voice even.

  “I’ve never met one before,” she continued, her tone softening. “Only heard the stories. They say Ashen are unstoppable soldiers, half-human, half-magic. That true too?”

  Kael’s jaw tightened ever so slightly. “We’re human. Just... enhanced. The magic is part of us, not separate. But unstoppable?” He let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “That’s just a story they tell to scare people.”

  Gazelle studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing. “You don’t seem proud of it.”

  Kael shrugged. “Pride doesn’t come into it. The Ashen are tools. Weapons forged for war. What’s there to be proud of?”

  Gazelle frowned, her golden eyes searching his face. “That sounds... lonely.”

  Kael’s expression hardened, and he glanced away. “Loneliness is part of the job.”

  For a moment, the only sound between them was the rhythmic clinking of the caravan’s wheels.

  “Well,” Gazelle said finally, her voice gentle, “if it’s any consolation, you don’t seem like just a weapon to me. You’ve got a sharp mind, not just sharp edges.”

  Kael glanced at her, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. “That’s... kind of you to say.”

  Gazelle smiled again, brighter this time. “Don’t mention it. Someone’s gotta keep things interesting around here.”

  As they continued walking, Gazelle shifted the conversation to lighter topics—stories of her travels, amusing encounters with clients, and her aspirations of becoming a successful merchant like Zeveron. Kael listened quietly, occasionally offering a nod or a brief comment, but he found her presence oddly comforting.

  For the first time since they’d set out, the oppressive weight of the Deep Roads seemed to lift ever so slightly.

  As Gazelle continued chatting, her voice filling the void of the endless tunnels, Kael’s attention subtly shifted. His enhanced senses had picked up something—a faint but distinct sound cutting through the ambient noise.

  It was a sound he knew all too well.

  The creak of a bowstring being drawn back.

  His crimson eyes narrowed, the chatter around him fading into the background as his heightened hearing focused on the source. Then it came: the sharp *twang* of a bowstring releasing and the unmistakable *whizz* of an arrow slicing through the air, its trajectory aimed for the back of Gazelle’s head.

  There was no time to think.

  Kael’s body reacted on pure instinct, muscle memory honed through years of brutal training. In a single fluid motion, his hand darted to the short sword at his waist. The blade was free before the others even realized what was happening.

  The arrow was mere inches from Gazelle’s golden eyes when Kael’s blade intercepted it. The metallic *clang* of steel meeting wood and metal echoed through the tunnel as the arrow splintered mid-flight, harmless fragments scattering across the stone floor.

  The sudden action left the group stunned, their eyes wide with shock and confusion. Gazelle froze, her words caught in her throat as she slowly turned to Kael.

  “What—” she began, but Kael cut her off.

  “Get behind the wagons,” he said sharply, his voice cold and commanding.

  Zeveron, and Gazelle scrambled to obey, the urgency in Kael’s tone leaving no room for argument.

  Kael’s eyes scanned the darkness ahead, his sword at the ready. His enhanced senses extended outward, picking up subtle sounds: the faint shuffle of footsteps, the whisper of fabric brushing against stone.

  “We’re not alone,” he muttered, his voice low but carrying an edge of menace.

  “Ambush?” Zeveron hissed from behind the wagons.

  Kael nodded. “Archers. At least one. Maybe more. Stay down.”

  Gazelle crouched low behind the wagon, her face pale. “I didn’t even hear it…”

  “You wouldn’t,” Kael replied grimly, his eyes never leaving the shadowed expanse of the tunnel.

  A faint glimmer caught his eye—movement in the distance, just beyond the reach of their lantern light. Another arrow was loosed, its deadly tip glinting in the dim glow.

  Kael sidestepped effortlessly, the projectile missing him by a hair’s breadth.

  The attackers stepped fully into the light, revealing their twisted forms.

  “Goblins,” Kael muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. Without hesitation, he launched forward, his movements a blur.

  Another arrow flew toward him, its speed deadly, but Kael’s blade found it midair, splintering it with a sharp *clang.* He was upon the creatures in the next heartbeat, his short sword cleaving through flesh and bone with brutal efficiency. Goblin cries of pain and anger echoed through the tunnel as their numbers began to dwindle.

  The mercenaries weren’t far behind. With roars of battle fury, they charged into the fray, axes and swords carving through the chaotic swarm of goblins. The clamor of combat filled the air—steel meeting steel, the guttural cries of goblins, and the grunts of dwarven warriors locked in the deadly rhythm of battle.

  Kael moved like a force of nature, his enhanced reflexes and speed leaving the goblins little chance to retaliate. His blade arced downward, splitting a goblin’s torso in two, before he spun and plunged the blade into another’s chest. Their feeble weapons clanged harmlessly off his armor, their desperation palpable as they fell under his relentless assault.

  Suddenly, a guttural roar tore through the chaos, louder and deeper than the others. A hulking figure stepped into the light—a Hobgoblin.

  The red-skinned brute towered over the goblins, its muscular frame rippling as it charged Kael with a spiked club raised high. Its feral eyes gleamed with malice, and its roar reverberated through the tunnel.

  Kael barely had time to sidestep as the spiked club came crashing down, the impact sending cracks through the stone floor. The Hobgoblin was twice as large and far stronger than its smaller kin, but Kael didn’t flinch.

  The creature snarled, swinging its weapon in a wide arc. Kael ducked low, the spiked club missing him by inches. As the Hobgoblin prepared another swing, Kael moved with blinding speed, stepping inside its reach and grabbing the club with his free hand.

  The Hobgoblin froze, its snarling expression replaced with shock as Kael held its weapon effortlessly. Its strength, which had terrified lesser creatures, meant nothing against the Ashen’s enhanced might.

  “Too slow,” Kael said coldly.

  With a quick motion, he twisted the club out of the Hobgoblin’s grip and drove the tip of his blade into its throat. The monster gurgled, clutching at the wound as Kael ripped his sword free. The Hobgoblin collapsed in a heap, its lifeblood pooling on the floor.

  The remaining goblins, seeing their leader fall, panicked and tried to flee, but the mercenaries cut them down with ruthless efficiency.

  Within minutes, the ambush was over. The tunnel fell silent save for the labored breathing of the dwarves and the faint drip of blood onto the stone. Kael stood amidst the carnage, his expression unreadable. He knelt, wiping his blade clean with a scrap of goblin cloth, the blood smearing into the tattered rags.

  Zeveron approached, his face flushed with excitement. He clapped his hands together and chuckled, smacking a fist into his palm. “Kael, lad, that was *magnificent!* You carved through them like a scythe through wheat!”

  Kael sheathed his sword, his crimson eyes briefly meeting Zeveron’s. “They weren’t much of a challenge,” he replied flatly.

  Zeveron laughed heartily. “Modest, too. A rare trait these days!”

  Behind him, Gazelle sat slumped against the wagon, her face pale. Her golden eyes were wide with lingering terror, her hands shaking slightly as she stared at the bodies littering the ground.

  Kael walked over to her, his boots crunching on splintered arrows and broken weapons. “You all right?” he asked, his tone softer than usual.

  Gazelle blinked up at him, her breath uneven. “I… I didn’t even see it coming. That arrow… I would’ve—”

  “But you didn’t,” Kael interrupted, his voice calm and steady. “You’re alive. Focus on that.”

  She swallowed hard, nodding slowly. “I’ve never… I mean, I’ve read about battles, but seeing it… being in it…”

  “It’s not for everyone,” Kael said, his tone matter-of-fact. “But if you’re going to make it out here, you need to learn to keep your head.”

  Gazelle nodded again, her hands slowly balling into fists. “I’ll try.”

  Kael studied her for a moment, then extended a hand to help her up. “Good. Because this was just a warm-up, before this is over, we will face fare worse than Goblins.”