Splintered Paths

The storm had scattered the caravan like dry leaves, wagons overturned and half-buried under rockfall and wind-driven debris. Supplies were strewn across the ground in chaotic constellations. Kael Thornvale stood at the edge of the wreckage, his coat torn, grit caking his skin, eyes scanning the scattered survivors. Small knots of people huddled behind tipped wagons, hands gripping canvas or each other, their breaths ragged, their fear naked in the open.

The storm’s voice never relented—moaning, howling, shrieking through the jagged rock like something alive. Every gust brought new debris skittering past Kael’s boots.

Mara approached from the side, panting, her face streaked with grime and her mechanical arm twitching faint sparks from overuse. Her hair was half-frozen to her cheek. “We salvaged what we could,” she said, voice clipped. “But it’s not enough. If we stay out here, we’ll be corpses before morning.”

Kael nodded, jaw tight. His brain worked through the options like weights on a balance beam. They couldn’t stay. They couldn’t move as one. The math never favored the whole.

He hated the answer. But he spoke it anyway.

“We split. Three groups. Small and fast has a better chance.”

Mara’s eyes narrowed. “And what if we lose each other in the storm?”

“We’re already lost,” he said, meeting her gaze. “This gives us a sliver. Sitting still gives us a grave.”

She looked away for a second, then back. “Then let’s do it.”

Kael turned to the caravaners, raising his voice above the scream of the wind. “Arden stays with the main group. Protect what’s left. Mara, take the rear. Keep to the whisper roads.”

“And you?” she asked, more sharply than before.

“I scout. I find us shelter.” He hesitated. “Signal if I can.”

Mara’s jaw tensed, but she gave a nod. “Always do.”

Kael selected his team—two traders, a scout, and Iven, who insisted on coming despite the lines of exhaustion carved deep into his face. Together, they vanished into the storm’s open throat.

—–

The terrain changed beneath their feet—solid ground giving way to shattered ridges, cracked rock, and patches of ice. Wind lashed at them like claws, cutting through their cloaks and clothes with teeth of ice. Every step forward was a battle against the elements and the fear crawling up from their guts.

Kael’s skin prickled. The storm pressed against him like a living wall. Not just cold—aware. Testing.

“Kael\!” Iven shouted over the wind. He pointed.

Through the swirl of dust and frost, a shape resolved from the shadows—a figure wrapped in layered cloth that shimmered faintly, catching what little light filtered through the storm. She didn’t move, not at first. Her posture was loose, but coiled. Ready.

Kael raised a hand. “Hold. We don’t want trouble.”

The figure tilted her head. Her voice was smooth, measured, weathered. “Then you’re smarter than most.”

“Who are you?”

“Saryna Elunari,” she replied. “And you’re a long way from safety, caravan leader.”

Kael stiffened. Her tone wasn’t deferent—it was knowing. That irritated him more than he liked. He didn’t care for the idea that this stranger had heard of him.

“You know who I am?”

“Enough. But reputation won’t shield you from this storm.”

Her glowing eyes scanned his group, calculating. He didn’t like the look—but he needed what she might offer.

“We’re looking for shelter. Know any place?”

Her mouth curved slightly. “There’s a geothermal cavern nearby. Warm. Deep. Dry enough to keep you alive—if you can get there.”

Kael narrowed his eyes. “What’s the catch?”

Mara stepped beside him, ready, her mechanical arm humming low with energy.

Saryna raised a brow. “Smart one. The catch is simple—I get you there, you give me cargo. Food. Tools. Whatever those broken crystals were.”

Kael’s teeth clenched. Supplies were already a breath from critical. He glanced back at his team. Iven’s coat was ripped open at the shoulder, the scout limping slightly. They were running on fumes. But handing over gear they might not replace?

“Really,” Saryna said, her voice sharpening. “You’re haggling? In this storm?”

A boulder clattered nearby, loosed by the wind, crashing just meters from them in a spray of rock shards and snow. One trader cried out and ducked. Kael flinched. He hated the truth of it.

“Fine,” he growled. “We’ll share. But if you cross us—”

“I won’t,” she said, already turning. “Not while you’re useful.”

She strode ahead, carving through the chaos like she belonged to it. Her steps were confident, sure-footed even on shifting terrain.

Kael signaled the others to move. As they followed her into the storm’s teeth, he couldn’t shake the unease in his gut.

They’d traded danger for direction. But Saryna Elunari was no savior.

And he doubted she ever offered anything cheap.

—–

The storm howled like a thing alive, its shriek bouncing off stone as razor-edged gusts flung icy needles across the broken landscape. The wind numbed fingers, stripped breath from lungs, and scoured every inch of exposed skin. The ground was treacherous—jagged rocks jutted from the dark earth, and loose gravel shifted beneath every uncertain step. Above, the twilight dimmed further as shadows thickened, the group pushing closer to the nightward edge.

Saryna Elunari led the way, her bioluminescent mantle flickering weakly, throwing pools of green-blue light that twisted with every movement. She paused often, tilting her head slightly, as if listening to a whisper only she could hear. Each time, she issued a brisk command—left, right, slow—her voice strained but still steady.

Kael pressed up behind her, close enough now to catch the raggedness in her breathing. “How much farther?” he asked, the words half-swallowed by the wind.

“Far enough,” she replied, not looking back.

“That’s not an answer.”

She turned briefly, her glowing eyes narrow. “It’s the only one you’re getting. Unless you want to take the lead, hero.”

Kael fell silent. He wasn’t sure if her tone stung more than the wind—but it worked.

Then the air shifted. A low, piercing whine rolled across the rocks like a blade dragged across stone. Kael’s stomach dropped. The group froze. Breath steamed in the air.

“What… is that?” Iven rasped, white-knuckled around the shaft of his crowbar.

Saryna’s face darkened. “Wind serpents.”

The name hit like a curse.

Kael had heard of them. He’d never seen one—not up close. Predators that rode the storm like vultures, all speed and hunger and whisper-slick wings. The sound grew—a discordant chorus that scraped against the bone.

“Close ranks,” Saryna ordered, sharp and fast. She raised one trembling hand, and shadows stirred. The air around her warped, as though something unseen peeled the light away. Darkness bled out from her boots, coiling and rising.

“What are you doing?” Kael asked.

“Keeping you alive,” she snapped, beads of sweat already clinging to her brow despite the biting cold. Her voice trembled now, barely holding shape. “Shadow-walking. Stay close. Stay quiet. Move only when I move.”

The group fell into step behind her, half-blinded in the swirling dark. Her cloak of shadow muffled the world—the wind, the shrieks of the serpents, even their own ragged breathing. Kael felt the creatures circling, just beyond perception, their presence a weight on the air.

Saryna stumbled. Just a hitch in her step, but Kael caught it. Her nose had begun to bleed.

He kept it to himself—for now.

Then the earth betrayed them.

A loose boulder clattered down a slope nearby, and Iven’s foot slid out from under him. He crashed to the ground with a sickening thud, loud and sudden.

“Oh, for—” Saryna hissed through her teeth.

The shadows flickered.

A shriek tore through the night. A wind serpent descended, impossibly fast—a blur of undulating motion. Its body was slick and scaled, but not just black—dark blue streaked with molten silver, like lightning trapped in flesh. It reeked of scorched metal and ozone. Its wings didn’t flap—they snapped.

Kael moved without thinking. Blade out, he slashed upward, catching the serpent just above the wing joint. Sparks flew. The thing screamed in fury, careening off a rock and vanishing into the storm.

“Move\!” Saryna barked, her voice hoarse. The shadows thickened once more, but not as strong—less controlled.

Kael hauled Iven upright. The group stumbled forward, more of a scramble than a march. Another serpent shrieked overhead. Mara shoved a trader aside as a forked tail lashed down, missing by inches.

Saryna’s pace slowed. Her hands trembled. Blood streaked her upper lip now.

“We’re close,” she gasped. “Just—keep moving—”

Kael moved beside her, steadying her with a hand. “You’re burning out.”

She glared at him, her defiance dulled by exhaustion. “We make it. Or we don’t.”

Another serpent swooped. Iven hurled a rock with surprising force, cracking it across the snout. The creature screeched and veered off.

Then—a break in the storm.

Ahead, a jagged fissure yawned in the stone, warm air leaking from its mouth like breath from a sleeping beast. It glowed faintly, inviting and ominous all at once.

“There\!” Saryna cried, staggering. “Go\!”

They ran. Stumbled. Slipped. A serpent lunged—Kael saw it, spinning toward Mara—but she twisted low and drove her mechanical fist into the ground, kicking a burst of dust that sent the beast flailing off-course.

One by one, the group reached the cave mouth and fell inside, dragged by desperation. Kael brought up the rear, sword ready, as Saryna collapsed just inside the threshold. The shadow cloak unraveled into smoke and was gone.

Outside, the serpents screamed in frustration. But none crossed the boundary.

Kael dropped beside the wall, lungs burning, every muscle screaming. He looked to Saryna.

She gave him a faint, crooked smile. “Told you,” she whispered, eyes already fluttering shut. “Now let’s hope this place doesn’t bite too.”

—–

The cavern pulsed with dim light—veins of bioluminescent moss wove across the walls in hues of green and gold. The air was warm compared to the storm’s claws outside, but the warmth felt tenuous, borrowed. Kael Thornvale led his battered crew a few cautious steps into the chamber before a sharp voice cracked through the air.

“That’s far enough.”

Kael froze, his hand instinctively drifting to the hilt at his belt.

From the shadows near the back wall, figures emerged—half a dozen, armed and hunched, weapons raised with grim intent. Their leader stepped forward: a broad-chested man with a heavy beard and storm-worn gear. His stance was rooted and commanding, but there was fatigue in the slump of his shoulders.

“I don’t want trouble,” Kael said, keeping his voice calm. “We’re seeking shelter.”

The man hefted a scarred club. “Name’s Taron Deylin. And this”—he gestured to the cavern—“belongs to us.”

Behind Kael, Saryna Elunari let out a ragged laugh, half amusement, half exhaustion. “Yours? Did you sign the deed before or after crawling in to lick your wounds?”

Taron’s grip on the club tightened. “Watch your mouth, grubber. You’ve got no idea what it took to get here.”

Kael stepped between them, lifting a hand. “Easy. We’re not here to fight. There’s room for both.”

“Room?” Taron scoffed, but his eyes flicked to his people. They were gaunt, hollow-eyed. One sat hunched beside a cache of split firewood and wrapped canvas—an obvious stash of supplies tucked behind makeshift barricades. “Maybe. But we’re low on rations, low on fuel. And I’m not feeding another caravan just because yours couldn’t plan ahead.”

Kael’s eyes swept across his own crew. Iven leaned against the rock wall, face pale, lips cracked. Mara knelt beside Saryna, adjusting the wires on her flickering prosthetic. None of them could withstand a fight—not now.

“We’re not asking for food,” Kael said evenly. “Just a corner and a fire. Until the storm lifts.”

Taron didn’t answer right away. A tall woman stepped up beside him, her face carved with wind scars, a deep gouge splitting her lip—*Ketta*, Kael guessed from the way she moved like his second.

“They’ll drain us,” Ketta said, low and hard. “We’ve kept this place sealed. And now you bring the storm in behind you.”

Kael met her stare. “Push us back out there and we die. That storm doesn’t care who it kills. And if we do die,”—his voice dropped—“we won’t be polite about it.”

Silence coiled through the air, thick as the damp walls. The wind howled at the cave mouth, as if eager to swallow any hesitation.

Ketta opened her mouth to speak again, but Taron lifted a hand.

He studied Kael. Really studied him this time.

Something shifted.

“You got wounded?” he asked suddenly, nodding at Iven.

Kael blinked, caught off guard. “Exhausted. Half-frozen. But alive.”

Taron’s jaw worked for a moment. Then, with a grunt that sounded more tired than angry, he lowered his club. “You stay to your side of the chamber. You don’t touch our stores. You don’t talk to my people unless spoken to.”

Kael nodded. “Done.”

He motioned for his crew to move. They trudged to the far end, careful not to brush close to Taron’s stash. As they dropped their packs and slumped down near the moss-lit wall, Mara exhaled through clenched teeth.

“Well,” she muttered, “that went better than getting stabbed.”

“Better than it could’ve,” Kael replied, though his gaze lingered on the rival group. They were starved, haunted. He didn’t blame them. But he didn’t trust them either.

Saryna leaned against the stone, her skin pale beneath the fading glow of her mantle. “Cosy little cave,” she said dryly. “Think we should all hold hands, maybe sing?”

“Not helping,” Kael muttered.

She gave a tired shrug and fell silent, her glowing eyes flicking back to Taron and Ketta like a cat watching rival predators from across the fire.

—–

Time passed.

The storm outside raged louder, becoming a kind of rhythm: shrieking gusts, then a lull, then another shriek. The cavern’s warmth couldn’t melt the tension. Every shuffle of boots drew wary glances. Every cough made hands twitch near weapons.

Kael sat near a modest fire of scavenged tinder, staring into the flicker. The glow played across Mara’s face as she sat sharpening her blade with slow, deliberate strokes.

“We’ve faced worse,” she said softly.

Kael didn’t answer right away. Then: “We’ve faced worse—but not like this. Not with people watching us like wolves.”

Across the chamber, Taron’s group murmured around their own fire. Taron sat with his back to the wall, arms crossed, listening to Ketta speak low in his ear. Kael didn’t need to hear the words. The body language was enough.

“We survive,” Kael said finally, eyes still on the fire.

Saryna raised an eyebrow. “That your whole plan?”

“Right now,” he said, “that’s the only one that matters.”

There was nothing more to say.

Outside, the storm screamed on.

Inside, a colder storm waited—born not of wind or ice, but hunger, pride, and desperation.

And Kael knew which would break first.

—–