A Villain’s Shadow

Sleep did not come easily.

Not because of pain, though my shoulder throbbed with every breath. Not because of fear, though the moans of the wounded kept echoing through the trees. It was because of the silence in the sky. For hours, the crimson script had not returned. As if it was watching. Waiting.

I knew better than to think it had gone.

Across the dying campfire, Kaelion slept with one hand resting on his sword pommel. Even in slumber, his brow was drawn tight. He had not asked me any more questions that night. But I could feel it. A shift. I was no longer a tool to him. I had become a question mark.

I leaned against the stone pillar of the ruined shrine and whispered to myself, “If he changes, then the war ends differently.”

But even that thought felt naïve. If Kaelion had started seeing the red script before I arrived, then the Scriptum might have already lost its grip on him. Worse, it might be adapting.

From my satchel, I pulled out a torn page of parchment. Blank.

In the original story, these ruins were where the Oracle’s Eye first appeared—a floating red crystal that delivered fate-altering revelations. That would come three chapters from now. Unless the timeline had already advanced on its own.

I closed my eyes.

And then I felt it.

Heat on the back of my neck. A chill at the base of my spine. The sensation of breathless tension, like standing at the edge of a cliff with no wind.

When I opened my eyes again, the sky was no longer empty.

“Riven Ilhart has diverged from the ordained path. Minor anomaly detected.”

“Initiating Correctional Vector: Sera of Thorns.”

My heart sank.

I remembered her. An assassin from the fourth chapter. Slipped through the royal guard with ease. Killed Kaelion with a poisoned blade during a treaty negotiation.

If she was being summoned now, that meant the Scriptum was trying to restore the timeline early.

I shot to my feet.

Kaelion stirred, eyes blinking open, sword half-drawn. “What is it?”

“We’re being corrected,” I said. “Tonight.”

That was all I needed to say.

***

We moved fast.

Kaelion didn’t ask how I knew. He just trusted it, the way a wolf trusts the scent of fire on the wind. He grabbed a torch, I followed with my sword, and together we pushed into the forest away from camp.

The moon was heavy above us. Every branch seemed too still. Too silent. Then—

A whisper.

Not a sound, but a sensation. The whisper of a blade drawn without air. I turned just in time to parry a flash of steel aimed at Kaelion’s throat.

The clash rang like bells in the night.

“Impressive,” came a voice from the shadows. “He was not meant to have protection tonight.”

A woman stepped into the clearing. Slender. Cloaked. Eyes silver like moonlight on steel. Her dagger was curved, poison-green, and her presence made the leaves tremble.

Sera of Thorns.

Kaelion narrowed his eyes. “Who sent you?”

“I do not answer prey,” she replied.

Her blade flashed.

We fought as one.

***

Sera was fast. Unnaturally so. She danced between us, her footsteps barely touching the earth. My sword was too slow to catch her, and Kaelion’s strikes, while deadly, were forced on the defensive. She knew exactly where to press—exactly when to vanish.

Script-guided. That was the only explanation. The Scriptum had empowered her to succeed.

I had to break her rhythm.

“Kaelion, left!” I shouted, pretending to swing where I knew she would dodge.

He caught the feint, pivoted low, and knocked her blade away. She hissed and backflipped out of reach.

“How does a squire fight like that?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

I took a slow breath. “Because I’ve read this story.”

She paused.

“Liar.”

But her voice faltered.

I stepped forward. “The campfire. The ruins. The blood in your boots. You come from the east trail, where you killed a scout an hour ago. He has a wife in Grenmere and a child due in winter. You don’t remember that, do you?”

She blinked.

For the briefest moment, her stance loosened.

Kaelion seized the moment. His sword flashed, catching her shoulder.

She shrieked and dropped to one knee. But instead of finishing her, Kaelion lowered his weapon.

“You came to kill me,” he said. “And yet you hesitate.”

She spat blood. “This is not how it’s meant to go.”

Kaelion looked at me.

“The red script again,” he muttered.

I knelt beside her. “You’re not a villain. Not yet. You can choose something else.”

She looked up at me with wide, furious eyes.

“I have no choice.”

“Then make one,” I said.

She didn’t reply.

But she didn’t strike again either.

***

We returned to camp before dawn, Sera’s hands bound but her wounds treated. The soldiers murmured, wary of Kaelion’s decision to keep her alive.

“She was sent by the gods,” one of them whispered. “You saw the sky.”

Kaelion silenced them with a glance.

In his tent, I stood beside the map table, staring at a line of red ink that traced enemy movement. Kaelion entered and sat, pouring himself a measure of dark wine.

“She will betray us,” he said simply.

“Maybe.”

“You took a risk.”

“She was a tool,” I said. “Not a person. But now she has doubts. And doubt can kill fate.”

He drank in silence.

Then, he said, “You believe you can change the story.”

“I have to.”

“Then tell me,” he said. “What comes next?”

I hesitated.

If I told him too much, the Scriptum might retaliate harder. But if I said nothing, we would walk into its hands blind.

“A city,” I said at last. “One ruled by prophecy. A place where the script is worshipped like a god.”

Kaelion smiled faintly.

“Then let us go break their god.”