Blade & Crimson Magic — Chapter 6: First Signs
Crimson’s POV
The road west of Dunwynn felt wrong the moment they stepped onto it.
Not the kind of wrong Crimson could name—just a heaviness in the air, as if the land itself had been holding tension for days. Even the wind seemed careful, skimming low across the grass instead of stirring it.
Crimson adjusted her hood. Her fingers brushed the edge of her brand without meaning to. She forced her hand down again.
Don’t fidget. Don’t look weak. Not in front of him.
Blade walked ahead with that same steady stride, the sword on his back shifting with each step. But his focus was different now. His eyes kept dropping to the dirt, lingering there, watching patterns and traces she couldn’t see.
She didn’t know what he was reading, but she felt it—the world sharpening around him, bending itself into meaning he understood and she didn’t.
Her heart pressed against her ribs.
He’s hunting now.This is what he looks like when he’s hunting.Try to keep up. Don’t embarrass yourself.
Crimson moved closer.
The First Sign
Blade stopped so abruptly she nearly clipped his shoulder.
A shallow curve in the earth marked the path ahead—like a bowl punched from below. The sight alone sent a tightness through her chest.
“What… is that?” she whispered.
Blade crouched. His silhouette folded into the land, his hand brushing the soil with quiet confidence. He lifted a pinch of earth, letting it crumble through his fingers.
“Burrow.”
Crimson swallowed. “From the monster?”
“Likely.”
He touched the edge of the hollow again, feeling its depth. “Fresh. Hours at most.”
A shiver skittered along her spine.
Hours? Then we’re close. Too close.
She stepped back quickly—then froze, embarrassed by her own reaction.She forced her shoulders straight.
Don’t be a child. Blade isn’t scared. Why are you?…Because you’ve never faced anything like this.
Blade stood. “Stay off the edges. They collapse.”
This time, she obeyed more slowly, trying to hide the way her feet wanted to sprint away from the hollow.
As they walked around it, Crimson caught herself watching him—not just following.
He reads the earth like it’s a map. No—like it’s a memory.What kind of life teaches someone to understand dirt this well?
The thought settled under her ribs, heavy and hot.
Awe.
And something that felt dangerously close to wanting to trust him.
Shaken Fences
They walked until a small farmhouse appeared—its fence half-collapsed, boards splintered inward. An old man hammered at a new post, missing the nail twice and bending it the third time.
His hands were shaking.
Blade veered toward him. Crimson hesitated, unsure whether to follow—then hurried after him, unwilling to be left behind.
The farmer startled when Blade approached.
“Ah—sorry, sir—just trying to fix what that thing ruined.”
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His hammer shook again. The nail bent sideways.
Blade placed a hand on the post, steadying it.
“You’re nailing it crooked,” he said.
“Hands’ve been shakin’ since last night,” the old man muttered.
Blade took the hammer—not snatched, just taken, the way someone would take a tool they were more familiar with—and drove the nail in with two clean strikes. The post straightened instantly.
The farmer blinked hard.
“Thank you.”
Blade was already walking.
“West?”
The man jostled back to awareness.
“Aye. It came from the west. Dragged two goats under. No warning. No sound.”
Crimson’s breath hitched.Dragged under.Silently.
Her throat tightened.
That could’ve been a person. That could’ve been me. That could’ve been—stop. Don’t spiral.
She inhaled slowly, catching up to Blade.
A small, stubborn spark of pride kept her legs from trembling.
How Far West?
The farmland faded, giving way to open field and the rising slope of the ridge. Blade walked without hesitation—straight, efficient, quiet.
Crimson wished she felt even half that steady.
“How far west?” Blade asked suddenly.
The question pierced her thoughts.
“I… don’t know.”
Blade didn’t react.
Crimson’s fingers clenched around her cloak.
“Just somewhere far away from east.. far from people.”
That was the truth—just not the whole truth.
Blade accepted it with the same ease he accepted weather. No prying. No curiosity.
“Then I’ll choose the destination.”
Crimson blinked. “You will?”
“Yes.”
Something warmed in her chest at the simplicity of it. Not affection—no, nothing like that. More like relief. Someone else making a choice she couldn’t make.
Don’t rely on him.But… maybe just this once.
Where He Wants to Go
“Blade,” she said, “what about where you want to go?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It might,” she insisted.
“No.”
She frowned.
“Why not?”
“I’m heading west anyway.”
Crimson nearly stumbled. “You are?”
“Too many people to the east.” His voice stayed flat, practical.
“Too many people means too many problems.”
Crimson couldn’t help it—she laughed. A small, soft, startled sound.
Blade didn’t react in the slightest.
But Crimson found herself smiling beneath her hood.
He says it like it’s obvious. Maybe it is. Maybe people really are the problem.
She sighed quietly, feeling a strange camaraderie settle between them.
A Destination
“So where are we going?” she asked.
“Frontier town past the ridge,” Blade said. “Quiet. Remote.”
A place where people didn’t pry.A place she could breathe.
“It’s far. We’ll take jobs along the way. You okay with that?”
“You’re asking if I’m fine with that?” she said.
“Yes.”
She lifted her chin. “I am.”
Her voice didn’t shake that time.
The Dead Circle
They reached the base of the ridge when Blade slowed again. Crimson followed his gaze to a perfect circle of crushed grass—flattened downward, as if something had erupted violently from beneath.
Crimson’s breath stuttered. “What happened here?”
“Impact,” Blade said. “It surfaced here.”
“Onto what?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“Someone.”
Crimson felt the world tilt. Her stomach tightened painfully.
Don’t freeze.Don’t panic. You can’t afford to panic here.Blade isn’t panicking. Try to be like him. Try.
She stepped back from the circle, fingers digging into her cloak.
“Blade… can we handle this?” The words escaped before she could stop them.
“We,” he echoed.
Heat stung her cheeks. “Yes. I’m here.”
“With magic?” he asked.
Her brand pulsed, humiliatingly warm. “…Not yet.”
“Then watch. Learn. Stay out of range.”
No softness.No pity.
Just instructions.
She nodded. “Alright.”
Don’t embarrass yourself tonight. Please.
The Tremor
As the sun dipped lower, the wind sharpened and the ridge rose like a jagged blade against the sky.
Then—the ground trembled.
A low vibration rolled up through Crimson’s boots, rattling her bones.
She froze. “Blade—?”
“I felt it.”
The earth went still. Too still.
Crimson hugged her cloak tighter, breath caught in her throat.
That wasn’t the wind. That wasn’t anything natural.It’s real. It’s close. And we are actually going to face it.Blade isn’t scared. So don’t be scared. Just… don’t be useless.
Blade’s hand settled lightly on his sword as he scanned the slope.
“It’ll surface tonight.”
Crimson swallowed hard, nodding even as fear clawed at her ribs.
“Where do we camp?” she asked.
“High ground,” Blade said. “Stable earth.”
He climbed the ridge without looking back.
Crimson followed, her steps careful but steady, her heart pounding a fierce rhythm against her pride.
Night waited ahead.
And beneath the earth, something else waited too.
