I stepped past the others and found a spot at the edge of the campfire's glow. The night pressed in—stale with smoke, heavy with unsaid things. The flames crackled between us, but offered no warmth to ease the tension.
Zakir was the first to stir. He settled back down, pulled his blade free, and began sharpening it with calm, steady strokes. Each scrape of steel on stone sounded too loud in the quiet. One by one, the rest drifted back to their places around the fire, shadows folding into darkness. Only Sylva remained opposite me, her posture rigid, eyes cold and unblinking beneath that curtain of lashes.
They were watching. Waiting for me to slip. Not that I blamed them. If I had been in their shoes—betrayed, left for dead—I'd expect the same.
Zakir rose and closed the distance between us. He tested the blade's edge with a soft rasp. "You've been awfully quiet."
Sylva's voice cut in, sharper than the whetstone. "You'd think after everything, you'd have something to say."
Their stares burned hot enough to sear. I shifted my weight, letting my gaze drift to the dancing flames, then back to Zakir. "Doesn't seem like anyone's eager for a fight," I said, voice low.
Zakir's shoulders tensed. "That's because we're in camp. You know the rules—no killing here."
I let the silence stretch. Then: "Why sit so neatly, each in your own corner? No tussles, no backstabs." I met Sylva's stare. "I figured there must be a reason. Thought I'd test my theory."
Her lip twitching, Sylva's eyes flickered to the others. She swallowed, but said nothing.
I leaned forward. "Tell me, Sylva—what do you want me to say?"
Her breath caught. Just a tick, but enough. She didn't answer.
Because the man they'd betrayed wouldn't bother with words. He'd have struck first, asked questions later.
Zakir lay back against his pack. "Easy, White Demon. If you really want blood, save it for tomorrow. No one dies tonight."
I sat up, annoyance flaring. "White Demon? Come on. Why not call me by my real name?"
He glanced at me, then at Sylva. "We'd use it if you ever told us."
I let the firelight catch the corner of my mouth. "Fine. Call me Zhao Feng."
The ember between my fingers snapped. Zakir jerked awake, brow furrowing. Sylva's eyes widened, as if she'd been slapped.
"Zhao… Feng?" Zakir's voice was tight, loaded with confusion. "You… you actually said it."
Sylva's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. She shook her head, as though the words made no sense. "You—after everything we went through—why now?"
Anger flashed in her eyes, and I saw that slight tremor in her fingers. A single tear glimmered, then slipped free.
"I told you my name," I said, frustrated. "That's it. Why make it a drama?"
Zakir rose, the firelight dancing on his blade. His jaw clenched as he stepped forward. "Drama? You know what you taught us—how dangerous it is to share your true name."
My brows knit. "What I taught you?"
"You—" Sylva's voice wobbled. She pressed her palms flat against her thighs. "You were the one who warned us never to hand it out."
I stared at her, memory flickering. I'd lectured them, sounded so certain, so right. But those were fragments, echoes, not my own thoughts—memories that didn't belong to me.
Zakir's fist clenched at his side. "You don't remember? You told us it was binding, that once you… shared it..."
Sylva shook her head, her tears gleaming in the firelight. She took a trembling breath. "You said we'd be bound to you. That you'd be bound to us. You said…"
She swallowed. "You said giving your name was worth dying for."
I closed my eyes, the weight of her words pressing down. I had said those words—but not me. Suddenly, the ghost of another life flickered before my eyes.
"I… don't remember it all," I whispered. "But I said it. I must've."
Zakir's face twisted—pain, betrayal, confusion muddled together. He backed off a step. "You did. And now you've… given it to us."
Sylva leaned in close, voice crackling. "And you know what that means. You told us."
I looked at her, at the raw hurt in her gaze. "I… I know it matters. I just didn't… expect this reaction."
She glanced away, swallowing. "Expect what? That we'd pretend it meant nothing? That we'd nod and call you Zhao Feng like you were any stranger?"
A heavy wind blew in from the treeline, rattling dead leaves. The fire guttered, showering sparks.
Everyone stiffened. Blades slid halfway from sheaths. Eyes darted to the forest edge. Zakir's hand hovered at his sword. Sylva stared into the darkness.
I sensed nothing. No foreboding. No threat. Just the silent ritual of fear around me.
Sylva pressed a finger to my lips. Her unblinking gaze told me not to break the stillness.
Then they came.
A figure glided from the black, robes billowing as if caught in wind that wasn't there. A mask hid their face, pale and expressionless. They walked the circle of firelight like a specter come to inspect the living.
My chest tightened—how had I not felt them approach?
They stopped just beyond the flames, head tilting as if studying each of us. Their voice, when it came, was soft and resonant.
"The first trial has ended. The weak have already fallen."
They paused, letting the words sink in.
"The second trial begins now. The first was survival. The second is choice."
I exchanged a glance with Sylva and Zakir. Their faces, lit by the fire, were eerily calm.
"No fewer than two," the figure continued. "No more than three. Those who stand alone will not proceed."
A hush fell again. The forest seemed to lean in.
Zakir exhaled, sheathing his sword with deliberate slowness. Sylva's finger dropped from my lips, but her eyes stayed locked on the woods.
I raised my head, letting my gaze sweep the camp. The rules had shifted. Now, they weren't just hunting me—they knew something about me changed.
Sylva took a small step closer, voice low. "Looks like we're a trio."
Zakir nodded, shoulders rolling back into place. "Trio."
I met their eyes, letting the weight of my real name hang between us. No explanations. No promises. Only the unspoken agreement that we'd face this trial together.
The masked figure blended back into the trees, leaving only the echo of its words—and the crackling fire—to witness our pact.
I inhaled, breath steady, heart pounding with questions.
As I was no longer the only one with them.