Arrowhurt

Kaelen tried to focus. The forest around them felt like it was retreating into a gray haze. Every beat of his heart sent a fresh wave of cold fire through his veins. He could see the black veins of the enchantment creeping away from the wound, a dark web against his pale skin. "It’s... it's heavy," Kaelen managed to gasp.

One. The forest held its breath.Two. Kaelen gripped a handful of dirt, feeling the grit and life of the earth.Three. arrowhurt

"Told you," Elara said with a grim smile, handing him his bow. "Now get up. We still have a long way to run." Kaelen tried to focus

He tumbled into the damp ferns, the world spinning. The "arrowhurt"—a term the healers used for the lingering, soul-deep ache of an enchanted projectile—blossomed through his chest. These weren't ordinary arrows; the Shadow-cloaks tipped them with essence-draining glass that ate at the spirit as much as the flesh. "Stay down," a voice hissed. He could see the black veins of the