We ran without stopping, our lungs burning. The night enveloped us, hiding our tracks but also filling every shadow with threats. Finally, amidst some thick bushes, we found a small cave. It wasn't deep, but it was something.
"Here… let's rest a bit," said James, panting, as he slumped against the rocky wall.
Sara nodded, looking toward the entrance with eyes still full of terror. I slid to the ground, feeling the tremble in my legs. It wasn't just from exhaustion. The image of Dario and Andre staying behind, facing that monster with the dragon-forged sword, replayed in my head.
"Do you think… they made it?" I asked, unable to stop myself.
James looked down. Sara hugged her knees.
"I don't know, Azrael. But if anyone could, it was them," she murmured, though her voice didn't sound very convinced.
The silence that followed was heavy. Only our ragged breathing and the distant howl of the wind could be heard. I looked at my hands, still weak, useless. At the academy, I was just an F-rank. During the escape, a burden. My parents sold everything for a useless son. The knot in my throat returned.
"We can't stay here for long," James said, breaking the silence. "At dawn, we have to move on. We could try to reach the merchant city. My parents… might be able to help us, or at least hide us."
I nodded. It was a plan. The only one we had.
Suddenly, a crunch outside the cave paralyzed us. All three of us froze, holding our breath. Sara raised a hand, a faint magical glow beginning to form on her fingers. James fumbled for a sharp rock. Me, without a sword, crouched down, ready for anything.
A small, hunched figure appeared at the entrance, dragging something. It wasn't a monster, or a soldier. It was an old man, in tattered clothes, carrying a bundle of firewood. He looked at us with surprise, then with a weary curiosity.
"Well, academy refugees, eh?" he said, his voice raspy but not hostile. "You're not the first I've seen pass through today."
I exchanged a look with James. Was it a trap? But the old man just set down the wood and sat at the entrance, skillfully lighting a small fire.
"Don't fret. This old cave is my home. The folks up there," he pointed into the darkness, toward the academy, "never bother coming down this far. You're welcome to share the fire… as long as you don't cause trouble."
Something in his tone, a genuine weariness, made me lower my guard a little. He wasn't an enemy. Maybe he was just another victim of all this chaos.
I slowly moved closer to the warmth of the flames. The old man looked at me, and his eyes seemed to see beyond my appearance.
"You have the look of someone who's seen the void," he said suddenly, as if to himself. "And also of someone carrying a heavy weight."
I didn't know how to respond. James and Sara moved closer too, wary but grateful for the heat.
"Rest," whispered the old man. "The night is long, and tomorrow… well, tomorrow the war will continue. It always does."
I leaned back against the rock, watching the sparks ascend. Dam had given me a second life, a family, a purpose. And now everything was crumbling around me. But as I watched James check his last potions and Sara keep watch at the entrance with determination, something hardened within me.
I couldn't be weak. Not now. I had to protect this. This new life, these friends. I had to become strong, not just with swords, but with cunning, with will.
The war between gods had arrived at my doorstep. And I, Azrael, wasn't going to run forever.