Chapter 2: The Satchel and the Sigil
Thanks for coming back for the next installment of the Velmorne Chronicles. Without further delay, here is:
They didn’t wait for dawn — just the moment the road behind them fell silent. Kal had seen enough to know what sort of men shouted in the dark and tracked bleeding girls through the trees.
The girl’s name was Talia. She offered it only after Kal drove off the last hunter with a broken chair leg and a boot to the throat. Didn’t thank him. She just clutched the satchel tighter and kept moving.
By morning, the storm had passed. The woods were slick with mist and silence. Kal led, Talia limped behind him, and neither of them asked if the hunters would return. They always did.
They stopped by a stream. While Talia cleaned her wounds, Kal crouched near the satchel, eyeing the etched runes like they might bite.
“Ever seen markings like that?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the water.
Kal didn’t answer right away. The symbols pulsed faintly, almost like breath. His fingers tingled just being near it.
“I’ve seen stranger,” he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction.
Talia gave a dry smile. “That’s not a no.”
“It’s a *don’t ask*.”
She exhaled and leaned back on her hands, letting her gaze drift to the sky. “You keep looking at it like it might explode.”
“I’ve seen things that look harmless. They usually aren’t.”
Her smile faded. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Didn’t say you did.” Kal tossed a twig into the stream and watched it vanish downstream. “But things like that — they don’t stay lost by accident. Someone wanted it found.”
Talia went quiet, hugging the satchel to her chest. For a moment, Kal thought she might cry. Instead, she just whispered, “Then maybe it found the wrong person.”
That night, the fire wouldn’t catch. The air had turned heavy, like the trees were holding their breath. Kal sharpened his blade with deliberate slowness.
“You don’t have to help me,” she said.
“I know,” he replied.
“Then why are you?”
Kal looked at the stars, as if they’d answer for him. “Because someone once helped me. And I didn’t deserve it either.”
She didn’t ask again.
In the darkness, something watched them from the trees. It didn’t blink or breathe. It simply waited, patient as death itself.
And the runes on the satchel began to glow.
Until next time — stay sharp, and trust no satchel that glows on its own.
Thanks for reading.
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