The Hidden Monster War
A Storm is Coming
Chapter Five
The morning arrived wrapped in a thick fog, clinging to the sanctuary like a shroud. The sun was little more than a faint glow behind the gray clouds, its warmth unable to penetrate the chilly air. The smell of damp earth and pine needles mixed with the lingering smoke from last night’s fire, creating a scent that was both familiar and unsettling.
I stretched, my muscles sore from the previous night’s fight. Around me, the camp stirred slowly to life. Mia was folding up her blanket, her movements sluggish but deliberate. Brady paced near the edge of the clearing, kicking at stray stones, while Evelyn was already sharpening her daggers, the rhythmic scraping of metal on stone filling the otherwise quiet air.
The silence between us wasn’t just from exhaustion—it was heavy, tense. None of us wanted to be the first to talk about what was coming, but the unease was as palpable as the mist hanging in the trees.
I wrapped my arms around myself, the chill biting through my thin jacket. The sword was still at my side, its faint glow pulsing softly. Every time I looked at it, a strange mixture of awe and dread curled in my stomach.
“We need a plan,” Evelyn said suddenly, breaking the quiet. Her voice was sharp, but it carried a kind of authority that made all of us stop what we were doing. She stood and sheathed her daggers, the motion smooth and practiced.
“What kind of plan?” Brady asked, his voice tight. His footsteps crunched against the frosty ground as he stepped closer. “Because if it’s just ‘wait and fight,’ I’m not sure how much more we can take.”
Evelyn’s green eyes narrowed as she regarded him. “We’re not just going to wait. We’re going to fortify the sanctuary, train, and gather whatever resources we can. This isn’t just about surviving the next attack—it’s about making sure there’s a sanctuary to protect.”
“Fortify it with what?” Brady shot back, gesturing around us. “We’re just kids! We don’t have an army. We barely have supplies!”
“Brady,” Mia said softly, but the trembling in her voice betrayed her fear. She placed a hand on his arm, and though he didn’t pull away, the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Evelyn knows what she’s doing. We have to trust her.”
Brady ran a hand through his hair, his frustration visible in the tightness of his jaw and the way his fists clenched and unclenched. “I just don’t want us walking into another slaughter,” he muttered.
I swallowed hard, my own doubts bubbling to the surface. “What do you need me to do?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
Evelyn’s gaze softened as it turned to me. “First, you need to learn how to control that sword. It’s powerful, but if you can’t wield it properly, it’s just as likely to hurt you as it is the enemy.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut, but I nodded. “Okay. How do I learn?”
She glanced toward the clearing’s edge, where the trees seemed to stretch endlessly into the fog. “There’s an old training ground not far from here. We’ll start there. But it’s not just about the sword, Sam. You need to trust yourself. That’s the hardest part.”
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I wanted to protest, to say that trusting myself was impossible when everything felt so overwhelming. But the look in Evelyn’s eyes stopped me. There was no room for hesitation.
The training ground was a small clearing bordered by moss-covered stones that jutted out of the earth like broken teeth. The air smelled of wet leaves and bark, and the fog was thinner here, allowing weak rays of sunlight to filter through the canopy. The quiet was unsettling, broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird or the rustle of branches in the breeze.
Evelyn led the way, her movements fluid and purposeful. She carried herself like someone who had done this a thousand times before, and I envied her confidence. Behind me, Mia and Brady followed, their silence heavy with their own doubts.
“Set the sword down,” Evelyn instructed, pointing to a flat stone at the center of the clearing.
I hesitated, the weight of the weapon feeling oddly reassuring in my hand. But I obeyed, laying it gently on the stone. Its glow dimmed slightly, like it was sleeping.
Evelyn circled me, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. “The first thing you need to understand is that this sword isn’t just a weapon. It’s alive, in a sense. It responds to you—your emotions, your intentions. If you’re afraid, it will reflect that. If you’re focused, it will amplify your strength.”
“That’s...comforting,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Evelyn smirked. “It’s a lot of responsibility, yes. But you’ve already proven you can handle it.”
“Barely,” I muttered under my breath.
Ignoring my comment, she stepped closer and picked up the sword, holding it out to me. “Feel its weight. Let it become an extension of you, not just something you’re holding.”
I took the sword, the metal warm against my palm. It felt heavier than before, or maybe I was just more aware of it.
“Now, focus,” Evelyn said. Her tone was calm but commanding. “Close your eyes. Clear your mind.”
I closed my eyes, but clearing my mind was easier said than done. The events of the last day crashed over me like a tidal wave—monsters, battles, the weight of being “Chosen.” My heart raced, and my breathing quickened.
“Focus,” Evelyn repeated, her voice firmer. “Breathe. Feel the sword.”
I tried again, taking a deep breath. The cool air filled my lungs, carrying the earthy scent of the forest. Slowly, I felt the sword’s warmth spread up my arm, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat.
“There,” Evelyn said softly. “You’re connecting with it.”
Suddenly, the warmth surged, and the runes on the blade glowed brighter. A faint hum filled the air, barely audible but vibrating through my hands.
“Whoa,” I breathed, my eyes snapping open.
Evelyn smiled, a rare expression for her. “Good. Now, let’s see how you handle it in motion.”
The next hour was a blur of movement, sweat, and frustration. Evelyn showed me how to hold the sword properly, how to move with it instead of against it. At first, I stumbled, the blade feeling awkward and unwieldy.
“Stop fighting it,” Evelyn said as I swung and missed a target—a makeshift dummy made of straw and branches. “You’re overthinking.”
“I’m trying!” I snapped, the frustration bubbling over.
“Try less,” she said simply.
I gritted my teeth and swung again, this time letting the sword guide me. To my surprise, the blade moved smoothly, slicing through the dummy with ease.
“Better,” Evelyn said with a nod.
Behind me, I heard Brady whistle. “Not bad, Sam. Maybe you’re not hopeless after all.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly, though his attempt at encouragement brought a small smile to my face.
Mia, sitting on a nearby rock, clapped lightly. “You’ve got this, Sam!”
Her cheerfulness was a small but welcome comfort.
By the time we returned to camp, the sun was dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows over the clearing. My arms ached, and my legs felt like jelly, but there was a sense of accomplishment warming me from the inside.
“Good work today,” Evelyn said as she passed me a canteen of water.
“Thanks,” I said, gulping down the cool liquid. The metallic taste of the canteen lingered on my tongue, but I didn’t care.
As I sat by the fire that evening, the sword resting at my side, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. For the first time, the weight of being Chosen felt a little less overwhelming.
But as I stared into the flames, a distant howl echoed through the trees, low and mournful. The others froze, their faces pale in the firelight.
The monsters were closer than we thought.
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