• Arrowhurt May 2026

    With a sharp tug and a flare of silver light from Elara’s palms, the arrow was gone. But the arrowhurt remained—a hollow, thrumming void where his strength used to be. For a moment, Kaelen felt himself slipping away, ready to let the cold take him.

    "Not today," he breathed, sitting up as Elara bandaged the wound. The ache was still there, a dull reminder of how close he’d come, but the arrowhurt was broken. arrowhurt

    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. With a sharp tug and a flare of

With a sharp tug and a flare of silver light from Elara’s palms, the arrow was gone. But the arrowhurt remained—a hollow, thrumming void where his strength used to be. For a moment, Kaelen felt himself slipping away, ready to let the cold take him.

"Not today," he breathed, sitting up as Elara bandaged the wound. The ache was still there, a dull reminder of how close he’d come, but the arrowhurt was broken.

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.