Nyxborn-The Forgotten Etherium

Renar held the hunter's gaze, his mind racing.

The man wasn't just looking at him—he was studying him.

Not recognition. Not hostility. But something far more dangerous.

Doubt.

The hunter's grip tightened around his bow, knuckles pale. He wasn't drawing it—not yet—but his stance screamed readiness.

He thinks he knows me.

Renar forced himself to stay still. If he ran, it would confirm whatever the hunter suspected.

A moment passed.

Then the man's lips parted.

"What are you?"

Not who.

What.

Renar's breath hitched. The wrong question.

A normal person would have asked who he was. A mercenary would have asked if he was worth coin. A guard would have asked for his name.

But this man—this hunter—had seen something.

Something wrong.

Renar kept his voice steady. "A traveler."

The hunter exhaled, shaking his head. "No. That's not what I see."

His amber eyes flicked to Renar's shadow—a shadow that didn't match the light.

Renar followed his gaze.

And for the first time, he saw it.

His shadow was wrong.

It stretched in the opposite direction, as if the sun had lost its grip on him. It was still, even as the wind moved the leaves.

And in the darkest part of it—

Something moved.

A flicker. A ripple.

Like the echo of something watching.

Renar's pulse pounded. He took a slow step back. "You're mistaken."

The hunter didn't move. "Maybe."

A pause.

Then—

"But I don't think so."