Chapter 33 Powerfully Hexed

• The forest at night was alive with whispers. Leaves rustled softly in the cool breeze, and the distant call of a night bird echoed through the towering pines. A silver crescent moon cut through drifting clouds, scattering pale light across the river that snaked lazily past a small clearing. The air smelled faintly of damp moss and smoke from the dying embers of a campfire, the only sign of life in the vast wilderness.
• Lucas stood at the river’s edge, barefoot, shirtless, and still as a statue. The moonlight outlined his lean, battle-hardened frame, glinting off faint scars that mapped his torso like a history of survival. His eyes were closed, his breathing measured, his fingers curled loosely at his sides. Around him, the forest felt charged—alive with something invisible yet unmistakable.
• Every rustle of leaves, every shift of the wind carried information to him. His senses, sharpened by both training and magic, scanned for danger. Somewhere out there, Maelrik and his men were still hunting, no doubt furious and humiliated after being outmaneuvered. Lucas didn’t need to see them to know, he could feel their frustration like a faint pulse in the air.