Three kilometers.
Li Fan had chased that Amani troll for three whole kilometers.
His lungs were screaming in protest, but his legs kept pumping.
The sack of smoked meat swung back and forth in the troll’s claw—a greasy burlap bag bought at the Lordaeron market for three silver coins.
Three silver coins.
Half a month’s worth of food.
He leapt across a small creek, his knees nearly buckling when he landed, his boots sinking deep into the wet, rotting leaves.
The forest grew denser, the light dimmer, and then the air shifted.
Lordaeron smelled of mud and wet livestock.
Here, the air was a sharp blend of bronze and late-night vegetation.
He planted his right foot, toes touching down—and stopped.
Between the damp earth and fallen leaves ran a hair-thin line of faint blue light.
The Ban’dinoriel ward.
His right foot was already on the other side.
Li Fan looked down at his foot, then ahead at the troll lying on the ground, gasping for breath while still clinging to the greasy sack.
He sighed, unslung the longbow from his back, and drew.
The first arrow.
It drove straight through the troll’s throat.
With a dull thud, the creature collapsed.
He walked over, bending down, his fingertips just brushing the greasy fabric— Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
He didn’t turn around.
First came the sound of bowstrings drawing taut, ringing out simultaneously from all directions.
Then the subtle rustle of leather gloves tightening.
Then the faint whisper of rustling leaves as bodies dropped swiftly from the high branches—far lighter than a human, like a cat, yet far more grounded.
He slowly straightened up, raising both hands, palms facing outward.
Six bows.
Six directions.
The arrowheads were aimed at his head, heart, throat, and collarbones—a clean, efficient distribution with zero overlap.
The leader pulled back her hood.
Golden hair, brilliant blue eyes.
Li Fan’s eyes locked onto her face, freezing for a second.
*Her.* His throat hitched.
He forced the reaction down.
Those ice-blue eyes stared straight at him.
The tip of her arrow pressed against the space between his eyebrows, the knuckles of the hand drawing the string turning slightly white.
“Crossing the Ban’dinoriel barrier violates Article Three, Clause Six of the Codex of Quel’Thalas.
It is deemed an act of war against Silvermoon City.” Li Fan plastered on his best ‘I’m just a harmless stranger’ smile, keeping his palms out.
“A misunderstanding, elegant elven ladies.
I’m merely pursuing an international theft case.” No one smiled.
No one lowered their bow.
His eyes began to shift.
Six rangers—their positions, spacing, the elevation angles of their bows, the center of gravity for each person—were calculated in his mind within a fraction of a second.
Then his gaze drifted toward the canopy of the ancient tree just behind Alleria’s left shoulder.
It stopped.
The angle of the shadow was wrong.
That wasn’t the weight of leaves.
Something was lurking there.
His fingers twitched faintly at his side.
Not reaching for a weapon, but calculating.
*Six directions, six bows, all aimed at me.
If the one in the canopy is a seventh, there are seven of them.
If that one is an ambush, they aren’t here to catch me—they’re here to strike them.* *If I shout it out, will they believe me?* *If they don’t, I die.
If they do and a fight breaks out, I’m caught in the middle and might still die.* *Do I gamble?* He lowered his voice, speeding up his speech: “If I were you, I’d fire a volley at the canopy at two o’clock right now.” Alleria’s brow furrowed.
“Shut—” Li Fan was already rolling across the ground.
Hard earth, his knee slamming into a tree root, sending a dull ache radiating through the bone.
His right hand snatched a barbed arrowhead from his belt, and using the momentum of his body springing up, he flicked his wrist.
The arrow tip whistled past Alleria’s ear, the gust of wind lifting a strand of her hair before it settled back down.
*Thwack.* The sound of iron biting into flesh.
An Amani scout plummeted from the canopy, his stealth shattered, his neck snapping at an impossible angle upon impact with the ground.
Falani held her bow drawn to the limit without releasing.
Lais took a step back.
“An ambush!” Aiming’s voice remained calm.
“Why are you shouting?
It was just a greeting.” Tanner said nothing, turning around to stare intently at Li Fan.
Li Fan rose from the ground, a patch of skin scraped off his knee.
Blood seeped out, mixing with the mud.
Ignoring it, he dusted off his boots and pointed at the two corpses on the ground.
“Now, can we discuss compensation for my half-sack of smoked meat?
It’s from Lordaeron—very expensive.” Alleria didn’t speak right away.
She stared at the barbed arrowhead embedded in the scout’s throat for a long moment before her eyes shifted back to his face.
He stood in the middle of six raised bows, knee bleeding, talking about smoked meat.
She sheathed her bow, her voice utterly devoid of warmth: “Take him.
To the encampment—let the General decide his fate.” Falani and Karan stepped forward, grabbing his shoulders.
Li Fan didn’t resist, winking at Falani sideways.
“Don’t squeeze so hard, beautiful.
Leave a bruise, and your General might think I was abused.” Falani tightened her grip even more.
Dusk fell over Eversong Woods.
Arcane dust seeped from the crevices of the tree bark, floating suspended in the air, glowing golden without touching the ground.
The earth underfoot pushed back with a subtle springiness, responding to every step.
A witty remark rose to Li Fan’s lips, but caught in his throat.
Arcane dust settled on the tips of Alleria’s hair and on the spine of Falani’s bow, shimmering gold.
He had seen this scene ten thousand times in the game, but the game didn’t have the warmth of this earth pressing into his boots, nor the weight of this air pressing into his lungs.
His gaze lingered on Alleria’s retreating back for a second, then dropped.
He lowered his head, his voice dropping half a pitch.
“How long has that patrol blind spot existed on your route?” Alleria’s footsteps paused, but she didn’t turn around.
“I saw it the first day I came in,” he said, as casually as discussing the weather.
“You’re only checking it today because you recently changed patrol arrangements and haven’t had time to recheck the coverage.” She remained silent, her boots stepping on fallen leaves as her pace quickened.
“If I wanted to escape, the moment that troll hit the ground, I could have slipped into the blind spot to the southwest,” he added softly.
“That blind spot really exists.
Go take a look and you’ll see.” Her fingers went rigid for a second.
*He saw that blind spot on his very first day.
And she was only checking it now.* Unbidden, Alleria’s eyes darted toward the southwest, toward the shadow cast by the sprawling roots of an ancient tree.
It was indeed a blind spot.
She relaxed her hand, wiping her palm on her leather armor.
Her boots clicked faster against the fallen leaves, scattering the golden dust behind her before it slowly settled once more.
White stone spires trimmed in gold emerged from between the tree canopies.
Alleria bypassed the main entrance, leading him around to the northern side door—a low stone entryway.
The corridor inside was darker than the outdoors, smelling faintly of leather conditioner leaking from the storage room door.
Beneath their feet was polished gray stone, sending a chill creeping up through their boots.
At the end of the corridor, she pushed open a door.
“Get in.” Two paces wide, three paces deep.
A wooden cot, a neatly folded blanket, stone walls, and a fist-sized window facing the northern forest edge.
It wasn’t a dungeon—there were no chains or straw—but the door locked from the outside.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you to see the General,” she said, standing at the doorway without turning back.
“Until then, this is your room.” The door slammed shut.
The lock clicked into place, the metallic echo traveling down the hallway before fading away.
Li Fan sat down on the edge of the cot.
Placing the greasy sack of smoked meat on his lap, he turned to look at the fist-sized window.
The last golden rays of dusk retreated from the canopy.
Night bled out from the depths of Eversong Woods, seeping through the small window and creeping up the gray stone walls until it reached the back of his hand—cold to the touch.
Footsteps sounded from the far end of the corridor.
It was the ranger guard shift, stepping with steady, uniform rhythm on the stone flags.
As the footsteps faded, a deep silence settled over the room.
*Starting from a cell, then.* He reached into his pocket, pulled out the worn old hunter’s badge, flipped it between his fingertips, and put it back.
Outside the window, the canopy was swallowed by the dark.
The gold was entirely gone, leaving only pure black.
Li Fan moved the meat sack onto the bed, lay down, and stared up at the stone ceiling.
Tomorrow, they would take him to see the Ranger-General.
He closed his eyes.