We walked on, and the sharp, punishing pain that had made me flinch and sweat with every step was almost entirely gone. What remained was a dull, echoing ache — the kind that lingered deep in the bone, reminding me it wasn't finished with me yet.
Cold air slid across my skin as we moved, carrying the damp scent of stone and moss. Each step felt steadier than the last.
Sare studied me, her eyes narrowing as if she were measuring something invisible beneath my skin.
"You're almost functionally healed," she said at last, reluctant. "That's good."
Her gaze drifted to the sword at my side — the hilt white as polished bone, etched with fine gold engravings that caught the dying light. It looked almost ceremonial against the grime and blood, too clean for what it was meant to do.
"You're the only one with a weapon right now."
Trace lifted her head, eyes catching the dying light filtering through the canopy. The sun bled orange and red across the sky, shadows stretching long between the trees.
"The sun's setting. We should head back. In the morning we move early — faster. We've already covered this ground."
"Agreed," I said, my voice firm, steady despite the ache still whispering through my side.
On the way back, I stopped them with a raised hand. Gravel crunched softly beneath my boot, and I froze, listening. The forest held its breath.
I pointed ahead.
Shapes moved between the trees — tall, hunched silhouettes with too-long limbs and narrow shoulders. Pale eyes caught the fading light, blinking once before vanishing again.
A pack of humanoid wolves.
Trace leaned close, her whisper barely more than breath, warm against my ear yet tight with control.
"We can't fight them."
"I can mask my presence," I murmured. "I'll draw them away. You move. I'll disappear and meet you at the cavern."
"No." Trace's voice sharpened, low and commanding, like a blade drawn just enough to warn. "We're not separating."
"It's the best way to avoid a confrontation," Sare said quietly. "Right now, we're liabilities."
Sare's gaze flicked between us, then past the wolves. Her pupils dilated slightly, tracking movements I couldn't fully see.
"I can see their weaknesses," she said softly. "Behind the foot — the hind leg. The tendon. Their Achilles."
"That makes sense," I replied. "That's where all their force comes from. Sever it, and they collapse."
There wasn't time to argue.
I shifted my weight and began to circle the pack, slow and deliberate. Leaves brushed my boots, twigs pressing into my soles as I placed each step with care. The wolves' ears twitched, but their attention stayed forward.
"Asher—damn it," Trace hissed behind me.
I let my shadow rise.
It spilled outward, thick and heavy, clinging to my skin like ink poured into water, swallowing my outline until even the air seemed to forget I was there. Midnight slid free with a soundless draw, the blade drinking in what little light remained.
Five of them.
Their breath steamed faintly in the cooling air, claws clicking softly against stone as they shifted.
I glanced back toward where we'd come from — the jagged mouth of the cavern barely visible between the rocks. Closer than I'd thought.
Night crept in fast now, shadows deepening, sound dulling beneath the canopy. The terrain favored me. The darkness favored me.
It felt almost deliberate.
As if the world itself had set the stage —
and was waiting to see if I would step onto it.
I needed to strike quick. Fast.
My heart hammered so hard it felt like it was trying to break out of my chest. I don't want a fight, I thought, fear crawling up my spine. I know I can't win.
I lunged anyway.
The world narrowed to motion and instinct. My body moved before my doubt could catch up, shadow and muscle surging forward together. Midnight flashed as I drove low, aiming exactly where Sare had said—behind the foot, the Achilles.
The blade struck.
And stopped.
The impact jarred my arm all the way to the shoulder. There was no resistance giving way, no tearing—just a dull, wrong thud, like steel biting stone.
Shock froze me for half a heartbeat.
Too long.
I sprang backward, breath tearing from my lungs as claws slashed through the space where my neck had been. Air hissed. Fur brushed my cheek.
I stumbled back into a crouch, heart screaming.
In the distance, I saw movement—two shadows slipping away through the trees.
Good. Move. Don't stop.
A humanoid wolf exploded toward me from the right.
I reacted on pure instinct. Midnight came up just in time, catching the claw with a screech of metal. The force rattled my bones, twisting my body sideways. I let it carry me, planting my left hand in the dirt and flipping over the wolf to my left as it lashed out.
Too familiar.
I'd almost died to that attack before.
My body remembered even if my mind didn't.
Midnight met the strike. Steel rang, sharp and painful, vibrating through my grip. I landed hard, boots skidding, knees buckling as I fought to stay upright. Dirt sprayed. My breath came out ragged.
I spun, eyes darting, counting shapes, listening to snarls and the scrape of claws against stone.
I just need to buy time.
They came together.
Front and back.
I dropped, rolling left as claws tore through the air above me. The ground slammed into my shoulder as I pushed off, forcing myself upright just as the wolves collided behind me.
I moved.
Again.
Again.
My blade flashed in tight arcs, precise and controlled.
Faster. Lighter. More strength.
Charon's voice echoed in my skull, sharp and unforgiving.
I struck the humanoid wolf on my left, driving Midnight straight into its abdomen.
Nothing.
The blade slid off as if I'd hit reinforced hide. No blood. No stagger. No scream.
My stomach dropped.
That wasn't wrong.
My technique wasn't wrong.
"What the hell!" I shouted, panic breaking through the control. "What—no," I gasped, panic tearing loose. "Now? You choose now to fail me?"
The moment I lost focus, death rushed in.
A shadow ripped free from me, dense and violent, slamming into the wolf behind me just as its claws descended. The impact knocked it aside, the force shuddering through my chest as the shadow snapped back into place.
My legs wobbled.
Focus.
One misstep. One breath too slow.
I'm dead.
The shadow surged again, pushing the wolf back—and this time it came back too fast, slamming into me, nearly pitching me forward.
"What the hell?" I gasped, barely catching myself as another attack came from the right.
I blocked on reflex, arms screaming, lungs burning. Sweat ran into my eyes, vision blurring at the edges. My breaths were shallow now, uneven, each one scraping my throat raw.
How long has it been?
My body felt heavy. Slower.
Enough.
I jumped.
Pain flared through my legs as I launched upward, driving Midnight into the bark of a nearby tree. The blade pierced clean through this time, sinking deep. The shock nearly ripped it from my grip.
Using the momentum, I swung, boots scraping bark as I hauled myself onto a branch.
I masked my presence instantly.
The world dimmed, sound dulling as if wrapped in cloth. I sheathed Midnight with shaking hands and didn't wait.
I ran.
Branch to branch.
Shadow to shadow.
Leaves tore at my clothes. Bark burned my palms. I didn't stop. I didn't slow. I didn't look back until my lungs were on fire and my vision swam.
The cavern came into view.
Trace and Sare were there—pacing, frantic, relief flashing across their faces when they saw me.
The tension holding me upright snapped.
My legs gave out.
The world tilted, blurred, darkened.
And I hit the ground.