The mountain's breath grew harsher, the wind carrying whispers that no longer spoke only of memory but of intent.
They climbed higher, the stone beneath their feet slick with cold and time, the mist thinning into a brittle veil that tore against their skin.
She pressed forward, the broken sword strapped against her back, the crystal at her throat pulsing with warning.
He stayed close, his presence a constant, a tether between her and the looming darkness that thickened with every step.
It wasn't just memory anymore.
It was something real.
Something hunting them.
She could feel it a pressure behind her ribs, a weight against her lungs.
A wrongness that the air could no longer hide.
"What is it?" she whispered.
He didn't answer immediately.
He turned his head, scanning the barren rocks around them, the wind lifting the edges of his cloak like fingers reaching to claim him.
"The Hunter," he said at last, voice low and grim.
Her blood turned to ice.
"What does it want?"
He met her gaze, no comfort in his eyes.
"What all hunters want," he said.
"To claim the wounded."
The word wounded struck something deep inside her.
She wasn't whole, not yet.
And it knew.
They moved faster, the path winding into narrow ledges where one misstep would send them tumbling into endless mist below.
The Hunter didn't appear.
It didn't need to.
Its presence alone was enough thickening the air, slowing their steps, sinking into their bones like a second, invisible weight.
She stumbled once, and he caught her instantly, his fingers tightening around her arm.
Their eyes met, and in that brief, shuddering moment, they understood each other without words.
Neither could survive this alone.
They wouldn't even try.
A low, rumbling growl echoed through the stone, vibrating through the soles of their feet.
It was close now.
Very close.
He pulled her behind a jagged outcropping of rock, pressing them both into the meager shelter it offered.
He drew the black dagger from beneath his cloak, its edge catching what little light remained.
"If it sees your light, it will come for you first," he said, his voice rough.
She touched the crystal at her throat instinctively.
"I can't hide it," she whispered.
"No," he said. "But you can trust me."
Before she could ask what he meant, he reached out and touched the crystal lightly.
A shimmer spread from his fingers, weaving over her skin, dulling the light until it flickered like a dying ember still there, but hidden from prying eyes.
The effort cost him; she saw it in the way his shoulders sagged, in the tightness around his mouth.
But he didn't let go.
Didn't waver.
Not even for a moment.
The ground trembled underfoot.
From the mist ahead, a shape emerged
Tall.
Terrible.
Its body woven from shadow and bone, its face a twisted mask of grief and rage.
The Hunter.
It turned its hollow gaze toward the rocks where they hid.
And smiled.
The Hunter moved with a grace that should not have belonged to something so monstrous.
It glided over the stones, a darkness that seemed to devour what little hope the thin air carried.
She held her breath, pressing herself tighter against the rock, feeling him tense beside her.
The Hunter sniffed the air, its jagged form rippling as if tasting the fear that thickened around them.
She dared not move.
Dared not even blink.
Beside her, he shifted slightly, bringing the dagger up between them in a protective gesture.
If it came to a fight, she knew he would not hesitate to stand between her and death.
But he would not survive it.
Neither of them would.
The Hunter took another step closer.
She could feel its hunger now
Not for blood.
Not for flesh.
For memory.
For light.
For everything she had fought to reclaim.
The crystal at her throat pulsed faintly against her skin, and the Hunter's head snapped toward the sound.
It had heard.
It had smelled her defiance.
With a snarl like tearing metal, it lunged.
He shoved her aside, out of its path, even as he threw himself forward to meet it.
The clash was soundless shadow against shadow, broken light against broken hunger.
She scrambled to her feet, heart hammering.
"No!" she cried.
But he didn't look back.
He fought with the brutal, desperate grace of someone who knew he couldn't win, but chose to fight anyway.
The dagger flashed, catching against the Hunter's shifting form, slicing through tendrils of mist and shadow.
It shrieked a sound like shattered glass and burning stone and lashed out.
He staggered but did not fall.
The dagger trembled in his hand, its light flickering.
She couldn't just stand there.
She couldn't let him fight alone.
Drawing a breath that seared her lungs, she pulled the broken sword from her back.
The cloth fell away, and the blade fractured and dim caught the faintest glimmer of her light.
The Hunter recoiled, hissing.
She stepped forward, the broken sword steady in her hands.
He saw her coming, and something flickered in his eyes
Pride.
Fear.
Hope.
Together, they advanced.
The Hunter lashed out again, but this time, she was ready.
She parried the blow clumsily, the broken sword vibrating in her grip.
He struck from the other side, the dagger biting deep into the Hunter's shadowy form.
It screamed, the sound tearing through the mountain itself.
For a heartbeat, the world froze.
And then
The Hunter fell back, its form unraveling into mist and ash.
It wasn't dead.
Not yet.
But it was driven off.
For now.
She sagged against him, gasping for breath.
He caught her, pulling her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could feel the tremor running through his body.
"You shouldn't have fought," he rasped against her hair.
"You shouldn't have fought alone," she whispered back.
They stood there, wrapped around each other, while the mountain slowly remembered how to breathe.
Finally, he pulled back just enough to look at her.
His eyes were dark, fierce, and impossibly tender.
"You are more dangerous than any Hunter," he said with a faint, broken smile.
She smiled through the sting of tears.
"And you are mine," she said fiercely.
He bowed his head, forehead resting lightly against hers.
"For as long as you will have me," he breathed.
"I will," she promised.
"Always."
And with the shattered sword in her hand and the shadow of a man who would die a thousand deaths for her at her side, she turned once more to face the path ahead.
Whatever hunted them would find them waiting.