The forest grew denser as Nicolette and the masked stranger pressed deeper into its heart. The ruins behind them seemed to vanish, swallowed by shadows and mist. Only the faint glow of the crystal pendant guided their steps, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"Where are you leading me?" Nicolette finally asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
The stranger tilted his head, his mask catching a gleam of moonlight. "To safety—or at least, to what remains of it."
His words unsettled her. Safety sounded like a luxury in this world.
The path narrowed, roots and vines twisting together like serpents. Nicolette stumbled once, and his hand shot out, steadying her before she could fall. His grip was firm, but when she looked at him, she thought she caught a flicker of softness in his hidden gaze.
"You walk as though the forest resists you," he murmured.
"Maybe it does. I wasn't born to tread this cursed land."
"On the contrary," he said quietly, "this land remembers you."
The words froze her steps. She wanted to demand what he meant, but before she could, a rustle echoed nearby. The stranger lifted a finger to his lips. Silence fell, broken only by the heavy sound of her breathing.
From the underbrush, shadows emerged—three wolf-like beasts with eyes that gleamed red in the dark. Their bodies were lean, yet their snarls carried the hunger of predators that had stalked these paths for centuries.
Nicolette's fingers tingled with warmth. She knew the fire within her stirred again. But this time, she refused to tremble.
The stranger drew his blade in a single fluid motion. "Stay behind me."
"No," Nicolette said, surprising herself. "I won't cower this time."
The first beast lunged, teeth snapping. Nicolette thrust her hands forward instinctively, and a jet of flame burst forth, lighting the forest in a furious blaze. The creature yelped and retreated, fur singed, while the others circled warily.
The masked stranger fought with precision, his sword slicing arcs of steel that reflected firelight. Together, they moved—his strikes, her flames—an unspoken rhythm binding them in battle.
When the last beast fell, silence reclaimed the forest. Smoke drifted upward, mixing with mist, and Nicolette's knees buckled from exhaustion.
"You…you didn't tell me they would come," she gasped.
"They come for the crystal. Always," he replied, his mask tilted down toward her. "That pendant isn't just a light—it's a beacon. And you are its bearer."
Her heart thudded painfully. "Then I've painted a target on myself."
"No," he corrected softly. "You've been chosen. The path you walk will not be easy, but it will reveal who you truly are."
As they pressed onward, Nicolette realized this forest was no longer just a trial—it was an awakening.