The scream tore through the forest like a blade through taut silk—raw, guttural, and close.
Serenya bolted upright, the cold of the night forgotten. Her breath caught in her throat as she reached beneath her thin blanket and gripped the hilt of her dagger, fingers slick with sweat.
Another scream sharper this time, cut short.
Then came the sound. Wet, crunching. Bones. Something was being dragged.
She flung the tent flap open and stumbled barefoot into the clearing.
The fire had died down to embers. Shadows twisted between the trees. For one frozen moment, everything was still.
Then it exploded.
A body flew past her—one of her guards—his armor torn like parchment, face frozen in horror. He hit the ground in a broken heap, unmoving.
"No—" she gasped, but another figure rushed past her. The second Ariathen soldier, sword drawn, sprinted into the trees with a furious cry. His voice was cut short. Something lunged from the dark, slammed him down. The wet snap of his neck echoed.
Serenya's scream caught behind her teeth.
She backed away, barefoot and trembling, trying to make sense of the thing that emerged from the dark. It didn't walk. It crawled low, shifting like fog but heavier—muscle and bone and smoke all in one. Eyes like burning coal locked onto hers.
She couldn't breathe.
Then a roar—not from the creature—from one of the Velstrath warriors.
Three of them appeared like wraiths from the mist, swords gleaming in the firelight. They didn't charge blindly—they hunted, their movements precise, lethal.
One leapt, blade sinking into the creature's side. The thing shrieked, a sound that made her ears ring, and spun—claws raking across armor.
The warrior flew back, crashing into a tree with a sickening crack.
The second slashed at the beast's flank, dodging with inhuman speed. The third moved to block it from reaching her, but the creature surged forward again—unyielding. It wanted her. Not them.
Serenya's legs refused to move.
"Move!" one of the warriors shouted over his shoulder. "Get her out—!"
Too late.
The beast lunged straight for her.
She braced herself for impact ....but then a blur of movement.
A flash of gold.
Kaelen.
He didn't announce himself. He didn't hesitate.
He struck.
One clean motion—his blade arced like firelight through smoke, cleaving the monster from shoulder to spine. It shrieked in fury and then silence. Its body fell apart into black mist, melting into the earth like blood into sand.
Serenya stared. Her chest heaved, her legs weak beneath her. Kaelen stood over the remains, his sword glowing faintly with unnatural light. He was breathing hard, not from exhaustion—but from restraint.
His face was unreadable. A single line of blood traced his cheek, but he didn't seem to notice.
She looked again—at the way he stood, the stillness of him. His shadow stretched behind him, twisting strangely, too many limbs for one man.
'The rumors were right....he isn't human'
What are you?
Behind him, the remaining Velstrath soldiers moved quickly, checking the wounded, dragging bodies toward the fire. No words. No prayers.
Two of her Ariathen guards were gone. She turned her head slowly, heart cracking—another lay not far from her tent, body torn, eyes open and glassy. The fourth—
"There," one of the Velstrath warriors said grimly, yanking something from the tree line.
Ariathen white.
Head bent at an impossible angle.
Her face paled as she fell to the ground
'All four. Dead. '
Her stomach twisted. She tried to breathe, but it hit her all at once—they were gone. All of them. Because of her...
Only the Velstrath warriors still stood—silent, armor splashed in shadow. They rose slowly, not a single one of them wounded. Not limping. Not shaking. Soldiers built for death.
One knelt beside the beast's corpse, fingers probing the black ichor that oozed from its claws. Another scanned the treeline, pale eyes sharp beneath his helm.
Kaelen turned slowly, his eyes faintly glowing, the wind catching the hem of his cloak.
His voice came quiet. Too quiet.
> "It wasn't just hunting."
He stepped forward. The forest crackled underfoot.
Kaelen finally spoke, his voice low and cutting through the stillness like the edge of his blade.
> "They were never meant to make it this far."
She blinked at him, not sure she'd heard right. "What?!"
He turned toward her, his gaze sharp. "The creature was after you. It ignored the others. It moved with intent."
Her lips parted, but no sound came. She looked around again—at the claw marks in the trees, the blood staining the earth, the empty eyes of men who'd sworn to protect her.
This wasn't just an attack.
It was a message.
But...
Why?
Why would it come for me?
Somewhere in the distance, another howl rose—low, mournful, and wrong. Not near, but not far enough.
Kaelen's jaw tensed. He turned to his men.
> "We move. Now. On foot."
A few curt nods followed.
Serenya got up and stepped forward unsteadily, her voice barely audible
"Wait—our horses—what about—"
Kaelen's voice cut cleanly.
"Gone."
"I can walk," she started, stubborn, reaching for control that wasn't there.
He didn't answer.
He just looked over his shoulder. "Zeke."
The one who hadn't spoken—the quiet one with pale eyes like winter moons—stepped forward. A living shadow in armor. Cold and unreadable.
"Carry her."
Serenya took a step back. "That's not necessary. I said I can walk—"
Kaelen's gaze fixed on her, sharp enough to wound.
> "We leave now."
Cold. Final. No room for debate.
Zeke said nothing. He just moved, scooping her up with surprising gentleness—like she weighed nothing. His arms were cold, armor digging lightly into her side.
Serenya didn't resist anymore
Because the silence of the woods wasn't safe.
Because Kaelen was right—whatever that thing had been, it wasn't finished....for all they knew, more could be coming.
They ran.
The wind howled through the trees as the Velstrath warriors vanished into the dark like shadows. Fast. Unnaturally fast.
Branches blurred past. Her cheek stung from the wind, her vision bouncing with every powerful stride. The air was too sharp.
Zeke ran without effort, holding her tightly, his breath steady against her hair.
Serenya buried her face in his shoulder. She should stay awake. Just a little longer.
But her body wouldn't listen—not after what it had seen. Not after what it had lost
***
Darkness, then nothing.
No sense of time.
Only silence—and motion.
The rhythmic thud of armored footsteps. The swaying chill of night air. Heat of a fire she never remembered reaching.
Then came stillness.
---
She woke to warmth.
A bed—so soft, it felt like it had been made to cradle her grief. The air smelled of stone, fire, and something faintly floral. She blinked against the soft glow of lanterns, the silk canopy above her dyed deepest black and edged with gold thread.
Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
The room was spacious and unfamiliar, its walls dark but elegant—like history was watching her from every carved panel.
She sat up sharply, heart racing.
The door creaked opened.
A woman stepped in—tall, graceful, with hair the color of flames and eyes like polished amber. She carried a silver tray with covered dishes and a steaming teacup. Her smile was serene.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," she said softly. "I brought your breakfast."
Serenya blinked.
"…Where am I?"
The woman bowed her head slightly.
"Velstrath."