FADE IN:
INT. HIDDEN CAVE — NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
The lantern light trembles as the shadow peels itself off the wall.
It's not a trick of the flame — it's moving.
LYRA
(whispers)
What… is that?
ROWAN
A Shadow Wraith. They're not supposed to be this far south.
The Wraith's shape is fluid — a tall, jagged silhouette with glowing, empty eyes. It lets out a sound like wind through broken glass.
---
ROWAN steps forward, blade in hand, the runes along its edge pulsing faintly.
ROWAN
(under his breath)
By light unbound, by fire awake…
He slashes — but the blade passes through smoke. The Wraith reforms, hissing, and rushes toward Lyra.
---
LYRA freezes, heart pounding, until Rowan grabs her and shoves her against the wall.
ROWAN
Stay down!
He pulls a small glass vial from his belt, cracks it, and a burst of silver light floods the cave. The Wraith screeches, its form rippling violently before it retreats toward the entrance.
ROWAN
(gasping)
We need to move. It'll come back with more.
---
EXT. FOREST — NIGHT
They slip out of the cave, Rowan keeping a hand on her back to guide her through the tangle of roots and mist.
The forest is alive with noises — rustling leaves, distant growls, and the faint metallic hum of the Hunters' weapons.
LYRA
I thought you said the ward would keep them out.
ROWAN
I said it would keep them out. Not their pets.
---
INT. ABANDONED WATCHTOWER — NIGHT
They find shelter in the remains of a stone watchtower. The stairs are half-collapsed, and the wind whistles through arrow slits.
Lyra sits on the floor, exhausted.
LYRA
If these things want me so badly… why?
Rowan hesitates, staring out at the moonlit forest.
ROWAN
Because your blood… isn't human. Not entirely.
LYRA
(frowning)
That's impossible.
ROWAN
Is it?
---
EXT. FOREST EDGE — SAME TIME
The Hunter Leader stands at the treeline, watching the watchtower. Two more Wraiths slither at his feet like smoke made flesh.
HUNTER LEADER
(low, to himself)
She doesn't even know what she carries.
He lifts his mask just enough to whisper into the night — and somewhere, far away, something ancient stirs.
---
INT. WATCHTOWER — NIGHT
Lyra lies awake while Rowan keeps watch. The silver dagger rests across his knees.
LYRA
(quietly)
What am I?
Rowan doesn't answer immediately — and in the silence, she hears it.
A voice.
Soft. Familiar.
Calling her name from outside.
FADE OUT.