Lirael Myrin didn't so much run as cut through the forest like a blade through silk. One moment she was standing over the fallen wendigos, the next she flickered forward—vanishing into the trees with a sound like air folding over itself.
Rin, Lira, and Taro exploded into motion after her, but it was instantly, embarrassingly clear: they weren't chasing her. They were chasing the space she had already abandoned.
Branches cracked beneath Rin's boots as he sprinted, teeth gritted, breath scraping the back of his throat. Lirael's afterimage still shimmered between the trunks—sharp, decisive, effortless. Aegis. One of the untouchable. One of the pinnacle hunters.
And he—
He was crawling after her like a child.
Rin shoved forward harder, legs burning, lungs threatening mutiny. But the gap only widened.
The forest swallowed Lirael whole.
Rin felt the shame hit him with physical force.
We trained. We struggled. We survived Ravenwood. And compared to her… we're nothing. Nothing.
His jaw locked.
He bit down on his lip until copper filled his mouth, frustration boiling under his skin. He could feel the thin line between pushing harder and simply collapsing—and the bitter truth that even at his best, he couldn't reach her heels.
Ahead of him, Lira moved with crisp, precise steps, but her breathing was even. She noticed Rin's breaking pace out of the corner of her eye—saw the shake in his shoulders, the downward tilt of his head.
She said nothing.
Her gaze snapped forward again. Talking wouldn't help him. Wouldn't change the fact they were being left behind by a reality they hadn't been ready to see.
Taro lagged too, far more visibly. The girl on his back was a dead weight—fragile, unconscious, bleeding through the crude wrapping Lira had patched together earlier. Every impact of his boots jostled her, and every jostle drew a faint, cracked sound from her throat. But he kept going, partly because stopping felt like giving up, and partly because the forest behind them was too silent, too wrong.
Then the cough came.
Wet. Small. But unmistakable.
Taro skidded to a halt, nearly buckling as the girl's hand twitched weakly against his shoulder.
"Lira—wait—she—"
He crouched hard, breath hitching, and gently slid the girl from his back.
She coughed again. Blood flecked her lips.
Taro's heart seized.
"We… we have to fix this. She's hurting again."
His arms were trembling now—not from fear, but exhaustion. "I—just a second. I need… a second."
Lira turned at once, dropping to one knee beside the girl. Her hands moved swiftly, rechecking pulse, breathing, pupil response.
"She's degrading," Lira muttered, voice tight. "Internal damage. She needs proper treatment—soon."
Taro wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, panting. "Sorry. I just… couldn't run anymore. My legs feel like they're shaking apart."
He looked up as if to apologize further—
And froze.
Because Lirael Myrin was suddenly there.
No footsteps. No warning.
Just presence—like the forest itself had decided to shape her from shadow and cold wind.
Taro's breath caught in his chest.
"H–how—?"
She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on the girl—calculating, precise, reading the injuries faster than Taro could form a sentence.
"So this is the survivor," she said, voice low, controlled. "In worse condition than reported."
Lira nodded quickly, half bowing from habit. "She's stable enough to move, but barely. We could lose her if the pace is too rough."
A faint exhale left Lirael's nose—disapproval, resignation, or simply impatience. It was hard to tell.
Then she crouched, slid her arms under the girl with clinical confidence, and lifted her in a single motion.
Not roughly.
Not gently either.
Efficiently.
"Enough," she said.
Taro blinked, dazed. "W-wait— we can still—"
"No, you can't."
She turned her head just enough to look at him—and for the first time, there was emotion in her expression.
Not irritation. Not superiority.
Assessment.
"You three are spent. Your breathing is uneven, your footwork sloppy, and your focus fractured. Continuing at this pace would slow me down."
She shifted the unconscious girl on her back and tightened the securing straps with firm movements. "And that is not acceptable."
Rin, still catching up, stumbled into the clearing just in time to hear that.
His face crumpled—not visibly, but internally.
He swallowed hard.
He didn't argue.
He didn't trust his voice.
Lirael rose to her full height—taller than Lira, a half-head over Rin—and the weight of her presence was like a cold tide washing over them.
Her amber eyes flicked over the three members of Ash Unit.
"I will take the girl to safety and proceed to the primary threat," she said. "Commander Voss deployed two Aegis for a reason. One handles the rescue." She tilted her chin toward the direction the wendigos had rushed. "The other handles what your leader is facing."
Kael.
All three stiffened.
Taro's breath hitched. Rin's fists tightened. Lira's jaw shifted slightly, barely noticeable unless one knew her well.
Lirael turned away, already preparing to move.
"We're short on time," she added, tone final. "Stay behind me. Do not fall farther behind than you already are. I will slow my pace—"
She paused.
"—slightly."
She didn't wait for their response.
With the girl secured, she stepped—and vanished again into the trees, this time slower than before but still impossibly fast.
Rin swallowed the burn in his throat and surged forward after her.
Lira followed with a sharp inhale, eyes forward.
And Taro, breathing hard but determined, pushed himself to run again.
Their pace was ragged, strained. But they followed.
Because whatever waited ahead—
Kael was facing it alone.
And they refused to let that be the end.