Chapter 12: The Branch That Breaks
The branch cracked again.
A thin, sharp sound—like a bone splintering beneath a blade—and the weight beneath Myra's fingers sagged lower. Her arms trembled violently. Bark flaked off in gritty pieces under her palms. Her boots swung over cold, black water that swallowed anything it touched.
Below her, the Duskfang she had knocked into the channel shook its pelt a final time, mud dripping from its muzzle. It let out a low, furious growl—no longer startled, no longer clumsy. Its ember eyes locked on her with renewed hunger.
Across the broken causeway, the other two stalkers tensed. Their hindquarters lowered as they tested the stones beneath their claws, finding purchase. They were learning. Adjusting. Waiting for her grip to slip.
The pup clung to Myra's chest, tiny paws digging into her cloak, sparks jittering weakly across its fur. Its blue-white eyes were wide—not afraid, but focused, as if listening to something she couldn't hear.
Myra's breath came in sharp bursts.
Her arms burned.
Her muscles shook.
Her fingers slipped another fraction of an inch.
"Okay," she whispered, voice cracking. "Not… ideal."
The branch creaked, sagging again.
She had seconds.
Maybe.
The nearest Duskfang crouched lower—coiling for a leap.
Myra's heart slammed against her ribs.
She couldn't climb up.
She couldn't swing off.
She couldn't drop.
She had nowhere to go.
"Little guy," she whispered to the pup, her voice strained, "if you have a miracle left in you… now is absolutely the time."
The pup's ears flicked back.
Its sparks dimmed—then brightened.
Brightened again.
A soft, rising hum filled the air between them.
Myra froze.
"What are you doing—?"
A crackle ran up the pup's spine and across her arms, not enough to shock her, but enough to stiffen her muscles—like the air itself was tightening around her, holding her body steady.
The System flickered in Aiden's mind, miles behind them:
[BOND PULSE DETECTED]
[Lightning Cub: Active Instinct 'Anchor']
[Target: Myra Lynell]
Aiden snapped awake with a gasp.
His chest heaved. His vision swam. The world leaned sideways. Every muscle felt like wet rope.
But he felt something else.
Myra.
Through the cub.
Through the bond.
A static pulse like a heartbeat.
A surge of fear—not his own.
A sensation of dangling over emptiness.
The tremble of a branch ready to snap.
His eyes widened.
"Myra…"
Nellie whipped toward him. "Aiden? What is it? What's wrong?"
He pushed himself upright with a groan, clutching his chest as lightning flared weakly under his skin. Garrik turned sharply, spear still slick with Duskfang blood.
"You should be unconscious," the hunter snapped. "Don't—"
"She's in trouble," Aiden rasped. "They chased her. The cub—he's responding—he's scared—she's… she's falling."
He didn't fully understand it.
But he felt it.
Every second.
Every spark.
Myra wasn't running anymore.
She was dangling.
Over water.
Alone.
Aiden stood. His legs nearly buckled. Nellie grabbed him desperately, bracing her shoulder under his arm.
"Aiden, you can't—your body—"
He shook her off gently. "She saved him. She took the danger away from us. I'm not letting anything happen to her."
Garrik cursed. "We go after her. Now. Hunters—two flanks. Move!"
"Wait," Aiden said, turning to Nellie. "Stay with the caravan. Keep them safe."
Her lip trembled. "But—"
"Nellie," he whispered, touching her shoulder, "you're brave. Braver than you think. And they need someone who can see wounds before they bleed out."
Her eyes shone—but she nodded.
"Go."
Aiden sprinted after Garrik and the hunters, pushing through fog so thick it tasted like damp stone. His lungs felt like they were filled with lightning, each breath sharp and electric. But he ran.
Because Myra's life pulsed inside his head like a second heartbeat.
—
Myra dangled.
The branch sagged again, the bark beneath her palms tearing under the strain. Mud dripped into the water below, rippling outward like black rings.
The Duskfang across the causeway paced back and forth, calculating the jump.
The one in the water circled.
The third crouched at the channel edge, tongue flicking between its teeth.
They waited for her to fall.
The pup let out a tiny, pained whine, sparks flaring hotter.
"Myra."
Her eyes snapped up.
She wasn't sure if she heard it with her ears or in her head—soft, strained, familiar.
Aiden.
She almost looked for him—but the branch cracked again, stopping her breath cold.
She couldn't afford distraction.
"Come on," she whispered, pulling the pup tighter against her chest. "Come on, Myra. You've gotten out of worse."
The pup's sparks crawled across her wrists again—stronger this time.
A faint, invisible pressure pushed up her arms, like the air beneath her hands was solidifying. She couldn't see it. But she felt it.
"Still cheating," she muttered, breathless. "But thank you."
The branch screamed.
Then it split.
She fell.
Cold exploded up her spine as the world dropped away. Water surged up to greet her—
The pup howled.
Lightning burst.
The water recoiled, forced outward in a thin bubble as Myra dropped through the air. Sparks raced across her cloak, her arms, her chest—weak, flickering, but enough to push her sideways.
She didn't hit the water.
She slammed into a tangled mass of roots instead—hard, but solid. Pain jarred her ribs, her elbow, her shoulder. She tumbled, rolled, and came to a stop on a slick jut of stone half-buried in moss.
She coughed violently, sucking in air.
Still alive.
Barely.
The pup whimpered weakly in her arms, sparks fading, body shaking.
She blinked frantically, trying to orient herself.
The broken causeway lay ten feet above.
The Duskfangs howled, furious as they scrambled to track her new position.
Myra pushed herself up, wincing. "Okay. Okay. Not dead yet."
One of the stalkers found the slope beside the channel—its claws tearing into soggy earth as it began to climb down toward her new perch.
Myra staggered to her feet.
She had nowhere left to run.
Her blade was still in her hand—barely. Her fingers felt numb. Her knees buckled under her weight.
The pup tried to stand in front of her, tiny body crackling weakly.
"No." Myra scooped it back up. "You did enough. Rest."
The stalker reached the bottom of the slope.
It growled—deep, vibrating, hungry.
Myra tightened her grip on her blade. "Then come on."
The Duskfang sprang—
A spear tore through the fog and slammed into its ribcage.
The beast crashed sideways, snarling, pinned against the stone.
Myra gasped.
"Aiden?!"
Boots thundered down the mossy incline. Garrik leaped past the dying stalker, yanking his spear free as he planted himself between her and the next beast.
More shapes emerged from the fog behind him—hunters, breathing hard, weapons raised.
And Aiden.
He stumbled into view, clutching his chest, eyes blazing with faint lightning veins pulsing beneath his skin. He nearly fell when his foot slipped on a patch of wet root—but he caught himself.
"Myra," he breathed.
Her knees almost gave out. "You—idiot—why are you—"
He stepped forward, shaking but upright. "Felt you." He tapped his chest, breath ragged. "Heard you. Through him."
The pup wriggled in her arms at his voice.
The last Duskfang stalker hissed, crouching as lightning sparks danced between Aiden and the pup.
Garrik snarled, shifting forward. "Aiden—stay back—"
"No," Aiden said, voice low.
He took one more step, the bond pulsing between him and the cub.
The Duskfang froze.
Its ears flattened. Its tail lowered. Its pupils shrank to slits.
Aiden's voice vibrated with faint thunder. "She ran to save him. You won't hurt her."
The beast snarled—
—and then abruptly snapped its head toward the fog behind them.
Myra blinked. "What—?"
Aiden stiffened.
The System pulsed:
[New Threat Detected]
[Size: Large]
[Behavior: Ambush]
[Origin: Marsh Depths]
[Warning: Unknown Alpha Approaching]
The water behind Myra swelled.
Slowly.
Silently.
Black ripples fanned outward.
Something massive rose beneath the surface—thick and dark and impossibly wide.
Garrik swore under his breath. "Not now. Not this—"
The marsh bulged.
Then split.
A colossal shape surged upward, water cascading down its hide—scaled, bark-textured, ancient.
Eyes like two sinking suns opened beneath the dripping muck.
The hunters froze.
Myra froze.
Aiden felt lightning crawl up his spine.
Even the Duskfang stalker backed away, whining.
The creature's jaw opened.
Fog lit with faint, ghostly blue deep inside its maw.
Aiden whispered one word.
"…run."