Alora's POV:
My body freezes without permission.
The growling presence behind me is overwhelmingly terrifying—it almost causes me to hallucinate. Its most certain this creature is evil. My saliva dries up, and my body quivers in raw fear.
The creature has a mind-shattering bloodlust pouring out. I tremble violently. I have never felt anything this intense—not since my mother conceived me.
I painfully accept my faith—Tears slide down my face as I try desperately not to breathe, not to move, not to make a sound. Maybe it'll leave if I gave in to my inability to move and stay still. Maybe it won't notice me.
But my body is betraying me.
Fear wins over me. It's all over, I think to my self.
Turning around to shoot would be pointless—I know how fast this thing is. The thought circles my mind as terror tightens its grip.
Then—
I hear Gunshots!! Damn!! Sounded like salvation to me.
The first one since we arrived in this GOD-forsaken wilderness.
"Shots fired! Shots fired!" Jeff yells over the radio.
Immediately, a voice screams inside my head—shoot.
I spin instantly and fire everything I have.
The beast vanishes in less than a second.
Jeff keeps shooting… then suddenly stops.
I hear him screaming from a distance.
"Ahhhhh!! Fu*ck!!!!" he swore in a voice that sounded like pain, "Somebody—someone please help me!"
"On my way," I scream into the radio as I sprint toward him at full speed.
I find him lying in a pool of blood.
"But—Wh-at…ha-happen ppened?" My voice shakes.
"I saw it," he whispers. I draw closer to hear him clearly, "It stood right before me. A beast like I've never seen before and I shot more rounds—and then I blinked… my arms… my arms!" He didn't need words to tell me they weren't attached to his body anymore.
"Oh Jeff," I say in sympathy as I try holding him up in my arms. Then a voice interrupts from the radio.
"What was it?" The voice demands before continuing. "The General. The Captain. High-ranking officials are listening. Watching."
Jeff passes out before he can answer.
"Sirs," I say quickly, "we need immediate evacuation. We're the only ones left alive. Whatever that thing is, I can't take it down alone. We need to evacuate—now!!—and come back with a plan. We have firsthand experience, but we won't survive another encounter."
I pray they listen.
A voice inside me urges me to leave—now. Loud. Clear.
I lift Jeff into my arms—boom!! I take off.
"Rescue will be there in few minutes," he lieutenant replies.
Only then do I notice the moon.
The area behind me was pitch-black because of the massive trees, choking the sky. But ahead, the forest thins. I push forward blindly.
Everything seems to be a blur—my speed so incredible I find it hard to see.
Tears stream from my eyes—the speed, Jeff's bleeding condition, and the terror. Enough reasons to make you loose your freaking mind.
I burst onto a lonely road leading nowhere I recognize. Looking left and right, I don't have much time to think—I need to act.
"What do I do now?" Panic claws in me.
I send a distress call. "Please someone come get me out of this damn place."
"Rescue is almost there, Sergeant. Stay where you are and await further instructions."
I lay Jeff down, drawing two heavy pistols from my waist strap. Not like I expect it to make any significant difference—small, but able to stall it for a while till rescue arrives.
Was this a setup? The thought creeps in as I scan the entire area desperately.
Trees crash and movement echos in the distance—fast, precise, closing in.
Then suddenly—an sound that was quite far away got too close.
Everything freezes.
My arms move on their own towards its direction.
Realizing I was seeing the dark so clearly without my night vision google. I squint, forcing my eyes to focus. The full moon helps.
I fire—accurate, controlled shots—trying to slow it down.
The recoil flows through my arm and body pushing backwards a bit as bullet shells escape my pistols.
And I finally see it clearly.
A man.
Tall. Silver hair. Naked. Covered in blood. His eyes glows like the moon itself. The face—quite recognizable beauty.
The rescue jet roars overhead.
I can swear on my life I'm not seeing things—with a huge howl, it rips it's flesh violently with huge cracking sounds—it runs behind one of the trees. But the shadows were clear—exposing the beast we were shooting at moments ago.
The jet fires huge shots towards its direction, then flew over us.
It somehow managed to dodge some—dodging bullets from a jet is something I never thought would be possible for it.
I pick Jeffery up, running as fast as my legs could go towards the opposite direction, knowing the jet would turn and head towards me.
I turned back to know how far I had gone from it—it wasn't there. Glancing forward.
But it's ahead of me even with those injuries. Wait. What injuries? Seems to be perfectly fine. It healed?
The realization—my legs went noodles.
My body moves on pure instinct—I pull out my dagger. The same blade I've had since I was a child, the one I trained with until it became part of me. To me, it's as natural as an arm.
I crouch, eyes shut, senses high as f*ck. Every sound. Every shift in air. Every pulse of danger. I give it everything I have—because my life depends on it.
I blast off.
The fastest I've ever moved. I'm already crazy fast—average speed around 50 km/h, record of 80—but this… this is different. Desperation. Adrenaline. Survival.
Dagger clenched in my left hand, I rush forward.
It stands at the edge of the woods, watching me like prey—like it has no intention of leaving that spot.
As I close the distance, it stretches out an arm.
I drop low, twist my body, and swing forward, letting the violence build and take over. I strike—driving the dagger deep into its arm.
Nothing. It doesn't flinch.
The wound seals instantly, flesh knitting around the blade until it's almost buried inside him.
Then it hits me. A massive punch slams into the left side of my abdomen. I reach for my dagger just before the impact sends me flying—past where I dropped Jeff, straight into a tree.
I hit hard.
I cough—no, scoff—blood, forcefully.
Above us, the rescue jet roars through the sky. I did it for one reason only. To stall it. Just long enough for rescue to arrive.
I glance away—
—and when I look back, he's gone.
I'm bleeding too much. Then I hear a rescue helicopter approaching us. My vision goes too blurry to process much.
I'm helped inside. Then the helicopter takes off.
The forest shrinks beneath us, swallowed by darkness again, as if it never existed. Medics shout over the loud helicopter blades. Hands press against my shoulders, my arms, my ribs.
I don't hear them.
Through the open door, the moon hangs low and full.
And for one impossible second—I see him.
Standing at the edge of the huge trees. Still. Watching.
Not chasing. Not hiding.
But waiting.
Then the clouds swallow the forest, and he's gone.
⸻
We arrive at the military base. I look wrecked—filthy, hollow.
I step out of the helicopter and the world tilts.
"I don't feel so good," I whisper. "I don't—"
Everything goes black.
⸻