In the darkened forest, an uneasy quiet had settled, as every creature seemed to sense the impending storm.
Humidity hung thickly in the air, stifling and dense, like the forest itself was holding its breath.
Lyra moved like a shadowed predator, leaping silently from branch to branch.
She was close now, but a sharp, metallic scent began to fill the air—fresh blood.
Fifteen slung over her shoulder, gasped as each jolt sent pain rippling through her body, yet she managed a ragged laugh. "Too late—they're all dead."
Fifteen's hand clawed into Lyra's arm, leaving bloody smears across her skin.
Ignoring the taunt, Lyra pushed aside a thick wall of branches, and what she saw next made her pause.
"Got her, did you?" Valeria's voice broke through the silence.
