The dense forest pulsed with an eerie life of its own, shadows playing tricks as the sun dipped below the horizon. The chill of the evening air seeped into Aura's skin, but it was nothing compared to the cold dread coiling in her stomach. She crouched low behind the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak, her hand steady on the hilt of her blade. Every muscle in her body tensed as her eyes tracked the man standing nonchalantly in the clearing ahead.
Marcus's silhouette loomed tall against the fading light. His dark coat rippled with each slight breeze, and his posture exuded an infuriating confidence. He flicked a cigarette to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot with deliberate slowness. His voice cut through the stillness, sharp and taunting.
"Aura," he called, a smirk audible in his tone. "Come out, come out, wherever you are. Or has life on the run made you soft?"
