"Zion!" Myr screamed.
She tried to leap from the moving carriage, her hand outstretched to Zion.
But Melvin's strong arms held her back.
"You can't!" Melvin growled. "He's buying us time. If you jump now, you will be wasting his effort!"
Myr punched his chest but Melvin pinned her down.
Bane supported Melvin and prevented Myr from making any attempt to escape.
Tears streamed down Myr's face as the carriage sped deeper into the forest, leaving Zion behind.
---
Zion's chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath. His fingers clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword, his eyes darting to the shadows that weaved into the trees. Glowing red eyes stared back at him—unblinking.
"Come on then," Zion hissed, raising his blade. His heart pounded like a war drum. "Come get me."
The wolves were different from other common wolves. Their hulking forms were nearly his height when on hind legs.
A low growl rumbled from the darkness, and then they moved.
The first wolf lunged from his left, jaws wide.
Zion pivoted, slicing upward. His sword connected with its flank, sending it crashing to the ground with a yelp.
But another wolf was already on him.
Zion's eyes widened as it closed the distance. He barely had time to react, raising his arm to shield himself.
Teeth sank into his forearm. Searing pain shot up his arm.
Zion roared in agony, slamming the hilt of his sword into the wolf's head.
The beast's grip loosened just enough for him to wrench his arm free, blood dripping onto the dirt below.
'They're too many,' he muttered, his breath ragged.
He spun and ran, legs pumping with every ounce of strength he had left.
The wolves chased him, their snarls growing louder behind and beside him.
Zion's mind raced.
He couldn't fight them all. Not like this.
Until he saw something.!
A tree—a massive, gnarled oak just moments before.
It was his only chance.
He didn't hesitate. With a burst of strength, he leaped and caught a low-hanging branch. His arms strained as he pulled himself higher, climbing swiftly until he was well above the wolves' snapping jaws.
Below, they circled, growling and snarling. Their glowing eyes were fixed on him.
One leaped, its claws raking the bark just inches below his feet.
Zion climbed higher until even the boldest wolf abandoned its attempts.
While watching the wolf, he glanced toward the direction where the carriage had passed.
"I hope Myr didn't make any reckless move."
He leaned against a tree to rest, taking a deep breath.
Time passed in a haze.
His arms ached, his eyes burned, and exhaustion tore at his mind.
For hours he remained perched in the tree. Every shadow and sound set his nerves on edge.
The wolves refused to leave. But as dawn's light crept through the canopy, the pack began to retreat.
Zion didn't dare move until the sunset.
One by one, the wolves melted back into the shadows of the forest.
Relief washed over him.
But his body betrayed him.
He'd held on too long.
Sleep-deprived, his strength finally gave out.
He slipped.
The world spun as he tumbled down, branches whipping against him.
He hit the ground with a thud, pain shooting through his side until darkness swallowed him whole.
---
Zion dreamt.
He was back in the village, the sun warm on his face.
Myr stood before him, her laughter bright as she held his hand.
Her smile was everything, and for a moment, peace wrapped around him like a comforting blanket.
Then the world twisted.
Darkness seeped into the scene, blotting out the sun.
Myr's laughter warped into a guttural growl. Her grip on his hand tightened.
It was too tight.
Zion's breath hitched as he looked down.
Her nails dug into his flesh, drawing blood.
Her features twisted, her eyes glowing crimson as her mouth stretched into a horrific grin.
"You said you'd protect me," she hissed.
Before he could respond, her other hand transformed into a claw and slashed down, severing his hand.
Zion screamed as darkness consumed him.
---
Zion awoke to scalding pain.
A sharp tug yanked him back to reality.
Something was biting his hand.
He jerked upright, disoriented and weak.
A creature with glowing eyes, smaller than the wolves but just as vicious, had its teeth buried in his fingers.
Zion roared and swung his fist, smashing it into the beast's skull.
The creature yelped but didn't let go. Its claws raked against his arm.
"Let go of me!"
Desperate, Zion grabbed a nearby rock and brought it down with all his strength.
The beast's grip slackened, and it collapsed, lifeless.
Blood dripped from Zion's mangled hand. Two of his fingers were gone, severed clean.
He clenched his teeth, refusing to scream.
Shakily, he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled toward where his sword lay on the ground.
His vision swam, his head pounding from the fall. He gripped the hilt of his weapon with his good hand, steadying himself.
The forest felt endless as he trudged forward.
Hunger gnawed at his stomach, and every step sent waves of pain through his body.
A fever shot up, and sweat dripped down his face as chills wracked his frame.
Hours passed, though he couldn't tell how many.
Just as he thought his legs would give out, he stumbled upon a small cave nestled against a rocky hill.
It wasn't much, but it was shelter.
Collapsing inside, Zion let out a shaky breath.
His body trembled as he pressed his back against the cool stone.
He needed food. Water. Rest.
But he had none of those things.
He closed his eyes, hoping—praying—that sleep would come.
---
A faint sound stirred him from restless dreams. It was soft, almost unnoticeable.
It was a baby's cry.
Zion's eyes snapped open. He blinked, confused, his fever-addled mind struggling to process.
The sound came again, a high, mournful wail drifting through the forest.
"No…" he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm hearing things."
But the cry came again, louder this time. Zion's heart pounded.
It sounded so real.
Against his better judgment, he pushed himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily.
Gripping his sword, he staggered out of the cave.
The sound led him into the tall grass, the blades swaying in the afternoon breeze.
The crying grew clearer, tugging at some instinct within him.
He had to find it.
The grass parted, revealing a small clearing.
In the center lay a bundle wrapped in tattered cloth.
Zion's breath was caught in his throat and the crying stopped.
He took a cautious step forward, his left grip on the sword tightening.
Something wasn't right.
His fevered mind screamed at him to turn back, but his body moved on its own, drawn to the bundle.
"Is this even real?" Zion muttered in surprise.
As he reached for it, the grass around him rustled.