The forest was silent, save for the rustling of leaves as Ash pushed through the undergrowth. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his legs aching from running. The ruins were far behind him now, but he couldn't shake the feeling that someone—or something—was still following him.
The shard in his palm remained faintly warm, its glow hidden beneath the folds of his cloak. Every so often, it pulsed, like a reminder that it was still there, still watching.
Ash finally stopped when he reached a small clearing. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting pale light over the moss-covered ground. He sank to his knees, trying to catch his breath.
"Why are you running?" The voice in his mind was back, calm and curious. It wasn't the mocking tone from before. Now, it felt almost… patient.
Ash pressed his hand against his temple, as if that could block the voice out. "Leave me alone," he muttered.
"You're wasting time," the voice continued. "Do you really think you can outrun them? They'll come for you. They always will."
Ash clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I didn't ask for this," he said through gritted teeth. "I didn't ask for you."
"You didn't have to," the voice replied. "You were chosen. The shard chose you because you're worthy of its power."
Ash shook his head, refusing to listen. He didn't want the power. He didn't want any of this. All he wanted was to live quietly, away from the chaos that the shards always brought. But now…
His thoughts were interrupted by a distant sound—a low, guttural growl that made his blood run cold. He froze, his ears straining to catch it again.
There it was. A rustling in the bushes, followed by the unmistakable sound of something large moving through the forest.
Ash scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding. He reached for the dagger at his belt, the only weapon he had, though he knew it wouldn't be much use.
The growling grew louder, closer. And then, from the shadows, a creature emerged.
It was unlike anything Ash had ever seen. Its body was twisted and unnatural, a grotesque combination of fur, scales, and jagged bone. Its eyes glowed with an eerie green light, and its claws dug into the ground as it stalked toward him.
"A shardborn," the voice in his mind said, almost reverent. "A beast corrupted by the power of a shard. Its strength rivals even the greatest warriors. You cannot fight it alone."
Ash took a step back, his hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger. "Great," he muttered. "Just what I needed."
The shardborn let out a deafening roar and lunged. Ash barely had time to throw himself to the side, the creature's claws tearing through the air where he had been standing.
He rolled to his feet, his mind racing. The shard in his palm flared to life, its glow illuminating the clearing. The shardborn hesitated, its glowing eyes narrowing as it fixed its gaze on Ash.
"It senses the shard," the voice said. "It wants it. It will not stop until it has consumed you."
Ash didn't need the reminder. He darted to the side as the creature charged again, its claws ripping through a nearby tree trunk like it was paper.
"Use the shard," the voice urged. "You cannot defeat it otherwise. Let me guide you."
"No," Ash hissed, his teeth clenched. "I'm not giving in to you."
The shardborn roared again, its massive body barreling toward him. Ash's instincts screamed at him to move, but he was too slow. The creature's claw slashed toward him, and he braced for impact—
—but the shard reacted first.
A burst of energy erupted from Ash's palm, forming a glowing barrier that deflected the attack. The force of it sent the shardborn stumbling back, snarling in frustration.
Ash stared at his hand in shock. The barrier flickered and disappeared, but the shard's light remained. The voice in his mind laughed softly.
"You see? This power is yours. Stop fighting it."
The shardborn recovered quickly, its movements more cautious now as it circled him. Ash knew he couldn't keep this up. He didn't know how to control the shard's power, and the creature wasn't going to give him time to figure it out.
His mind raced. He needed a plan, something—anything—to get out of this alive.
Then he noticed the trees surrounding the clearing. Their trunks were thick and sturdy, but some of the branches overhead were loose and heavy. If he could lure the shardborn to the right spot…
Ash took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his dagger. "Come on," he muttered.
The shardborn growled, its glowing eyes locked on him. Then it charged, faster than before.
Ash darted toward one of the trees, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the creature gaining on him, its massive claws tearing through the ground.
At the last second, he spun around and threw his dagger. The blade struck one of the loose branches, dislodging it just as the shardborn lunged.
The branch came crashing down, striking the creature and pinning it to the ground. The shardborn roared in fury, thrashing against the weight of the wood, but it couldn't free itself.
Ash didn't wait to see if it would break free. He turned and ran, the shard's light guiding him through the forest.
As he ran, the voice in his mind was quiet. But Ash could feel its presence, waiting, watching.
He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up. But for now, he was alive. And that was all that mattered.