The forest loomed like an endless maze as Alexander darted between the trees, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Every shadow seemed alive, every rustling leaf a predator waiting to pounce. The fiery Essence within him pulsed wildly, as though reacting to his fear.
"Don't stop," he told himself, forcing his legs to keep moving. His heart pounded in his chest, but the sound of shouting and clashing steel behind him urged him forward.
Kaelith's words echoed in his mind: "Run. Don't stop until I catch up."
But could she really handle all those hunters on her own? He wanted to go back, to help her somehow, but the reality was painfully clear: he'd only get in her way.
The satchel she had thrust into his hands swung against his side as he ran. He hadn't even checked its contents. All that mattered now was putting as much distance between himself and the outpost as possible.
Back at the outpost, Kaelith stood amidst the chaos, her spear a blur of motion. Blood splattered the ground as hunters fell one by one, their overconfidence no match for her skill.
Dren circled her warily, his cruel smile replaced with a scowl. The orange-furred Essence beast at his side growled low, its glowing eyes locked onto Kaelith.
"You've made a mistake," Dren said, tightening his grip on his twin axes. "Protecting that boy won't end well for you."
Kaelith smirked, her golden eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "Funny. I was just about to say the same to you."
With a roar, the Essence beast lunged at her. Kaelith spun to the side, her spear striking out like a viper. The tip glanced off the beast's tough hide, but she used the momentum to vault over its back, landing gracefully behind it.
Dren was on her in an instant, his axes slicing through the air. Kaelith met his assault head-on, her spear deflecting his strikes with a series of sharp clangs. The two warriors moved like dancers, their movements precise and deadly.
But even Kaelith couldn't fight forever. More hunters emerged from the surrounding buildings, their weapons glinting in the firelight.
She glanced toward the forest, her expression grim. "You'd better keep running, boy," she muttered under her breath.
Alexander's lungs burned as he stumbled through the forest, the underbrush clawing at his legs. He risked a glance over his shoulder but saw nothing. No hunters. No Kaelith. Just the oppressive darkness of the woods.
He slowed to a walk, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "Where... where am I supposed to go?" he muttered, looking around helplessly.
The satchel bumped against his side again, and he finally opened it. Inside was a small vial filled with a shimmering blue liquid, a rolled-up map, and a knife with a jagged blade.
The map caught his attention first. He spread it out on the forest floor, his eyes scanning the rough markings. It wasn't detailed, but it showed a path leading from the outpost to a nearby river. Beyond the river was a symbol—a sunburst surrounded by a circle.
"What's this supposed to mean?" Alexander wondered aloud.
Before he could think further, the sound of snapping branches reached his ears. He froze, his heart racing.
Then he heard it: a low, guttural growl.
Slowly, Alexander turned. A pair of glowing red eyes stared back at him from the shadows.
Kaelith's spear struck true, piercing the heart of another hunter. She yanked it free, spinning to block Dren's axe as it swung toward her head.
"You're running out of friends," she taunted, her voice steady despite the battle.
Dren snarled, stepping back to regroup. "And you're running out of time. That boy can't outrun us forever. The forest isn't kind to the weak."
Kaelith smirked, blood dripping from the tip of her spear. "Maybe. But he's not as weak as you think."
Her confidence didn't waver, but inside, she was beginning to worry. She could handle these hunters, but Alexander was on his own out there. If he ran into trouble...
No. She pushed the thought aside. He would have to manage. She had taught him enough to survive—at least for a little while.
Dren charged again, his axes swinging wildly. Kaelith ducked under one strike, her spear darting out to slice his leg. He stumbled, cursing, but his Essence beast leapt to his defense.
Kaelith spun away from its snapping jaws, her mind racing. She couldn't keep this up much longer.
Alexander clutched the knife tightly, his hands trembling as the creature stepped into the moonlight. It was a wolf-like beast, its body sleek and muscular, with black fur that seemed to absorb the light. Red Essence swirled around its paws, leaving scorch marks on the ground with every step.
The beast growled again, its eyes locked on him.
Alexander's mind screamed at him to run, but his legs wouldn't move. He raised the knife, the fiery Essence in his core flaring in response to the beast's presence.
"Stay back," he said, his voice shaking.
The wolf didn't listen. It lunged, its jaws snapping at him. Alexander dove to the side, the knife slashing out instinctively. He felt the blade connect, a streak of blood appearing on the wolf's side.
The beast yelped, but it recovered quickly, circling him with renewed aggression.
Alexander's breath came in ragged gasps as he faced the creature. He couldn't outrun it. He couldn't overpower it. But maybe...
He closed his eyes, focusing on the fiery Essence within him. He had felt its power during the fight with the Hornback. If he could just harness it again...
The wolf charged, its claws raking the air.
Alexander opened his eyes, his body moving on instinct. The Essence flared, his knife glowing with a faint orange light. He sidestepped the wolf's attack and drove the blade into its neck.
The beast let out a strangled howl, collapsing to the ground.
Alexander stared at its lifeless body, his hands still trembling. He had won. Somehow, he had won.
But there was no time to celebrate. The sounds of shouting and footsteps were drawing closer.
He grabbed the map and the satchel, his gaze turning toward the river marked on the parchment. It was his only chance.
Without looking back, he ran deeper into the forest, the weight of the battle—and the hunters still pursuing him—pressing heavily on his shoulders.