I had a plan. A reckless, desperate plan, but a plan nonetheless. Killing a Banshee wasn't impossible, but it was tricky—an obvious weakness buried beneath layers of deadly instinct and unnatural agility. The real challenge wasn't whether I could kill it. It was whether I could do it before the others arrived. And let's not fool ourselves—just because I had a plan didn't mean it would work. But there was only one way to find out.
Shadow moved beside me, its form flickering between something solid and something almost liquid, a living void against the dim moonlight. We exchanged no words; none were needed. The moment my foot pushed off the rooftop, we both moved.
A second before its jagged tail could rip my head clean off, Shadow seized my shoulders and hurled me sideways, yanking me out of the Banshee's reach with a force that sent my stomach lurching. I twisted mid-air just in time to see Shadow shift into an intangible mist for half a heartbeat—long enough to let the Banshee's tail pass harmlessly through it—before solidifying and driving its clawed fingers deep into the creature's limb.
Shadow fought like a creature born of war—fast, decisive, ruthless. I could learn from that. But now wasn't the time for self-reflection.
I was still airborne, hurtling toward the Banshee's neck. Victory dangled before me, close enough to taste. All I had to do was—
A limb shot up, grotesquely long and unnaturally jointed. It intercepted me before I could land a hit, sending me spinning. Desperate, I swung my cleaver mid-fall, burying it deep into its arm.
Big mistake.
The Banshee shrieked, an ear-splitting, mind-shattering wail that felt like molten metal being poured into my skull. My vision blurred, my body seized, and for a moment, I couldn't tell if I was still falling or already dead. My hands instinctively clamped over my ears, but it was useless. The sound was inside me, clawing at my brain, threatening to unravel my very existence.
And then, pain.
A blinding impact sent shockwaves through my body as I crashed into a nearby building, the stone wall crumbling around me. Through the ringing in my head, I barely registered the distant thud of Shadow landing somewhere far from me. We were separated.
I let out a choked breath, forcing my aching body to move. Every nerve screamed in protest, but I couldn't afford to stay down. Not when another Banshee was already sprinting toward me, its claws scraping against the concrete like nails on glass.
"Curses," I muttered through gritted teeth, pushing myself up and bolting through the ruined structure. My vision swam, my balance wavered, but I kept running, weaving through broken furniture and debris while the Banshee simply tore through everything in its path.
A shudder ran down my spine. It was fast. Faster than I'd anticipated.
The moment I reached a narrow hallway, I skidded to a halt and ducked, just in time for the creature to leap over me.
A smirk tugged at my lips—
Then something coiled around my waist.
Before I could react, its tail yanked me off my feet, hurling me straight toward it. We crashed through another wall, tumbling into an adjacent building. Dust filled the air, mixing with the coppery taste of blood in my mouth. I had barely a second to process the impact before the Banshee was already stirring, rising with a slow, bone-popping movement.
I was faster.
With a grunt, I forced my battered body up and lunged for the exit, leaping through a shattered window onto a lower rooftop. My breath came in ragged gasps. My muscles burned. But I had no time to rest—another Banshee was already closing in.
Then another.
And another.
They weren't just after me. They were hunting me.
A chill crept down my spine as realization set in. I wasn't escaping. I was being cornered.
I turned, just in time to see the first Banshee drop onto the roof behind me. Its grotesque form casting a twisted shadow in the moonlight, neck gaping in anticipation. I clenched my jaw, gripping my cleaver tighter.
This was it.
I braced myself, preparing for one last fight, when—
Flames erupted.
Three of the creatures, clustered together in a frenzy, were suddenly engulfed in fire.
The world ignited in a hellish glow, the inferno casting long, flickering shadows against the night. The Banshees' shrieks split the air, more horrifying than ever, drilling into my skull with the force of a thousand daggers. Instinct took over.
I dropped to my knees, clutching my head as raw agony tore through me. It felt like my brain was melting, like my very existence was unraveling thread by thread. I barely registered the taste of blood as I bit down on my tongue, desperate to stay conscious.
I was dying.
No.
I wasn't just dying. I was being erased.
My vision darkened. My body went limp.
And then—
Hands.
Strong, familiar hands scooped me up, carrying me away from the chaos. The world blurred, distant and distorted, but I felt them. A touch that was oddly familiar. Like my own.
Because it was my own.
Shadow.
It had set the Banshees ablaze. It had nearly killed me.
And yet, at the last moment, it had saved me.