Naleera's scream still hung in the air as she collapsed, clutching what remained of her shoulder. The mercenaries—moments ago bickering about their next move—now stood caught between shock and a grim sense of duty. They had faced predators before, even tangling with rival soldiers on occasion, but this felt different. Wrong. Too large and too vicious. Still, they hesitated only for a breath. Then Zaher took the lead.
"Form up!" he barked, stepping over Naleera's trembling form. He raised his sword in what should have been a confident salute, but the quiver in his wrist betrayed him. Bazhir and Quadir moved to flank Zaher, circling wide to surround the hulking creature. Samir hovered closer to Eujal at the back, eyes darting left and right as if expecting another nightmare to lunge from the darkness.
The balakai swung its horn, carving a shallow trench in the earth. Its jaws, wet with blood, snapped at the air, stirring the smell of copper and rot into the cold night. Mulaz, face set in a determined grimace, rushed forward to jab at the beast's flank with his sword. It was a daring move—calculated and almost confident. But the sword's tip glanced off thick scales, and the balakai retaliated with a swipe of its forelimb that sent Mulaz reeling. He fell hard against a nearby tree, breath knocked clean from his lungs.
Zaher swore under his breath. He stepped in with a slash aimed just behind the creature's horn, but met the same impenetrable hide. Sparks flew from the collision of metal on scale. The balakai lashed out with its tail, forcing Zaher to roll aside, his sword arm scraped raw by jagged stones. He looked up, panting, eyes flaring with a mixture of anger and the first real flickers of fear.
"Damn thing's hide is like iron," Bazhir hissed. He spun around the monster, slashing and feinting to draw its attention. It worked—for a moment. The beast turned and roared, a guttural sound that raked every nerve. But then it shifted, pivoting faster than Bazhir expected, and slammed him in the ribs with its horn. Bazhir landed on his back, wheezing. Quadir sprinted over to help him up, but the balakai was there first, rearing back and crashing down with its front claws. Eujal heard the sickening snap before he even registered Quadir's scream.
Everything unraveled. Whatever ragged coordination they had was gone, replaced by frantic shouts and flailing weapons. Samir gripped his sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. He caught the balakai's haunch with a desperate thrust, only for the blade to skid off and wrench his wrist. Samir stumbled back, eyes darting to Zaher as if hoping for an order—any plan to make sense of this. But Zaher could only watch as the beast rammed forward again, forcing Samir to dive away from its snapping jaws.
Eujal stood paralyzed at the edge of the clearing, heart hammering. He'd seen these men hold off raiders, take down dire wolves, even stand their ground against Asir soldiers. Now they were little more than prey, scattered and panicked. Naleera lay motionless where the fight had begun, blood soaking the forest floor. Mulaz, half-conscious, tried to drag himself out of harm's way, but the balakai stomped and twisted, cutting off any chance of escape.
Zaher launched himself at the beast's side, swinging a last, powerful strike aimed at the gap between its armor-like scales. His sword bit slightly deeper this time, drawing a coarse, wet sound from the creature. But the balakai whipped its horn around, catching Zaher in the ribs. He managed to keep hold of his sword, but blood ran from his mouth as he staggered to one knee.
In that desperate instant, Eujal noticed the balakai shaking its head, as though trying to locate its next target by sound instead of sight. Its small, murky eyes didn't follow Zaher's movement well, missing him by a span of inches as the captain lurched away. Eujal's breath caught in his throat. It can't see clearly.
He glanced at the nearest tree—a towering oak with low branches that stretched overhead like a dark web. It was a slim chance. But it was the only chance. He forced his legs to move, ignoring the searing pain in his injured arm, and sprinted for the trunk.
Behind him, Zaher tried to stand once more. The balakai's roar drowned out whatever order the captain was about to give. Another strike—and then a sudden silence. Eujal didn't turn around. He didn't want to see what was left of Zaher. He threw himself at the oak, scrambling up the rough bark, nearly losing his grip on the first branch when his wounded arm buckled. Teeth gritted, he hauled himself higher.
Below, the balakai thrashed amid the carnage, trying to sniff out the last living foe. It snorted and growled, circling the clearing as if confused by the sudden lack of movement. Up in the tree, Eujal pressed his body tight to the trunk, fighting the urge to sob or scream—anything that would betray his position.
A shallow, ragged breath escaped him as he watched the beast wander among the bodies, nudging them with its horn. Eventually, it lumbered away through the undergrowth, leaving behind nothing but broken shapes and spilt blood. Still, Eujal clung to the tree, sweat freezing on his skin in the night air, tears burning in his eyes.
He remained there, alone, until the first hint of dawn.