The forest was not silent.
Even as the rebels moved swiftly through the undergrowth, every rustling branch, every distant howl of wind set Renna's nerves on edge.
She had felt this before—this creeping, unnatural tension.
They were being hunted.
Dain led the group through a winding ravine, guiding them toward the hidden valley where the Freeborn had made camp. He kept a steady pace, but Renna could tell he felt it too. The weight of unseen eyes pressing against them.
Mara moved beside her, grip tight on her bow. "How long?" she murmured.
Renna didn't ask what she meant. "Since the ruins."
Mara's expression darkened. "Then we should assume we're already trapped."
Kieran, just ahead of them, turned his head slightly. "Trapped? I don't see any traps, unless you count our complete exhaustion and lack of backup."
Mara glared. "You never take anything seriously."
Kieran smirked, but it didn't quite reach their eyes. "I take survival seriously. And if we're already caught, might as well enjoy the walk."
Renna ignored their bickering. Her focus was on the air around them. It was too still. Not even the usual night creatures stirred.
That was when she felt it.
A flicker of movement—not ahead, but behind.
Renna spun, drawing her dagger. The others reacted instantly, weapons raised—
But the forest was empty.
Nothing but trees, shifting shadows, and the echo of their own breathing.
Dain's eyes scanned the darkness. "What is it?"
Renna hesitated. She could have sworn…
Then—
A whisper. A low, inhuman sound curling through the trees.
Mara tensed. "That's not the wind."
Renna's grip on her dagger tightened.
She had heard that sound before.
Not in the Empire. Not in the wilds. But in the dungeons beneath the Iron Council's towers.
She barely had time to react before the shadows moved.
---
The Hound Unleashed
The attack came from the darkness itself.
A figure—blurred, unnatural, wrong—shot from the trees, moving with an inhuman grace.
The first rebel barely had time to scream before a blade sliced his throat open.
Blood sprayed. The others scattered.
Renna caught only glimpses—a figure clad in shifting black, their face hidden beneath a smooth, featureless mask. No armor, no heavy footsteps—only the whisper of cloth against the wind.
Then it was gone.
No sound. No movement. Just emptiness where it had stood.
Dain swore. "Hound."
Renna's stomach turned to ice.
The Iron Hounds weren't just assassins. They were experiments. The Empire's answer to the problem of disobedience.
Once, long ago, Renna had seen a prisoner dragged into the labs beneath the Council's tower. She had never seen them again. But she had heard what they became.
Kieran cursed under his breath. "Tell me we can kill that."
Renna swallowed. "If we're lucky."
Another whisper.
Renna threw herself sideways just as a blade sliced through the space where her heart had been. She hit the ground and rolled, barely catching sight of the attacker—
Still masked. Still moving like smoke given form.
But now, she saw the mark on its wrist. A rune, burning red.
A brand of servitude.
Just like the one that had once been on her skin.
Rage flared in her chest.
She was done running.
She launched forward.
Steel met steel as her dagger clashed against the Hound's blade. The force of the impact nearly drove her to her knees, but she held firm.
The Hound cocked its head, almost… curious.
Then it pressed harder.
Renna gritted her teeth, muscles straining. The others were moving, circling—Dain was already barking orders, but Renna barely heard them.
This thing had once been human. She could see it in the precision of its movements, the echoes of training behind its strikes.
But there was no will behind its actions.
No hesitation. No fear.
Renna had been like this once.
She refused to let it happen again.
With a snarl, she twisted her blade free, shifting into a low stance. The Hound moved to counter—
And then Kieran lunged from the side, twin daggers flashing.
Steel met flesh.
For the first time, the Hound staggered.
It wasn't much. Just a flicker of hesitation. But it was enough.
Renna struck.
Her dagger drove deep into the rune on the Hound's wrist.
The reaction was instant.
The sigil flared—not with power, but with pain.
The Hound let out a soundless scream and recoiled, its entire form flickering like a dying flame.
For the first time, Renna saw its humanity.
Just a moment. A flicker of something behind that smooth, empty mask.
And then—
It vanished.
The forest was silent once more.
---
The Aftermath
No one spoke for several breaths.
Then Kieran exhaled, still gripping his daggers. "Okay. So we can hurt it."
Mara scowled. "We didn't kill it."
Dain ran a hand through his hair. "No. But we slowed it."
Renna glanced down at her dagger, now coated in strange, blackened blood. The rune on the Hound's wrist had cracked where she struck it.
A weakness.
She sheathed her blade. "It will come back."
Dain nodded grimly. "Then we need to be ready."
The rebels gathered themselves, pushing forward once more. The valley wasn't far. Safety—for now.
But as Renna walked, she couldn't shake the image from her mind.
The moment before the Hound vanished—
When its mask had cracked ever so slightly.
And beneath it, she had seen the ghost of a human face.
A face she almost recognized.
***
The rebels reached the hidden valley just before dawn.
The camp was nestled between jagged cliffs, its entrances concealed by thick underbrush and natural rock formations. The scent of damp earth and smoldering campfires filled the air as sentries on the perimeter spotted them and gave the signal.
Dain led the group forward, past weary-eyed lookouts who recognized the urgency in his stride. The Iron Hound was still out there, and everyone needed to be warned.
Renna's body ached with exhaustion, but her mind refused to rest. She couldn't forget the way the Hound had hesitated—how, for just a flicker of a moment, she had seen a face beneath the mask.
A face she knew.
She tried to push it aside as they entered the main encampment, where dozens of rebel fighters were already gathering. The news of their mission had spread fast.
An older woman with graying hair and a commanding presence strode toward them—Captain Vaelen, leader of the Freeborn. Her sharp eyes swept over the returning group, lingering on their injuries and missing numbers.
She didn't waste time. "Report."
Dain handed her the sigil stone fragment. "We got this, but the main artifact was already moved. The mission was compromised. The Council sent an Enforcer to guard it—and worse, they've set a Hound on our trail."
A ripple of unease passed through the gathered rebels. Vaelen's face darkened.
"How long before it finds us?" she asked.
Renna spoke before Dain could. "It already has."
Silence.
Vaelen studied her. "And it let you live?"
Renna hesitated. "Not by choice. We wounded it. It retreated."
Vaelen frowned, as if weighing something heavy in her mind. "A Hound doesn't retreat unless it's forced to."
Renna exhaled, heart pounding. She had to ask.
"This one… it was different." She forced the words out. "I saw its face."
Vaelen's gaze snapped to her. "And?"
Renna hesitated. The memory was too fleeting, too unclear. But deep down, she already knew the truth.
The Hound was someone she had once fought beside.
Someone she had lost.
Someone the Empire had taken.
"I need to see the records," Renna said, voice steady. "The ones on missing Freeborn operatives."
Vaelen's expression was unreadable. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Get some rest first," she ordered. "Then we'll talk."
Renna wanted to protest, but the weight of exhaustion finally hit her. Her body ached, her thoughts swam. She knew Vaelen was right.
But as she walked toward her tent, one thought burned in her mind.
If the Hound was truly someone from her past…
Then saving them might be impossible.
But she had to try.