"Finally," Carmilla sighed, wings beating one last time before she dropped from the sky. The cold air rushed past her as she landed atop a jagged stone outcropping. Her eyes, which had burned blood-red moments before, slowly faded back to their natural golden hue.
She crouched low, breathing hard. For the first time in ten days, the air didn't reek of orc musk.
A ripple of shadow stretched along the stone beside her. Then, from the darkness, a tall figure emerged—slender, quiet, her long hair flowing like silk in the wind.
Mia stepped forward, her catlike ears twitching faintly. Though her expression remained calm, her skin was pale, the faintest tremor beneath the stoicism.
Carmilla straightened and asked, "Are you all right?"
The question came out softer than she intended. They had been hunted for days—ten long, relentless nights since the orc pack from Ten Thousand Demons City had picked up their scent.
