The forest seemed alive with eyes.
Every crack of a branch underfoot, every rustle of leaves in the upper boughs sent jolts through Ahayue's body. Alusya clung to his cloak as they moved, her breath quick but steady, trying to match his pace. Neither of them spoke. Words would carry. Words would betray their position.
Behind them, the drumbeat of pursuit thudded in the soil—footfalls, light at first, then heavier, multiplying. The tribe had sent more than a scouting party. They had come in force.
Ahayue paused at a ridge and sniffed the air. Even through the lingering scent of pine resin and damp earth, he could taste smoke—burned torches, carried by men hunting them. His curse flared inside him, a low growl of heat gnawing at the bones of his spine. It wanted release. It wanted to devour those who pursued.
But Andalusia's voice still whispered in his memory: Control is strength, Ahayue. Never let the curse guide your hand without your will.
He turned to Alusya, her face pale but defiant. "We keep moving," he whispered. "No matter what, don't stop."
She nodded, clutching the small satchel of dried meat and herbs they had salvaged before leaving the cave. Her eyes darted toward the shadows. "They're close, aren't they?"
Ahayue gave no answer. He simply began descending the slope, his boots silent on moss, his movements precise from years of training with Andalusia. Alusya followed, smaller, lighter, her footsteps almost inaudible. For a moment, Ahayue thought she might prove harder for the hunters to track than him.
But then came the howl.
A wolf's call—long, shrill, and unnatural. Not wild. A signal. The tribe had trained wolves as trackers.
Alusya froze, clutching his cloak again. Her lips trembled. "Wolves…"
Ahayue's mind raced. The pack would circle them, driving them toward the warriors. A perfect trap.
"Stay behind me," he said, voice low, steel in the words.
They pressed on, weaving through the undergrowth. The moon slid out from clouds, bathing the forest in silver light. Ahayue wished it hadn't; now their shadows danced long and visible across the ground.
Soon the underbrush thinned, and the terrain opened into a stone-strewn hollow where skeletal pines clung to rocky soil. Too exposed. Too open. He cursed under his breath.
"Ahayue," Alusya whispered, clutching her satchel tighter. "We can't outrun them, can we?"
"No." His eyes scanned the terrain, noting the ridges, the broken trunks, the faint shimmer of water in the distance. "But we can outwit them."
The first wolf came silently, teeth flashing in the moonlight. Ahayue's blade was already out, a curved short-sword forged in Andalusia's hidden forge. He met the leap with a slash, catching fur and flesh. The beast yelped and twisted away, blood dark on the stone.
Three more emerged from the shadows. Behind them, torchlight flared—the warriors had arrived.
"Run to the stream!" Ahayue barked at Alusya. "Now!"
She sprinted, darting between boulders, her small figure swallowed by the shadows. Ahayue faced the wolves head-on, curse-fire licking at his veins, begging release. He swung, parried, drove the beasts back, but each step cost him time. The torches grew closer, voices rising in chants of vengeance.
One wolf lunged at his side, jaws snapping for his throat. He caught it mid-air, muscles straining, and slammed it to the ground. The curse flared in his palm—dark flame erupting from his skin. The wolf shrieked, its fur igniting, body twisting before falling limp.
The fire seared Ahayue's own hand. He clenched his jaw, forcing the curse back. Andalusia's warning echoed: Each time you burn, you shorten the years left to you.
No choice now. Survival first.
He sprinted after Alusya, lungs burning, shadows dancing wildly as torchlight spread through the hollow. Stones rolled beneath his boots, sending him half-stumbling, but he forced himself onward. He caught sight of Alusya kneeling by the stream, frantically splashing water on her face. Relief surged through him—she had made it.
Then arrows hissed past.
One embedded in the tree beside her head. Another skimmed the surface of the stream, vanishing in a hiss of water.
"Down!" Ahayue roared. He tackled her into the mud just as a third arrow whistled overhead.
The warriors burst into view—half a dozen, painted in ash and blood, eyes wild with tribal rage. At their head strode a man whose tattoos curled like black fire across his arms and face. He carried no bow—only a heavy spear tipped with bone sharpened to a cruel point.
Ahayue recognized him instantly. He had seen that face before, years ago, when Andalusia had still been alive. This was no ordinary warrior. This was their war-leader. The one who had ordered Andalusia's death.
His blood boiled. The curse surged higher, whispering, Take him. Burn him. End him.
But Alusya's hand clutched his wrist, trembling. "Ahayue—don't leave me."
He breathed once, twice. The rage bent to will. He rose slowly, keeping himself between her and the warriors.
The war-leader sneered. "The witch's spawn lives," he spat, his voice low and venomous. "She should have burned long ago. And you—boy cursed by demons—you should never have drawn breath."
Ahayue gripped his blade tighter. "If you seek her vengeance," he said coldly, "you'll find only your own death here."
The warriors roared, beating their chests, slamming spears on stone. The wolves circled tighter.
The hunt was no longer pursuit. It was battle.
The clash erupted in fire and blood.
The first warrior lunged. Ahayue sidestepped, cutting low, slicing through tendons. The man collapsed, screaming. Another came with an overhead strike; Ahayue parried, twisted, slammed the hilt into the man's temple. Bones cracked.
But they were many, and he was only one.
The wolves darted in, snapping at his legs. He kicked one aside, sliced another across the muzzle, but his arms grew heavy, his chest heaving. The curse wanted free. It clawed at his insides.
He risked a glance—Alusya crouched by the stream, clutching a jagged stone like a weapon, eyes wide but fierce. She would not run. Not again.
The war-leader moved at last, striding forward with his spear. He thrust low, fast, with practiced precision. Ahayue barely deflected it, the blow glancing his ribs, tearing cloth and flesh. Pain shot through him.
The man smiled, a grin of hate. "Weak. Just like her in the end."
Something in Ahayue snapped.
Dark fire exploded from his arm, coursing down the blade. He struck with inhuman force, sparks erupting as steel met bone spear. The cursed flame licked the war-leader's tattoos, burning them blacker still. The man howled but pressed harder, strength monstrous, fed by his own painted rites.
Ahayue faltered, knees nearly buckling. His curse screamed to consume, to unleash fully, to burn them all to ash. He clenched his teeth until blood filled his mouth.
And then—Alusya's voice.
"Ahayue! Behind you!"
He twisted just in time. An arrow streaked toward his skull. He ducked. The shaft grazed his hair, embedding in stone.
The distraction cost the war-leader his chance. Ahayue surged forward with all his strength, shoulder-slamming the man back. The cursed fire flared once more, blinding, and when it dimmed, the war-leader staggered with half his tattoos seared away, smoke curling from his flesh.
But he still lived. And he still smiled.
"This hunt," he rasped, "is only beginning."
He barked a signal. At once, the warriors retreated into the trees, wolves vanishing with them as if swallowed by night.
Ahayue stood trembling, his blade dripping, curse-fire slowly dimming. His lungs burned. His side bled.
Alusya ran to him, eyes full of terror and relief. "Ahayue—you're hurt—"
He cut her off with a shake of his head. His gaze lingered on the shadows where the war-leader had vanished.
"They'll come again," he muttered. "And next time, not just for vengeance. They'll come to finish it."
Alusya swallowed hard, gripping his hand. "Then… where do we go?"
Ahayue looked past the stream, toward the endless dark of the forest beyond. His curse whispered of paths hidden in shadow, of enemies waiting at every turn.
But he also heard Andalusia's voice again, faint but steady: The world will not stop testing you, Ahayue. But you are not alone anymore.
He squeezed Alusya's hand. "Far from here," he said. "As far as it takes."
The forest wind rose, carrying the faint scent of smoke and blood. The hunt was not over. It had only begun.