Snow and blood had blended into a blur beneath Kael's boots as he stumbled through the half-frozen clearing, the weight of his own breath dragging him down. Each inhale burned his throat, sharp and cold, each exhale a ghost fading too fast.
The Wendigo's laughter — soft, broken, childlike — echoed from above.
"You tire… why fight what you can't escape?"
Kael's sword dragged through the snow as he turned, senses stretched to the brink. His jacket was torn, ribs aching from where the creature had slammed him into a tree minutes earlier. His right arm trembled, slick with blood that had already started to freeze.
He didn't see it move.
He only felt it — a shadow splitting from the treeline, a blur on all fours.
Kael barely managed to roll aside as it landed where he'd stood, claws slicing a clean trench through the snow. The impact made the ground crack with frost. Its tails whipped outward — one slicing low, the other arcing overhead — forcing Kael to block, pivot, and barely keep his footing.
He couldn't breathe right.
Every motion of the creature seemed effortless, joyful — its movements too clean, too practiced.
He slashed upward, aiming for the joint of its tail — a move he'd rehearsed a thousand times in training. The blade connected, cutting deep — but the creature twisted its spine mid-motion, tearing free before he could press the advantage. The wound sealed almost instantly with a hiss of vapor.
Kael stumbled back. His mind screamed at him to run. His body refused.
"Still standing?" it said, circling him, voice bright as a child's, eyes hollow. "You humans… you think pain means you're alive. It's funny."
"Shut up," Kael spat, steadying his breath.
The Wendigo crouched low, its tails spreading behind it like wings of ice. "Do you know what dying felt like?"
Its tone shifted — soft, almost curious. "Cold. So cold my mind stopped caring. Then came hunger… and it felt like love."
It lunged again.
Kael's blade met its claws in an explosion of sound — the clang of steel on bone echoing through the forest. He parried, ducked under a tail, drove his knee up into the creature's chest, then spun for a counter — but its second tail snapped around his ankle, yanking him off balance.
He hit the snow hard.
The air left his lungs.
The creature pounced — claws pinning him down, fangs bared. Kael shoved his sword up in defense, the edge pressing against its throat. Frost crawled down the blade, the cold biting into his skin even through his gloves.
"You fight well," it said, smiling through sharp teeth. "You'd make a beautiful monster."
Kael gritted his teeth and kicked upward, twisting his body to the side. The tail missed his ribs by an inch, slamming into the ground beside him. He rolled free, dragging his sword up and across its shoulder. It screamed — the sound inhuman and echoing — but still didn't fall.
It only laughed.
"You can't save them," it whispered. "They were bait. You're all just meat to them."
Kael froze for a heartbeat. Them?
But before he could think, it lunged again — claws flashing.
This time he couldn't dodge fully.
One claw raked across his side, tearing through fabric and flesh. Heat flared — then cold — as his blood froze where it spilled.
He staggered, vision flickering, pain screaming through his ribs.
He heard it move again — fast, animalistic, closing the distance. He raised his sword out of instinct, blocking another blow, then another, the rhythm of survival taking over thought.
But the pattern was breaking — his parries slower, footwork sloppier, his breaths coming ragged.
"You're slowing down, hunter," it said, voice like a lullaby. "I can fix that. I can make you free."
Kael's sword trembled. His body screamed for oxygen.
Still, he lifted the blade, meeting its eyes.
"Come and try."
The Wendigo grinned — and attacked.
Snow erupted. Trees splintered.
Kael was a blur of defense and desperation, sparks flaring from each strike. He barely kept his balance as it drove him backward, one hit after another, the sheer force of it numbing his arms.
A final strike sent him crashing through a frozen log. He rolled, breathless, barely catching himself before the next tail smashed into the spot he'd landed. His side throbbed, his hands burned, his vision blurred red.
He wasn't winning.
He wasn't supposed to win.
Still, he rose.
Blood dripped from his jaw, steam rising from his breath. He reset his stance, sword pointed low, shoulders squared. His chest rose and fell with controlled fury.
The Wendigo tilted its head, watching him — almost… amused.
"You're dying," it whispered. "Why not make it easy?"
Kael smiled through the blood. "Because I'm still standing."
And he charged again.
The forest filled with the clash of steel and bone — a sound that swallowed the night.
---
[Two hours earlier]
The storm outside the outpost had darkened the glass, streaking the lights of the main command chamber into faint blue smears. The room was quiet except for the steady hum of monitors.
Commander Arden Voss stood with his back to them, hands clasped behind him, eyes fixed on the field map projected across the table — Ravenwood Sector 7, marked in red pulses.
"Alpha Squad: presumed lost," said one of the aides quietly. "Ash Unit confirmed on-site, but… comms have been unstable for the past six hours."
Arden's eyes narrowed.
He'd expected that answer. He just didn't like hearing it out loud.
"Deploy Aegis."
The aide hesitated. "Which ones?"
"Yes." His voice left no room for argument. "Shade and Wolf. Together."
The doors hissed open.
Two figures stepped in — Aegis Lirael Myrin, silent and pale, frost clinging to her shoulders like a second skin, and Aegis Riven Drayke, tall, broad, his expression unreadable beneath the scarred half-mask he wore.
Voss didn't turn. "You've read the brief?"
"Ravenwood," Riven said, his tone low, gravelly. "Cursed sector. Wendigo presence confirmed."
Lirael's voice was soft, detached. "Corps sends four units before this one. None returned."
Arden finally turned. The light from the monitor painted sharp lines across his face — the hollows of his eyes, the faint scars at his temple.
"Then make sure this one does."
Riven's jaw tightened. "What are we walking into, Commander?"
Voss looked down at the map again — the red pulses flickering faintly.
"Not a nest," he said slowly. "Something worse. They're evolving."
Lirael's gaze didn't shift. "Orders?"
"Locate Ash Unit," Voss said. "Recover survivors if possible. Exterminate all threats. If the situation escalates—"
He paused. His tone dropped lower.
"—contain the zone. By any means."
Riven exhaled, resting a hand on the hilt of his greatsword. "You're expecting total loss."
Voss didn't answer.
The wind howled outside the HQ windows — distant, hollow, like the voice of something old calling from the north.
Lirael tilted her head, studying the map. "We'll leave immediately."
Voss nodded once. "You're both all that's left between that town and the rest of the world. Don't let it spread."
Riven turned to leave first, his boots heavy against the steel floor. Lirael followed, movements almost soundless, her shadow slipping through the doorway like smoke.
When they were gone, Voss stood alone in the dim light, staring at the map.
His reflection looked older than he remembered.
He whispered to no one in particular—
"Kael… hold the line."