"Now what?" I asked, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it. "What do we do now? What happens to us?" I looked back toward the dark stretch of forest we had just fled from. "What if they come back in those massive groups? Or the scavengers—the ones who tried to take me? What if we—"
"I DON'T KNOW!"Adrian's voice exploded through the trees.I went completely still.
Even the forest seemed to flinch.
For the first time since I'd met him, Adrian looked… unbalanced. Not angry—overwhelmed. His chest rose sharply as he sucked in a breath, then he turned away, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to hold himself together.
"I don't know," he said again, this time quieter. Stripped of its edge. Real.
He exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the warped trees, the heavy shadows pressed too close together.
"I've explored many places," he continued. "Lands that don't exist anymore. Mountains that eat people. Realms that shouldn't even be reachable."
His gaze hardened."But I've never been here. Never felt an atmosphere like this."
A cold weight settled in my chest.
"So no," he said. "I'm not sure what happens next." He paused, then forced himself to finish, voice steady but thin. "We explore. We stay alert. And we find a place safe enough to survive the night."He looked at Druhva. Then at me.
"That's all I can give you right now."The forest didn't answer.
But somehow, I knew it was listening.Adrian rode ahead of us.Always ahead.
His brownish-white horse cut through the forest like it knew where to go—even though he didn't. That was the part that scared me the most. Adrian never moved without knowing. Never chose a path without intent. And yet here he was, riding forward on instinct alone, shoulders stiff, hand tight around the reins.
Druhva sat in front of me on the white horse, her back straight, one hand braced on the saddle horn, the other hovering just slightly—ready to grab me if something went wrong. The horse was still breathing hard from the run, flanks heaving, ash-dust clinging to its legs from where we'd torn through the undergrowth.
I flexed my leg.Nothing.No pain. No stiffness. No ache.
Perfect.
That alone made my skin crawl.
Just hours ago—no, moments ago—I'd woken up in that tent, bracing myself to see what damage had been done. Instead, my leg had been… restored. Not healed slowly. Not mended with scars.Fixed.
Like it had never broken in the first place.
I swallowed, staring down at it as the horse moved. "This isn't normal," I muttered.
Druhva glanced back at me. "You're walking. Riding. Not screaming. I'll take that as a win."
"That's not what I meant," I said.
Ahead, Adrian lifted a fist.We slowed.
The forest here was different again—thicker, quieter, the air pressing in from all sides. The smell of ash had faded, replaced by damp earth and something old… like stone that hadn't seen light in centuries.
Behind us, far—far—but not far enough, came the sound.A low, dragging roar.Not loud.Not fast.Persistent.I felt it more than heard it, like pressure against my ribs.
"The dust thing," Druhva whispered.
Adrian nodded once, not turning. "It doesn't hunt like an animal."
"Then what does it hunt like?" I asked.
"Like a consequence."
Great. Love that for us.We moved again, carefully now. No reckless speed. No zig-zag panic. Just forward, deeper, hoping the terrain would finally turn against whatever was following us.
The light still hadn't changed.
No sunset. No dusk. Just the same stretched, dim glow—like time itself had stalled, refusing to move us toward night. I hated it. Night at least meant something. This limbo didn't.
We crossed uneven ground, roots twisting like ribs beneath the soil. The horses navigated it unnaturally well, stepping where we couldn't even see.
"Adrian," I called. "Where are we?"
He didn't answer right away.
That was answer enough.
"I don't know," he finally said, voice low. "And I don't like that."
We passed through a narrow ridge, stone walls rising on either side. The sound behind us dulled—muffled, like the beast was struggling to keep shape in tighter spaces.For the first time since the chase, I let myself breathe.
Then we saw it.
A stretch of land ahead—flattened, scorched, and empty. No trees. No undergrowth. Just blackened soil and scattered remnants of old camps. Fire pits long cold. Broken poles. Torn fabric half-buried in dirt.
Someone had tried to stay here once.Failed.Adrian swore under his breath and pulled his horse to a stop. We followed.
"We can't camp in the forest," Druhva said quietly. "And we can't stay out in the open."
"And I don't know what owns this ground," Adrian snapped back, then stopped himself, dragging a hand down his face. He inhaled slowly. "Sorry."He turned in the saddle, finally looking at us. There was something raw in his eyes now—calculation scraping against fear."I've explored ruins. Mountains. Dead lands," he said. "But this place doesn't follow rules. I don't recognize the signs. I don't know what wakes at night here."The roar echoed again—closer this time.Not charging.
Waiting.Adrian straightened. "We find shelter. Something solid. Stone, if possible. High ground."
"And if we don't?" I asked.
His jaw tightened. "Then we don't sleep."
The forest shifted.Branches creaked. The ground seemed to exhale.Whatever was following us was still out there.
And night still hadn't come.