The wheels shrieked as iron rims tore sparks from the cobbles. Horses thundered, breath steaming like smoke in the cold night, muscles bunching and straining as the caravan burst through the northern gate and into the wild dark beyond.
Behind them came the roar of a hundred throats, rage, terror, and zeal braided into one relentless howl. Torches spilled from the town in a flood, their lights scattering across the valley floor like fireflies born of hate.
"Faster!" Sofia's voice cracked over the din. She rode ahead, helm gleaming in the moonlight, sword drawn as if daring the night to rise against her. Her horse foamed at the bit, yet she never slackened pace.
Owen clutched the reins of a supply cart, his jaw clenched so hard it shook his frame. The cart jolted over ruts, but his grip did not falter. Beside him, Evelyn knelt with one arm braced against the boy's trembling shoulder, her other hand locked tight on her healer's satchel as if it were a shield.
Leo rode the second cart, white knuckled against the wood. His chest burned with the shard's rhythm, every beat a hammer against his ribs. It drank the mob's frenzy like wine, whispering with cruel eagerness:
Turn. Burn. One strike, and their courage will drown in ash.
Leo ground his teeth. Not yet.
The valley swallowed them whole. The road bent and dipped, and trees pressed close, their skeletal branches scratching the stars. The moon, pale and watchful, gave no warmth. Every gust of wind, every crack of twig in the undergrowth seemed a step too close, a breath too near.
"Off the road!" Sofia barked. She wrenched her horse down a deer path, the caravan jolting in her wake. Branches whipped at their faces, wheels clattered, but the roar of pursuit dulled as the undergrowth thickened.
They pressed on until lungs burned and horses lathered white. At last, Sofia raised her fist. "Halt."
The caravan shuddered into a shadowed clearing where the moonlight barely reached. The only sound was the ragged panting of beasts and men alike. The air smelled of crushed ferns and old moss.
"No fire," Sofia ordered. "Ten breaths, no more."
They collapsed where they stood. The boy curled close to Leo, his small body trembling despite the heavy summer night.
Leo laid a hand on the hilt at his side, eyes scanning the treeline. Every shadow seemed to twitch. Every rustle was a whisper too near. The shard coiled hotter in his chest, as though answering something outside himself.
"Something's out there," he said, his voice low, strained.
Sofia turned sharply, scar taut, gaze slicing the trees. "The mob?"
Leo shook his head. "No. Older."
The forest shivered. Leaves stirred though no wind passed.
Then it came.
A howl split the night, low and dragging, mournful as if it rose from the bones of the earth. A second answered, sharper. Then a third. The chorus braided into a hunting song that froze blood in its veins.
The boy whimpered, pressing his face into Leo's side. Horses stamped, ears flicking, eyes rolling wide with white.
Sofia swore under her breath. "They've driven us into the hunting grounds."
Owen's voice was a whisper of dread. "Beast packs. Night things. The wards don't hold this deep."
From the trees, golden eyes began to kindle, one pair, then a second, then dozens more, each low to the ground, each unblinking. They blinked in and out of sight as if the darkness itself breathed them forth.
The mob was no longer their only hunter.