Darius's lungs burned as he sprinted through the forest, the damp air thick with the stench of decay and pine, his boots slipping on roots that seemed to twist beneath him. Aiden's orbs blazed ahead, their golden light cutting through the suffocating dark, but the shadows fought back, curling like living things around gnarled trees. Tahlia ran beside him, her leaf-streaked hair whipping, her breath sharp and uneven. Kai's earth magic rumbled, stone barriers rising behind them to slow whatever chased them, while Bran's sparks flared wildly, dying in the heavy air. Zevran's metal shields hovered, glinting as they deflected unseen threats. The forest groaned, a low, guttural moan, as footsteps—heavy, deliberate, predatory—thundered closer, shaking the ground. The scream from moments ago clawed at Darius's mind, its raw, unholy edge a blade in his thoughts. Something was hunting them, and it wasn't human.