Fay held his ground.
There was nowhere left to run—his sister was behind him, trembling, and the massive hound was in front of him, snarling low, eyes locked on him with with a mix of hatred and hunger.
He gripped his broken wooden stake, the jagged tip shaking in his hand. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.
His gear lay scattered across the ground. His bag was torn. His arm throbbed with pain.
With no tools, and no real plan, Fay was relying solely on instinct—and the will to protect his precious sister.
So he didn't just wait.
Fay lunged.
If he could land the first hit, maybe—just maybe—it would buy Mira time to run. —it would buy Mira time to escape. He aimed for the beast's chest, but the dog twisted aside, surprisingly fast despite its injured leg. It growled, low and menacing, its breath hot and foul.—it would buy Mira time to escape. He aimed for the beast's chest, but the dog twisted aside, surprisingly fast despite its injured leg. It growled, low and menacing, its breath hot and foul.
Still, Fay didn't retreat.
He kept moving—darting to the side, feinting low, leaping wide whenever the beast lunged. His only real advantage he had was the hound's injured right leg—it still refused to put full weight on it, limping as it stalked him.
It snapped again, teeth flashing. Missed by inches.
Fay's heart shook violantly in his chest. His injured arm ached. But he didn't slow.
He couldn't. Not while Mira was behind him.
And somehow, the hound understood.
With a sudden bound, the beast launched past Fay—straight toward his sister.
"No—Mira, run!" Fay shouted, spinning on instinct.
He lunged, grabbing the dog's tail and pulling with all his might. The creature snarled, and Fay rammed the broken stake into its leg, burying the splintered wood as deep as he could.
A pained howl echoed through the street.
The dog turned its wrath back on him, eyes blazing.
"Damn it!" Fay stumbled backward as the stake snapped off, still lodged in the beast's limb.
Without waiting, he bolted to Mira, scooping her up into his arms. Behind him, the hound limped forward, still growling, still chasing.
He ran.
And for a moment, he thought it was over.
The creature should've stopped. That last stab should've crippled it.
That should have been it.
But it wasn't.
From the distance—sharp and blood-chilling—another howl answered the first.
Fay froze in place.
More of them.
He looked ahead—through the broken fences, over the abandoned road—and saw three shapes charging straight at him.
Leaner than the first, but just as wild and just as deadly.
"No, no, no…"
He turned back. The injured hound was still coming, slow but steady, dragging its paw, as if revenge was his sole mission.
Trapped.
His breath caught Fay had nowhere left to run.
The newcomers were just seconds away.
Fay shielded Mira, turning back toward the first hound. Maybe if he could circle it—distract it—he could break through.
He bolted wide, pushing his legs to the brink.
And then—reality broke.
Darkness appeared before him.
A surface like obsidian glass, suddenly blooming into existence midair.
With no time to stop, he ran straight into it—and fell through.
Behind him, just heartbeats later, one of the wild dogs leaped through after him.
Fay and his sister Mira, still wrapped tightly in his arms, felt as though they had plunged into water.
But they hadn't.
They were somewhere else now.
The moment they emerged, sunlight poured down over them—warm, golden, and radiant, enough to blind them.
Towering trees surrounded them, their leaves whispering in the breeze. Lush, vibrant grass stretched in all directions, and above them… the sky opened into a breathtaking vista.
Floating islands drifted lazily in the distance, while jagged mountains pierced through the clouds like ancient spears. The air—fresh, rich—filled Fay's lungs with a purity he hadn't known existed.
For the first time in his life, he truly felt alive.
There was beauty in every direction. And for a brief, fleeting moment, there was only peace.
"Feyfey…" Mira whispered, wide-eyed. "So much green…"
Fay smiled faintly.
But the moment was short-lived.
A low growl echoed behind them.
The dog.
Two of them had followed them through the weird black surface.
It stood a few meters away, shoulders tense, fur bristling, saliva dripping from its open jaws. Another lingered further back, frozen and sniffing the air as though confused, its eyes darting around warily.
Panic surged through Fay again.
He looked around—tree. If he could get Mira into the branches, she might be safe. He clutched her tighter and prepared to run.
But he never got the chance.
A massive shadow suddenly passed overhead, stretching over the clearing like a dark curtain. It didn't come from the trees.
It came from above.
Far above.
Before Fay could move, a gust of wind slammed down on them, flattening the grass and knocking him and Mira to the ground.
Then came the rustle of wings and a roar.
Not from a hound—but from the sky.
A blur of wings and scale. A massive flying lizard—like a dragon from ancient stories—descended with terrifying speed. It snatched the growling dog mid-leap, lifting it effortlessly into the air. The beast yelped once—then vanished into the sky, limp in the monster's claws.
The second dog was already gone—tail tucked, it had fled the moment it sensed the predator's approach.
Fay didn't move. He didn't dare. Long strands of grass cloaked him and Mira as they lay low, barely breathing.
They were safe—for now.
"I think… we're safe now, Mira," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Just wait a little, okay? We need to make sure nothing else like that creature who took the dog finds us."
Mira nodded softly against his chest.
They stayed hidden in the grass.
Some seconds passed before Fay got up the inspect the area, he made sure to check the sky this time as well.
"Let's go, Mira, we need to find somewhere safe…"
He looked around him, the forest ahead, and even further there were plains, something he had only seen in books.
The only thing that he needed now was a good meal to make all this truly perfect.