The creature landed soundlessly. Damon's breath hitched; the air felt too thin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, fast and uneven.
The thing's body was like bleached leather stretched too tight, its eyes hollow pits that reflected the moonlight. It tilted its head, studying him with insect stillness.
"You… smell of him," it rasped.
Damon's fingers curled. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The creature smiled, thin lips peeling back. "You carry his end upon you."
Then it moved.
Damon barely had time to roll aside before a hand like a hooked blade tore through the space where he'd been standing. Dirt sprayed. He scrambled up, heart pounding, and tried to remember Arthur's words: Center. Gather. Release.
He pulled the current up from his chest, felt it push against his skin like trapped lightning, and hurled himself sideways as the creature came again. The world blurred; for a heartbeat, he was faster than he'd ever been.
He pivoted, swung. The punch cracked through the air, caught the thing's shoulder, and sent it sliding back through the grass.
It stopped, crouched low. A hiss escaped its throat.
"So the prey learns."
Damon steadied his breathing, forcing his panic down. "Not prey anymore."
The creature darted forward. Damon met it head-on this time, mana burning through his legs as he sidestepped and slammed a fist into its ribs. The impact jolted his bones. It staggered, then spun, claws slicing a shallow line across his skin. He hissed, stepping back.
"Focus," he told himself. "Don't lose it."
The current pulsed under his ribs, hot and alive. He channelled it outward, into his arms, feeling the pressure balance instead of overwhelm. He moved again, faster, each dodge smoother than the last. The forest rang with the rhythm of their blows: thud, crack, breath, step.
The creature shrieked, the sound scraping against the inside of Damon's skull. He stumbled, vision flaring white. It lunged, claws flashing—
He dropped low, felt the wind of its strike whip over him, and drove his elbow up into its chest. The hit landed clean, knocking it off balance.
It's working, he thought. I can feel it moving with me.
He pressed forward, chaining the motion: a kick, a burst of energy from his foot that sent him spinning behind the creature. It turned too slow. He planted his hand to the ground, flared mana through his arm, and struck again.
The creature hit a tree hard enough to splinter bark. It fell to one knee, coughing out a sound that might have been laughter.
"Your power… is insignificant," it croaked. "When he comes, you will understand what it means to take from him."
Damon didn't answer. He moved.
The forest exploded into motion — branches snapping, the ground shaking under each step. They fought between the trees, two shapes in constant motion. Damon's movements became sharper, his control cleaner; the current flowed where he needed it, when he needed it.
He felt no fear now, only focus.
He leapt back, drawing the energy in one last time. The pressure swelled in his chest until it burned.
The creature lunged again, shrieking.
Damon stepped forward, released everything.
The air cracked like thunder. His fist met the creature's chest, a shockwave rippling out in a circle of dust and light.
For a heartbeat, the world stood still. Then the creature's form caved inward, collapsing in on itself until it was nothing but ash scattering in the wind.
It fell to its knees. Its voice came thin and fraying:
"My… lord… will avenge me…"
Then silence.
Damon stood swaying, his hand still raised, his breathing ragged. He looked down at the faint shimmer of air around his arm and whispered, "I did it."
The words came out more like disbelief than triumph. His vision swam. The mana bled away, leaving a heavy, aching void behind.
His knees buckled. The last thing he saw was the moon between the branches before darkness closed in.
At the edge of the trees, two figures stepped from the shadows. Lily's cloak brushed the grass; her face pale in the moonlight. Arthur stood beside her, arms folded, eyes fixed on the boy lying motionless among the drifting ash.
Lily's voice broke the silence, soft but edged with worry.
"Should we have helped him?"
Arthur didn't move. "If things had gone wrong, I would have stepped in."
She frowned. "You let him get close."
"He needed to," Arthur said simply. "He won't understand strength until he faces it alone."
They stood there in silence for a while, the night filled with nothing but Damon's faint, steady breathing.
Lily's expression softened. "He's stronger than I thought. But learning this fast… it shouldn't be possible."
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's what worries me."
For a moment, they just watched him — the boy sleeping amid broken branches and pale dust. Then Arthur sighed, crouched, and lifted him effortlessly over his shoulder.
"Let's get him back before the others wake," he said quietly.
Lily followed as they disappeared into the forest's edge, their figures swallowed by the moonlight and mist.
Behind them, the clearing fell still again — as though nothing at all had happened.