The wounded Malhûl crawled among the roots, its yellow eyes burning with hatred.
Thalen watched it, wings half-spread.
Instinct (calm, icy):
— It won't last.
One step. Then another.
Tharion crossed the clearing, silent, determined.
The Malhûl lifted its head, growling, gathering its last strength.
Tharion stopped one meter away.
Tharion (cold, emotionless voice):
"I've had enough."
The Malhûl leapt.
It never reached its target.
An invisible pressure twisted the air around it.
The beast's body froze, suspended in a breath.
Then a dry, muffled crack.
It fell heavily.
Dead.
Silence fell again. The forest seemed to hold its breath, afraid.
Thalen remained motionless.
Instinct (disturbed):
…He erased it.
Tharion slowly lowered his hand. His icy eyes met Thalen's for a brief moment.
No pride. No satisfaction. Only fatigue… and a silent threat.
Tharion:
"You could have finished it."
He paused, then added softly:
"But not too early. You learned. You endured."
A cold vibration ran through Thalen. Not victory. Just silent recognition.
Tharion:
"You are progressing."
He disappeared into the shadows.
Thalen remained alone with the forest… and the blackened body of the Malhûl.
Thalen (inner thought, dark):
…So this is what progressing means.
Instinct (gentle, serious):
Yes. And he saw it.