the silent hunt

Lira's breath caught in her throat as the tension in the air thickened, pressing in on her chest. Her senses, already on edge from the weight of everything that had happened since she first felt the pull of her power, sharpened instinctively. She could feel the presence of something lurking just beyond the edge of the firelight, watching them in silence. The wind had stilled, and the usual sounds of the forest had all but disappeared, as if the very woods held their breath.

Thorne's hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, his sharp eyes flicking back and forth across the clearing. His expression had shifted from calm to focused, the warrior within him coming to the forefront. Lira stayed as still as possible, her fingers trembling slightly as they gripped the dagger at her side. She could hear the faintest rustle of leaves, the subtle shift of weight as something moved in the darkness.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Something was out there. Something dangerous.

Thorne's voice broke the silence, low and steady. "Stay close. No matter what happens, don't move unless I say so."

Lira nodded quickly, but inside, panic gnawed at her. She had no idea what they were up against, but the way Thorne had shifted into battle mode told her it was something serious. He wasn't the kind to jump at shadows.

The fire crackled, its flames flickering in the growing darkness, casting long, flickering shadows on the trees surrounding them. Lira's eyes darted to the perimeter of the clearing, her every muscle coiled, ready to spring into action.

Then she heard it—a faint rustling in the brush, followed by a soft, almost imperceptible growl. Lira's heart skipped a beat, and before she could process what was happening, Thorne's sword was drawn in a single, fluid motion. He stepped forward, his body a blur of grace and power, his movements instinctive, trained.

Lira's breath quickened, and she felt a strange tug in the pit of her stomach. The magic within her stirred, its energy coursing through her veins like wildfire. She knew it was the power she had barely begun to understand, the raw force that surged to life whenever she felt threatened. But this time, it was different. It wasn't just a flash of energy—it was a deep, simmering need to protect, to strike back.

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady herself, to quell the rising tide of power within her. She didn't want to lose control—not now. Not when Thorne was in danger.

But before she could find her center, a figure emerged from the shadows.

A creature, tall and imposing, its form draped in dark, ragged robes that seemed to blend with the night. Its face was hidden beneath a hood, its features obscured by shadows. But Lira could feel its eyes on her—cold, calculating, and filled with malice.

It was no ordinary hunter.

The figure took a slow, deliberate step forward, its movements precise, like it had all the time in the world. Thorne's sword was raised, but he didn't attack. Not yet.

"Who are you?" Thorne's voice was low, the words laced with suspicion and authority. He stood firm, his posture tense, but Lira could see the careful calculation in his eyes. He was waiting. Waiting for a sign.

The creature didn't answer. Instead, it tilted its head slightly, as if studying them both with an almost unnerving patience.

Lira's pulse hammered in her ears, and the magic inside her flared, its power growing stronger with each passing second. She could feel it—the raw, untamed energy that pulsed in her core. But it wasn't just fear or panic this time. There was something else—something darker, more instinctual.

The creature stepped forward again, its hands raising in a slow, deliberate motion. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, the air around them seemed to shift. A cold wind whipped through the trees, stirring the leaves and sending a chill down Lira's spine.

The creature's hood fell back.

Lira froze.

Underneath the hood was a face, pale and angular, with eyes that glowed with an otherworldly green light. Its skin was cracked, as if aged beyond measure, and the veins beneath its skin pulsed with an unnatural glow. The creature was no longer human—at least, not in any way Lira recognized.

"Wraith," Thorne whispered, his voice a mix of fear and disgust.

Lira's heart stuttered in her chest. She had heard stories about wraiths, ancient, corrupted beings born from dark magic. Creatures of shadow and death that feasted on the souls of the living. They were said to be nearly impossible to kill—at least, without the proper weapons or magic.

This one didn't look like it would be an easy fight.

"You're the Sungod's child," the wraith said, its voice a rasping whisper that seemed to slither into Lira's mind. "I can feel it. The power that runs through your veins."

Lira's stomach clenched. "What do you want?"

The wraith's lips twisted into a grotesque smile, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth. "I want what is mine."

Thorne stepped forward, his sword poised. "Stay back," he warned Lira, his voice barely audible. "This one is mine."

But before Lira could respond, the wraith moved.

In a blur of motion, the creature lunged forward, its long, clawed hands reaching for Thorne. The warrior didn't flinch. In one swift motion, he swung his sword, the steel cutting through the air with a deadly arc. But the wraith was faster—its form flickered, almost intangible, as it evaded the strike with an unnatural grace.

Lira gasped as she saw the wraith disappear into the shadows, its form melting into the darkness like smoke.

"Thorne!" she shouted, her voice sharp with panic.

Thorne's eyes were scanning the shadows, every muscle in his body coiled and ready. "Stay close, Lira!" he ordered, his voice tense.

Lira's heart pounded in her chest as she gripped her dagger tighter. She could feel the wraith, lurking in the dark, waiting for the right moment to strike. And she could feel the power inside her, boiling over, desperate to be unleashed.

But she knew she couldn't afford to lose control. Not now.

The wraith's laugh echoed through the clearing, a low, unsettling sound that made Lira's skin crawl.

"You think you can stop me, little girl?" the wraith hissed. "You, who are so new to your power? I've seen gods fall. I've seen kingdoms crumble. What hope do you have?"

The words struck Lira deep, filling her with doubt. But as the wraith moved closer, the magic inside her flared again, this time with more intensity, as though the very earth beneath her feet was urging her to fight back.

The wraith appeared behind Thorne, its claws outstretched, but before it could strike, Lira's eyes blazed with golden light. Without thinking, she let the power surge from her, her body instinctively channeling the energy within her. She raised her hand, and a blast of pure, golden energy shot from her palm, striking the wraith square in the chest.

The creature screamed as the energy hit it, the force of the blast sending it stumbling backward. For a brief moment, the wraith was disoriented, its body writhing in pain.

Lira gasped, her chest heaving as the magic drained from her. The power she had unleashed was unlike anything she had ever felt. It was raw, unrestrained, and terrifying. But in that moment, she had done what needed to be done.

The wraith snarled, recovering quickly, its eyes burning with fury. It was far from defeated.

"You are more than I thought," the wraith sneered. "But it won't matter. You'll fall like the rest."

But Lira wasn't done.

Thorne moved in to engage again, his sword flashing with precision. But Lira, still trembling from the surge of power, stepped forward, her hand crackling with golden energy. She wasn't sure what was happening, but she could feel the magic within her, urging her to fight.

And fight she would.

With a roar of determination, Lira unleashed another wave of magic, this time sending it hurtling toward the wraith.

The battle had only just begun.