no safe place

Hope collapsed against the cold stone, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breath. The shadows of the collapsed building wrapped around him like a shroud, offering a fragile sense of safety. His legs burned from the sprint, his heart still pounding in his ears. But the silence that followed… it was almost worse.

For a brief, fleeting moment, he thought he'd lost it.

The fiend's roars had faded, swallowed by the eerie stillness of The Ashlands. All that remained was the distant creak of ruined structures and the faint, unnatural hum that seemed to bleed from the very air itself.

Hope let his head fall back against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut.

But then he heard it.

A low, guttural growl.

It wasn't loud—but it was close. Too close.

His eyes snapped open, every muscle in his body going rigid. The sound was coming from just beyond the cracked wall at his back. The fiend hadn't given up. The bastard had followed him, relentless and hungry.

And now, it was right on the other side.

Hope clamped a hand over his mouth, forcing himself to stay still, to not breathe. His heart hammered against his ribs, loud enough that he was sure the creature could hear it. He could almost feel the fiend's presence, like a shadow pressing against his skin.

The growl deepened, followed by the heavy scrape of claws dragging across stone. Dust drifted down from the cracks above, and Hope swore he could hear the thing's ragged, wet breaths.

It knows I'm here.

But knowing wasn't the same as finding.

Hope had survived worse odds back in the outskirts. He'd hidden from raiders who would've gutted him for a scrap of food, outsmarted thugs with nothing to lose. This was no different.

Except it was.

Because this thing wasn't human.

It didn't get tired. It didn't get bored. It wouldn't stop until he was dead—or worse.

The wall behind him groaned, the sound of stone cracking under pressure. The fiend was testing it, searching for a weakness. Hope's mind raced, mapping out his surroundings without moving a muscle. There was a gap to his left, a narrow crevice in the ruins he might be able to slip through if he was fast enough.

But he had to time it perfectly.

One wrong move, and he was done.

The growl on the other side of the wall grew louder, more insistent. The fiend was getting impatient. Hope could hear the faint crunch of its claws digging deeper into the stone.

Now or never.

With every ounce of control, Hope shifted his weight, inching toward the gap. His movements were slow, deliberate, his breath held tight in his chest. The wall behind him cracked again, louder this time. The fiend was close—too close.

And then, with a deafening crash, the wall exploded inward.