Echoes in the Dark

Lila's breath hitched as the whisper slithered through the air again. "Mine," it hissed, low and possessive, sending a shiver down her spine. The trees rustled harder, leaves spiraling to the ground like they were fleeing something. She gripped her axe, her scratched arm trembling, and scanned the shadows. Nothing. Just dark pines and the fading smoke from the outpost. But she felt it—eyes, cold and heavy, watching her.

Kade tightened his hold on her shoulders, his bloody hands steadying her. "Lila, what's going on?" he asked, his voice rough but urgent. His gray eyes flicked to the trees, searching for what she saw.

"You didn't hear it?" she said, her words tumbling out fast. "The voice. It said my name. Said 'mine.'"

He frowned, glancing at the others ahead. Mara led the group down the muddy path, her silver hair catching the faint moonlight. Sasha limped beside her, sword still out, while Ryn and Tor herded the survivors. None of them stopped. None of them flinched. "I didn't hear anything," Kade said, his brow creasing. "You sure?"

"I'm not crazy," she snapped, pulling free. Her heart pounded, the baby kicking like it felt her fear. "It was real. Something's out there."

Kade studied her, then nodded once. "Okay. Stay close. We'll figure it out." He shifted his knife to his good hand, wincing as he moved. Blood still seeped from his chest, staining the herbs Mara had packed there, but he didn't complain. He never did.

She stuck to his side, her axe ready, as they hurried to catch up. The forest stretched endless around them, hills rising in the distance. The air was thick with damp earth and pine, but that sour rot lingered—the wraiths' stench, faint but clinging. Her nerves stayed taut, every snap of a twig making her jump. The whisper didn't come again, but the feeling didn't leave. Something knew her. Something wanted her.

Mara raised a hand, stopping the group at a fork in the path. One trail veered left, narrow and rocky, cutting through a steep incline. The other stretched right, wider but exposed, winding toward a valley. She crouched, checking footprints in the mud—old, human, probably hers. "Left's faster," she said, standing. "But tight. Wraiths could pin us."

"Right's open," Sasha countered, her voice strained. "They'll see us coming a mile off."

"Wraiths don't need to see," Mara said, her scarred throat tense. "They smell. Left's our shot."

Sasha glared but didn't argue. "Fine. Lead on."

Lila glanced at Kade, her stomach twisting. "You think they're still following?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," he said, his eyes on the trees behind them. "That alpha's not done. And whatever you heard… it's not helping."

She swallowed hard, clutching her axe tighter. The group moved left, single file, the path squeezing between jagged rocks. Lila's boots slipped on loose stones, her scratched arm brushing the wall. Pain flared, but she gritted her teeth and kept going. Kade stayed behind her, favoring his injured leg, his breathing rougher now. She wanted to tell him to rest, but there was no time. No safety.

The incline steepened, the air growing colder as they climbed. Rocks loomed overhead, casting long shadows. Ryn scouted ahead, her hatchet gleaming, while Tor grumbled at the rear, dragging a wounded rogue. The survivors—maybe twenty now—were quiet, their faces pale and drawn. Kids clung to adults, eyes wide. Lila's chest ached for them. This was her fault, wasn't it? Mara said she was marked. The wraiths came for her.

"Stop it," Kade muttered, nudging her. "I see that look. This isn't on you."

She blinked, startled. "How'd you—"

"You're blaming yourself," he said, his voice low. "Don't. Wraiths were moving before you showed up. Mara said so."

"Maybe," she replied, unconvinced. "But they're after me now. That alpha… it looked at me like it knew me."

He didn't answer, just kept moving. She wanted to press him, but a sharp crack echoed above—rock shifting, gravel sliding. Everyone froze. Ryn darted back, her freckled face tense. "Something's up there," she whispered, pointing at the ridge.

Mara notched an arrow, her eyes narrowing. "Wraiths?"

"Dunno," Ryn said. "Didn't smell 'em. But it's big."

Lila's grip tightened on her axe. The whisper flashed through her mind—"Mine"—and her pulse spiked. She scanned the rocks, shadows flickering in the corners of her vision. Then she saw it—a shape, tall and thin, perched on the ridge. Not a wraith. Too human, but wrong. Its outline shimmered, like heat off a fire, and its eyes glowed red, not green.

"Kade," she breathed, pointing. "There."

He followed her gaze, his knife hand steadying. "What the hell is that?"

Before anyone could answer, the thing moved—fast, leaping from the ridge. It landed in a crouch, cutting off the path ahead. Up close, it was worse. Skinny, almost skeletal, with gray skin stretched tight over bones. Its face was a mess—half-melted, one eye missing, the other burning red. Claws tipped its long fingers, scraping the ground. It tilted its head, staring at Lila, and smiled. Teeth sharp, too many.

"Shade," Mara said, her voice dropping low. "Old bastard. Shouldn't be here."

"Shade?" Sasha asked, stepping forward with her sword. "Thought those were stories."

"Not anymore," Mara replied, firing her arrow. It hit the shade's chest, sinking deep, but the thing didn't fall. It laughed—a dry, rattling sound—and pulled the arrow out, black ichor dripping.

Lila's stomach lurched. "What does it want?"

"You," Mara said, nocking another arrow. "Stay back."

The shade lunged, claws slashing at Mara. She dodged, her arrow flying wide. Sasha swung her sword, catching its arm—it screeched, black blood spraying, but swiped back, knocking her into the rocks. She hit hard, groaning. Ryn darted in, hatchet flashing, but the shade grabbed her wrist, twisting. She yelped, dropping the weapon.

Kade shoved Lila behind him, his knife raised. "Run if it gets past me," he said, his voice tight.

"No," she shot back, lifting her axe. "I'm done running."

He didn't argue. The shade charged, claws aimed at her. Kade met it, slashing its side. It hissed, grabbing his arm and throwing him against the wall. He grunted, sliding down, blood trickling from his mouth. Lila swung her axe, aiming for its neck. The blade bit deep, black ichor gushing, and the shade staggered, red eye blazing.

Mara fired again, the arrow piercing its throat. It choked, clawing at the wound, then lunged at Lila. She ducked, the claws grazing her shoulder—fresh pain, hot and sharp. She stumbled, falling to her knees, the axe slipping from her grip. The shade loomed over her, its smile widening.

"Lila," it rasped, her name dripping from its mouth like poison. "Mine."

Her blood froze. She scrabbled back, hands scraping rock, as it reached for her. Then Kade tackled it, his knife plunging into its back. It screeched, thrashing, and Mara fired a final arrow—straight through its skull. The red eye dimmed, and it collapsed, twitching once before going still.

Lila sat there, panting, her scratched shoulder bleeding again. Kade slumped beside her, coughing blood. Mara kicked the shade's body, making sure it was dead. Sasha staggered up, rubbing her head, while Ryn clutched her wrist, cursing under her breath.

"What was that thing?" Lila asked, her voice shaking. "It knew me."

"Shade," Mara said, wiping her hands. "Old spirit. Ties to the dark. Shouldn't be this far south."

"It said my name," Lila pressed, standing on shaky legs. "Called me 'mine.' Same as the whisper."

Mara's scarred throat tensed. "Then it's personal. Something's claiming you. Old blood draws 'em—power calls power."

"Power?" Lila's voice rose. "I don't have power! I'm just pregnant and scared!"

"You've got something," Mara said, her eyes hard. "And it's waking up. That shade wasn't alone."

A growl rumbled in the distance—wraiths, closing in. The group tensed, weapons raised. Mara waved them on. "Move! Safe spot's close!"

They ran, Lila helping Kade limp along. Her mind spun—old blood, shades, whispers. None of it made sense, but it terrified her. The baby kicked, sharp and urgent, like it knew something she didn't. She whispered, "We're okay," but it felt like a lie.

The path opened into a clearing, a stone cave carved into a hillside. Mara's safe spot—small, defensible, with a narrow mouth. The group piled in, rogues bracing the entrance with spears. Lila eased Kade against a wall, his breathing ragged. "You're a mess," she said, trying to sound steady.

"You too," he replied, managing a weak smirk. Blood stained his teeth.

She grabbed a rag from a rogue's pack, pressing it to his chest. "Don't die on me," she said, her voice cracking. "I need you."

He met her eyes, something soft flickering there. "Not going anywhere," he said, hoarse but firm.

A shadow moved outside—tall, thin, red-eyed. Another shade. Then another. They gathered at the cave mouth, silent, staring. Lila's heart sank. The wraiths' growls joined them, echoing closer.

"They're here," Ryn said, hatchet back in hand. "All of 'em."

Mara notched an arrow, her face grim. "Hold tight. This ain't over."

The shades stepped forward, claws glinting, and the cave shook as something huge—the alpha wraith—roared outside. Lila gripped her axe, fear choking her. They were trapped, and the dark wasn't done with her yet.