The Scars Tattooed on The Heart

I streaked across the continent, a hunter locked onto the predator. Abdu’s trail glittered in my vision—fine crystalline particles, each one a beacon pulsing with his essence. They mapped his erratic flight, a shimmering thread I followed through every twist and turn.

He rampaged across Asia, a whirlwind of death, bodies crumpling in his wake as he darted from one region to the next. But no matter how fast he fled, I chased without losing him. Seconds—that’s all it took for me to close the gap, a relentless shadow he couldn’t shake.

His strength bled away, his once-blinding speed halved by exhaustion and oozing wounds. On the thirteenth clash, he faltered. His boots skidded across the earth, kicking up dust, and he spun to face me—cornered, desperate, the predator baring his fangs.