They Came For Her

The crowd began to murmur behind her. Questions, panic, suspicion. The kind of fear that spread fast in small places.

Darius rose beside Selene, body tense, jaw locked. "They're coming for you. Not the village."

"They won't care," she said quietly. "They'll kill whoever's in the way."

The blacksmith from earlier stepped forward, fists clenched. "You brought this to us?"

Darius was on him in an instant, voice like a growl. "Back off."

But Selene held up her hand. "He's right to be angry. We're a risk."

The villagers were watching now, closing in—not with weapons, but with desperation. It was more dangerous. The kind of desperation that led to betrayal, to doors bolted shut and backs turned when the blood came.

Neris stepped forward, her presence cutting through the tension like cold water. "If you want to live, leave now. Hide in your cellars. Lock your doors. Don't run. You'll draw them faster."

"Why should we trust you?" someone shouted.

"You shouldn't," Neris said simply. "But if you stay out here, you'll die."

That landed.

People started to scatter.

Selene turned to Darius. "We can't lead them through the village."

He nodded. "Back toward the ridge. We hold them off there."

She looked toward the woman who'd brought the warning. Still bleeding. Still shaking.

"We'll need to move her."

Neris was already kneeling beside the woman, murmuring something low and ancient. Her hands glowed faintly. The woman gasped, then fell into a steady, shallow sleep.

"Enough to keep her breathing," Neris said. "But she won't run."

"I'll carry her," Darius said.

They moved fast after that—cutting through the eastern edge of the village and into the low hills beyond. Trees gave way to rock and bramble. The ridge rose ahead, narrow and sharp, overlooking a dry riverbed.

It wasn't much. But it was something.

Darius laid the unconscious woman beneath a rocky overhang, out of sight. Selene set her back to a boulder, her sword resting across her knees again. She could feel it hum. Almost like it was eager.

She didn't want to know what that meant.

"They'll come from there," Darius said, pointing to the mouth of the gorge. "Funneled. We've got the high ground."

"We're not going to win a war," Selene said. "We just have to survive it."

But even that felt like a stretch.

She could feel them already.

Not in the air, not in sound—but in her blood. Like a pressure building under her skin. The hunters. The bond-marks. The broken threads pulling toward her.

"How many do you sense?" Darius asked.

She closed her eyes.

One… two… four—

Her eyes snapped open.

"Twelve. Maybe more. One of them has silver laced through their aura. Poisoned."

Darius didn't flinch. "That's for me."

"And three of them are wolves. The rest… I don't know what they are."

"Desperate," Neris murmured. "Broken things, hungry for coin and power."

Selene looked down at her hands.

They were steady. For once.

She thought she might be past fear. Not because she was brave—but because she was exhausted.

A soft breeze passed. And with it—a howl.

Low. Long. Distant.

But not far enough.

Darius stood slowly. His shadow fell across her.

"We hold them here," he said. "If I tell you to run, Selene—"

"I won't."

He met her eyes, and something unspoken passed between them.

This wasn't like the others. This fight… it wasn't just survival.

It was a message.

They would come for her. Over and over. Paid, compelled, ordered. And they would die.

The first figures appeared along the ridge path—shadows moving like liquid over stone.

And in the center… a tall man with red scars around his throat. Eyes glowing faintly gold. Not wolf, not human.

Hybrid.

He grinned when he saw her.

"I was told you'd be pretty," he called. "Didn't think you'd be brave too."

Selene didn't answer.

He motioned for the others to spread.

Darius shifted, bones cracking, fur rippling along his arms. "Get ready."

But Selene was already stepping forward.

The sword in her hand pulsed once.

And she knew—

It wasn't just a weapon.

It was hers.

Blood sang. The stone beneath her feet hummed with power. She didn't know where the strength came from—her mother's echo, the sword, the curse—but she welcomed it.

Because they were coming.

And this time, she wouldn't run.