Reality twisted the moment they stepped through.

  The air thickened, turning dense, suffocating, pressing against their skin like unseen hands trying to crush them. A force yanked at their bodies, stretching, twisting—pulling them through an invisible tunnel. The ground beneath them ceased to exist. Stomachs lurched. The world blurred into a spiraling void of shadows and cold.

  Then—impact.

  Elias landed first. Feet steady. Palms bracing against smooth tile. His breath came sharp, amber eyes narrowing as he adjusted. Fluorescent lights hummed faintly overhead. The sterile scent of electronics clung to the air, mingling with the cool whisper of air conditioning. His midnight-black sword pulsed faintly in his grip, its energy humming against his skin.

  Aiden hit the ground next. A grunt. One knee down. He rolled his shoulders, exhaling hard.

  Lyric stumbled. Her fingers caught the edge of a glass counter just before she collapsed. The surface trembled under her weight, a faint rattle of items inside. Her crossbow was still clutched in her grasp, the sleek metal cool beneath her fingers, its intricate mechanisms humming faintly with residual energy.

  Thorne landed with a heavy thud. A low groan. He rolled onto his side, shaking off the disorientation. His metal spear remained firm in his grasp, its weight grounding him as he pushed himself up, his grip tightening around the cool steel.

  Alice recovered the fastest. A fluid motion. Low stance. Knives already in hand as her gaze swept the space.

  Silence.

  Behind the counter, a young man—a vampire—had been sitting slouched in a chair, elbows on the table, fingers pressed against his temples as if trying to drown out the world. Large, over-ear headphones rested around his neck, the faint thrum of music still leaking from them.

  Then—he jolted upright.

  His head snapped up, eyes widening in shock as he stumbled to his feet, knocking over a small box of gadgets in his rush. His fingers gripped the edge of the glass display, knuckles white, tension radiating from every muscle.

  They had appeared out of thin air.

  The silence stretched, taut as a wire.

  Then—

  "What the hell—?!" His voice cracked, equal parts alarmed and incredulous. "What—how—?!" His gaze darted between them, fangs bared slightly—not in aggression, but pure shock.

  Elias barely spared him a glance. Something felt off. The air held a weight beyond the stale sterility of the store. His fingers flexed near the hilt of his sword.

  Aiden pushed himself up with a grunt. "Okay... what the hell just happened?"

  Lyric brushed dust off her sleeve, brow furrowing. "It felt like something ripped us through a glitch in reality."

  Alice moved first, pacing in a slow circle, scanning every shadow. "Where is everyone? This place should be packed."

  Thorne groaned, rubbing his temple. "If this was a trap, I expected something a little more dramatic. Y'know, like an ambush? Not an empty store."

  The vampire finally blinked past his shock, his expression hardening. "How—?!" His voice cracked, his eyes darting between them. "You—just—appeared! Out of thin air!"

  His fangs flashed for a brief moment before he clamped his mouth shut, taking a half-step back. One hand gripped the counter, steadying himself as his rigid posture melted into something sharper—warier.

  "I don't know what kind of trick this is, but you'd better start talking." His tone was firm now, suspicion lacing every word. "This is my shop, and I don't take kindly to people materializing in it unannounced."

  Aiden dismissed him with a wave, not even looking his way. "Yeah, yeah, not now."

  The vampire's brow twitched. "Excuse me?"

  Ignoring him, Aiden turned to the others. "Either the Eclipse gates glitched, or something's seriously wrong. If it led us here, then there should be—" He gestured vaguely at the sterile shelves and displays. "I don't know. A fight? A demon? Something trying to kill us?"

  Lyric's fingers traced the smooth, carbon-fiber frame of her crossbow. "Nothing feels off, though. No dark aura. No distortions. Just... a store.

  Alice exhaled sharply. "That doesn't make sense. The doors don't just drop us at random."

  Thorne rolled his shoulders. "Unless whatever pulled us here already left." His eyes flicked toward the vampire, lingering a beat too long.

  The vampire scoffed. "Oh, come on. You think I did this?" He gestured around the empty shop. "Yeah, because clearly, I've been busy summoning demons between selling overpriced headphones."

  Elias didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed on the vampire, unreadable, calculating.

  Something didn't add up.

  Then—

  A scream. Shrill. Distant.

  Then another. And another.

  The sounds of chaos spilled in from outside—shouts, panicked footsteps, the shattering crack of glass breaking.

  All five of them snapped their heads toward the entrance, exchanging brief glances before Elias took the lead, pushing through the door. One by one, the others followed, stepping into the unknown.

  The moment they set foot outside, the breath hitched in their throats.

  They weren't just in a shop. They were in a mall—a massive, sprawling structure that loomed around them like a giant, hollowed-out beast. The domed ceiling stretched high above, its glass panels cracked, allowing flickering, unnatural light to seep through. Multiple floors spiraled around the central atrium, lined with shattered storefronts and broken signs. The marble beneath their feet was smeared with something dark—dirt, dust... or something worse.

  But it wasn't the state of the mall that made their stomachs twist. It was the chaos.

  Vampires ran. Not in pursuit. Not in hunger. In fear.

  Blurs of black and crimson streaked past them, movements frantic, erratic. Some stumbled, scrambling away from something unseen. Others flattened against walls, hands clawing at their own faces, as if trying to rid themselves of a horror they couldn't unsee.

  Elias' grip on his sword tightened as his gaze flicked up to a half-broken sign hanging from the ceiling. Recognition flickered in his eyes, his jaw clenching.

  "We're in Duskveil Mall." Elias's voice was low, unreadable. "It's the largest commercial center in the entire vampire territory, built within Duskveil Plaza—the core of vampires' trade, influence, and power. If something's wrong here—" he exhaled sharply, eyes scanning the frenzied scene, "—then it's far worse than we thought."

  Aiden frowned, crossing his arms as he processed Elias' words. His gaze swept over the chaos, watching as vampires—predators by nature—ran like helpless prey.

  "But why attack this place?" His voice was edged with confusion. "If It's a fortress of influence. Whoever did this had to know they'd be stirring a hornet's nest."

  Thorne exhaled sharply, his gray eyes scanning the eerie scene. "That's exactly why." He gestured toward the panicked nightwalkers. "Take down a place like this, and you don't just cause fear—you shatter control. This isn't an attack. It's a statement."

  Lyric's fingers curled tightly around her crossbow, her voice hushed yet firm. "Then whoever did this... they don't just want chaos. They want to break us from the inside." Her eyes darkened as she took in the fleeing bloodborn, unease tightening her features.

  Alice swallowed, her fingers twitching at her sides. "And if vampires are running in terror..." She hesitated, her voice quieter now. "Then what exactly are we about to face?"

  A beat of silence stretched between them.

  Then, the vampire who had followed them out of the shop froze mid-step.

  His breath hitched. His already pale face drained of any remaining color. His pupils, sharp and predatory before, widened with something far worse than surprise.

  "Oh, hell no."

  He moved before his mind could catch up, a blur of motion as he spun back toward the shop. A deafening slam echoed through the space as metal shutters crashed down behind him. Locks clicked. A deadbolt slid into place. Then another. And another.

  From behind the barrier, his muffled voice drifted out.

  "I don't know what you guys are looking for, but I am not dealing with it."

  Aiden let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, that's comforting."

  Elias didn't react. He pushed forward without a word, his pace steady but tense. The others trailed behind him, their eyes locked on the chaos unraveling around them. Shadows twisted under the flickering lights, and all around them, figures blurred past—creatures built for the hunt, now fleeing like defenseless prey.

  Lyric exhaled sharply, gripping her crossbow. "They're fast. Strong. They don't just run." Her voice held an edge of disbelief. "So why are they running now?"

  Alice gripped the knives in her hands, her knuckles white as she watched some of the fleeing figures stumble, collapsing mid-stride. A shiver crawled down her spine. "This isn't panic," she murmured. "It's dread."

  Aiden's jaw clenched. "I don't like this. Feels like we walked into something we shouldn't have."

  "We have no other choice," Elias said, his voice firm. He gestured toward the fleeing vampiric figures, their terror palpable in the air. "The Eclipse Heart chose us... and that means we have to face whatever's driving them to run—whether we're ready or not."

  The weight of unseen eyes pressed against his skin, the air thick with an eerie presence that coiled and slithered beneath the surface. His breath shallowed. Every instinct screamed—there was something here. Something even vampires—immortal predators—had no will to face.

  Then—a scream.

  High. Piercing. From the floor above.

  Elias' jaw tightened. "We need to move. Now."

  They bolted up the staircase, boots hammering against marble in a desperate rhythm. With each level, the air thickened—electric, tense, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Every inhale dragged in a charge, like breathing through a stormcloud, while an invisible force loomed closer, heavy and watching.

  Then, as they reached the upper floor, they stopped.

  A figure emerged from the shadows of the corridor, each step slow, deliberate. His coat flared behind him, the dim light licking at the edges of his silhouette. In one gloved hand, a daggerblade gleamed—a weapon neither short nor long, its tapered edge curved just enough to hint at something wickedly precise, its obsidian sheen swallowing the light instead of reflecting it.

  Alice's brow furrowed as she took a hesitant step forward. "He doesn't look like a demon... at least, not like the ones we've read about—Frostfiends, Gloomshapers."

  Lyric's fingers tightened around her crossbow. "Yeah. No horns, no tail, no monstrous size or fangs." Her voice was laced with confusion. "So why are the vampires running in terror?"

  Thorne exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Doesn't make sense. He's not some nightmare beast." His eyes flicked back to the figure, unease creeping into his tone. "He looks almost... normal."

  Elias remained silent, his gaze fixed on the daggerblade in the stranger's grasp. A cold shiver crawled down his spine.

  Then the hunters came.

  Blurs of motion. Predatory speed. The scent of cold iron and blood. Clawed hands lashed through the air, fangs bared in silent snarls.

  The blade moved.

  A pivot. A flick of steel. A single, effortless slash.

  The first attacker staggered mid-lunge, eyes wide—not with pain, not with anger, but with something far worse. He tried to snarl, to breathe, but his form wavered—then scattered, nothing more than drifting ash.

  Another lunged. The blade found its mark, sliding between ribs with surgical precision. A whisper of energy pulsed along the metal, unseen but devastating. The creature convulsed, limbs twisting unnaturally before collapsing into shadow.

  But they kept coming.

  For every strike, another vampire surged forward, their movements too fast, too relentless. A parry wasn't enough. A well-placed stab barely slowed them. The dagger was precise, but it wasn't keeping up. A glancing blow caught him off guard—then another. Too many. Too quick.

  Aiden let out a slow whistle. "Seriously? He brought that tiny thing to take over Zephyros?" He scoffed, crossing his arms. "What's next? He gonna wrestle a dragon with a spoon?"

  The universe answered.

  From the shattered remains of a storefront, two more figures lunged.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The daggerblade flicked—elongated—unraveling into a chain of blackened iron, runes along its length igniting in eerie synchronization.

  A sharp crack split the air.

  The chain coiled like a living thing, tightening around a throat with merciless grace. A pulse of energy surged through the links—lightning, but not. A tremor rippled through the vampire's body before it convulsed violently—then collapsed into dust.

  The second barely had time to move before the chain snapped again, its tip morphing into a jagged spike. It struck clean through the chest, the impact soundless, the effect immediate. A single breath, a twitch—gone.

  Silence thickened the air. The figure stood unmoving, the chain slowly retracting, its runes dimming as if the violence had never happened.

  The daggerblade was small again.

  And the floor was littered with nothing but dust.

  Aiden felt the weight of their stares before he saw them. Lyric exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose as if warding off a headache.

  "Alright," she said, voice tight, "first, you mention an attack, and then we get attacked."

  Alice, knives still in hand, gestured toward the scorched remains smeared across the floor, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Then you call his weapon tiny, and it—did that."

  Thorne adjusted his grip on his spear, crossing his arms with the weapon still in one hand, his fingers drumming impatiently against the shaft. "You are absolutely doing this on purpose."

  Elias, however, wasn't looking at Aiden. His gaze was locked on the figure in the corridor. The man hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, yet the air around him felt heavier—thick with an unspoken force, a presence coiled beneath the chaos. The overhead lights flickered, their glow warping across his frame like shadows twisting in anticipation.

  Elias's voice was quiet, but edged with unease. "Remind me," he muttered, "to never stand next to you when you start making predictions."

  Aiden opened his mouth for a retort—but then, the man moved.

  A single step.

  Slow. Purposeful. Each step carried an unsettling weight, the blade held low at his side, its edge catching the dim light with a cold glint. The scent of iron and burnt ozone thickened, coiling in their lungs. And then—he turned.

  Their bodies locked up.

  His gaze swept over them, sharp and searching—like a predator finding its mark. For a moment, there was nothing. Just eerie, measured silence. Then recognition flickered in his eyes, followed by something far worse.

  A slow, vicious smile crept across his face. Amusement curled at the edges of his lips, dark and knowing, as if he'd just uncovered a long-awaited secret. As if they weren't threats or obstacles, but pieces settling exactly where he wanted them.

  And then—he took another step.

  From the highest floor of the ruined mall, Cassandra and Sentinel watched in silence, their gazes fixed on the chaos below. Flickering lights cast jagged shadows across shattered railings and broken tiles. The once-bustling corridors lay in ruins—glass crunched underfoot like brittle ice, neon signs sputtered with dying sparks, and smoke curled from collapsed storefronts.

  Amid the destruction, five figures stood frozen. Their eyes were locked on the invader—the one who had torn through the vampires with effortless, merciless precision. Bodies had never even hit the ground. Just dust.

  Cassandra's hands tightened at her sides, nails digging into her palms. "Sir." Her voice barely rose above the distant hum of a failing light. "Shouldn't we intervene? If we don't, they could—"

  "No."

  The word was sharp, absolute.

  She turned sharply, her frustration breaking through. "But why? We could stop this now—"

  Sentinel's gaze met hers, unwavering. "If we interfere, they will never awaken to their true selves."

  His eyes drifted back to the scene below. The five remained motionless, breaths shallow, fingers twitching toward their weapons—but they hadn't moved. Not yet.

  "They are the chosen ones," he continued, voice steady. "The only ones who can stand against these invaders—again and again, no matter how many times the darkness rises."

  Cassandra hesitated, but his words pressed down like a weight on her chest.

  "If they cannot face this now," he murmured, "how will they ever stand when the real war begins?"

  The man took another step toward the five chosen ones, his blade gleaming under the uneven glow of malfunctioning signs. A sickly, metallic scent clung to the air—blood, oil, and an acrid sting, sharp and unnatural, like the aftermath of burned magic.

  A vampire lunged. He didn't stop. He didn't even look.

  A swift, effortless slash. The creature fell, lifeless before it hit the ground.

  Another came from the side—claws bared, teeth flashing. He sidestepped smoothly, his blade a whisper through the air. The vampire crumpled, its body never reaching him.

  Step after step, he moved forward. More rushed him in desperation, but it didn't matter. Every attack was met with the same precise, effortless end. No hesitation. No wasted motion.

  And still, he kept walking—straight toward them.

  Cassandra could only watch as destiny began to test them.

  The five stilled, muscles coiled tight, breath caught somewhere between instinct and hesitation.

  Elias' fingers clenched around his mid-black sword, the rough grip digging into his palm. The blade felt heavier than before, its edge glinting dully in the flickering neon light. A tremor ran up his arm. His throat bobbed. "Okay... I don't like this. We need a plan—"

  "Plan?!" Lyric's crossbow was steady in her grasp, but her feet had already begun sliding backward, her weight shifting as if ready to spring. "How about run? Running sounds like a great plan right now."

  Alice's fingers twitched around the knives in her hands before curling into fists. "Agreed. Running. Definitely running."

  Thorne's grip tightened around his spear, the shaft warm and reassuring, but the unease in his stance betrayed him. His eyes flickered to the advancing figure, brows knitting. "Wait—why is he coming toward us? Shouldn't he be—"

  Aiden cut him a glare, jaw tight. "Oh, great idea, Thorne. Why don't you go over there and ask him?"

  Thorne scoffed, throwing his free hand up. "Oh sure, let me just casually walk up and say, 'Excuse me, sir, could you kindly not murder us?'"

  Lyric let out a sharp breath, gesturing wildly. "Brilliant! Let's discuss this while running."

  Elias didn't wait. His grip latched onto Alice's wrist, yanking her forward. "MOVE!"

  They bolted.

  Boots pounded against the cracked tiles, glass crunching underfoot as they weaved between toppled shelves and broken pillars. Neon signs flickered erratically, casting their jagged reflections across shattered mirrors. The air was thick—dust, burnt wiring, the metallic tang of blood clinging to each breath.

  Behind them, the footsteps ceased.

  The man halted mid-stride, head tilting, gaze tracking their retreat. A moment of stillness stretched—just long enough for confusion to flash across his face, subtle and brief.

  Then, his lips pulled back. A slow, deliberate grin, razor-sharp and unyielding.

  "Oh... this is interesting," he murmured, before stepping forward once more, unhurried, relentless.

  Above, Cassandra leaned against a crumbling railing, her eyes locked on the scene below.

  She blinked. "Did he just stop because they ran?"

  Beside her, Sentinel remained still, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering. A slow breath left his nose. "It seems even he didn't expect that reaction."

  Cassandra dragged a hand down her face. "For the so-called chosen ones, they sure do run a lot."

  Sentinel's mouth twitched, barely enough to call a smirk. "They're assessing their options."

  She shot him a look. "Sir... they're sprinting away."

  He remained composed. "Tactical retreat."

  Below, the man strode forward, his pace unhurried yet deliberate as he watched the five vanish into the shadows of a distant corridor. He hadn't rushed after them. Instead, he tilted his head, as if relishing the chase. Then, his grin widened, something dark glinting in his eyes— and he advanced.

  Cassandra exhaled sharply. "Okay, yeah, he looks way too happy about this."

  Sentinel gave a slow nod. "Because he knows. No matter how far they run... eventually, they'll have to turn and face him."

  Cassandra frowned, eyes tracking their movement through the maze of shattered displays and collapsed shelving. "And if they don't?"

  Sentinel didn't look away. "They will. Because they must."

  Elias led the charge, breath ragged, boots pounding against the scuffed tile. They wove through the wreckage of what had once been a bustling shopping mall—vaulting over fallen beams, ducking past gutted storefronts, weaving between the skeletal remains of mannequins. Each step sent glass crunching underfoot, the sound swallowed by the pounding of their hearts.

  "We can't keep running forever!" Elias shot a glance over his shoulder, his grip tight on the hilt of his sword. "At this rate, we'll just get exhausted—"

  "Yeah, and then he'll murder us comfortably," Lyric snapped, pushing off a fallen clothing rack without breaking stride.

  Alice let out a sharp breath. "So, what? We stop and let him carve us up?"

  Elias gritted his teeth. "No. We have to face him."

  Thorne groaned, flinging out a hand as he ran. "Oh, brilliant idea, Elias! And tell me, how exactly do we defeat the guy with the magical, death-rope, nightmare weapon?"

  A voice rumbled in the back of Thorne's mind, deep and crackling like distant thunder. Perhaps instead of wasting breath panicking, you could use that energy to strategize?

  Oh, shut up, Thorne shot back at Pyrix.

  Aiden, sprinting beside him, deadpanned, "Thorne, if you're gonna have a meltdown, can you schedule it after we survive?"

  Thorne threw his hands up. "Oh sure! Right after 'try not to die horribly!'"

  Lyric let out an exasperated huff. "Less talking, more figuring out how we don't end up extra-crispy."

  Then—

  Elias skidded to a stop.

  Alice nearly slammed into his back. "Why'd we stop?! Are we surrendering? Because I'd really like to file an official complaint against that idea."

  Elias turned, his expression hardening. "No. We have to turn and face him."

  Silence.

  The distant click of footsteps echoed through the cavernous ruins. The same slow, measured pace.

  Aiden exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. "Well, since running obviously isn't working... let's see if he's as tough when we hit back."

  Thorne groaned. "Oh, fantastic. This is gonna end so well."

  Their breathing slowed. Muscles coiled.

  As they turned, the man was already there.

  A shadow carved from the dim light, his posture loose—relaxed—like a predator toying with its prey. His approach was unhurried, each step deliberate, the quiet scrape of steel against leather as his fingers idly traced the edge of his blade.

  His gaze slid over them, slow and methodical. Not just looking—measuring. Weighing. Twin pools of molten darkness, slit-pupiled and hungry, burning with an unnatural glow. The way a butcher assesses meat before the cut.

  Then, a sound.

  Low. Mocking.

  A chuckle.

  "So... these are the so-called Protectors of Zephyros?"

  The words slithered into the silence, colder than the air itself.

  A flicker of unease passed between them.

  How does he know who we are? Elias thought.

  The invader exhaled, shaking his head, the gesture laced with disappointment. "Hah. This is what the Eclipse Heart chose? A bunch of lost little misfits?"

  A pause. Then, a slow, deliberate smirk.

  "How disappointing."

  His presence seemed to stretch, pressing in like an unseen weight. His gaze sharpened, darkened—amusement fading into something else. Something hungry.

  "I expected warriors." His voice dipped, quiet, yet heavy with disdain. "Instead, I find children playing hero."

  Tension snapped through them like a pulled bowstring.

  Elias clenched his fists. Lyric's jaw tightened. Thorne's tail twitched. Alice's fingers curled, heat flickering between them. Aiden cracked his knuckles.

  The man's smirk deepened.

  "Oh?" His tone lilted, almost amused. "Did I strike a nerve?"

  Silence.

  A beat.

  Then—Elias stepped forward.

  No hesitation. No falter.

  His stance was firm. His gaze, burning.

  "You talk like the story's already written." A smirk ghosted across his lips, sharp with defiance. "Let's see what happens when we turn the page."

  Something flickered in the man's expression. Not irritation. Not anger.

  Delight.

  His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of his weapon. The steel links rasped as they coiled, a serpent preparing to strike.

  "Turn the page?" His chuckle was dark, dripping with amusement. "Let's see if you survive the next chapter."

  Then, without warning, he struck.

  His blade gleamed in the dim light, lunging for Elias' throat. Elias barely raised his sword in time, the clash of steel ringing through the hollow space. Sparks flew as the force sent him staggering back.

  Before he could recover, the man was already twisting—his free hand shooting forward in a brutal punch. Elias ducked, feeling the rush of air over his head.

  Aiden was there in an instant, hands darting to his belt as he drew his twin daggers in a single fluid motion. The blades flashed as he lunged, aiming for the man's exposed ribs. But the enemy twisted, pivoting on his heel, and lashed out with a sharp kick. Aiden barely managed to block with his forearm, but the impact still sent him skidding back.

  Alice lunged from the side, her knives cutting through the air. One strike aimed high, the other low. The man caught her wrist mid-swing, twisting sharply, forcing one knife from her grip. Alice gritted her teeth, retaliating with a sharp knee to his stomach. He barely flinched.

  Thorne took the opening. His spear came down in a deadly arc, aiming to pierce the man's shoulder. At the last second, the enemy released Alice and sidestepped. Thorne's spear hit nothing but air.

  The moment his feet touched the ground again, the man exhaled.

  Then, the shift.

  The blade in his grip trembled. And then—

  A pulse of lightning crackled through it. The metal twisted, reshaping itself. Segments unraveled like a serpent shedding its skin, elongating, connecting—until the simple dagger became a chain of blackened iron, coursing with veins of electric-red lightning, coiled in his grasp.

  Thorne's stomach dropped. "That's not fair."

  The man smirked.

  Then, with a flick of his wrist, the chain lashed out, a viper striking in all directions. Elias barely ducked in time as it snapped past his face, the serrated edges tearing through a broken column behind him. The force sent debris flying, blinding him for half a second.

  Thorne tried to deflect the chain with his spear—but the moment it made contact, a surge of electricity crackled through the weapon. Thorne's hands spasmed from the shock, forcing him to let go. His spear clattered to the ground.

  Aiden and Alice attacked from opposite sides, their blades aiming for vital points. The man flicked his wrist, the chain coiling around Aiden's arm before yanking him off his feet. Alice barely managed to duck as Aiden was flung past her.

  Lyric fired.

  The bolt cut through the air, straight for the enemy's head. At the last moment, he jerked sideways, letting the projectile skim past his cheek. Blue blood welled from the shallow cut.

  And then—he smiled.

  Elias' stomach twisted. He's getting stronger.

  No time to think. The chain shot toward him again, forcing him to roll out of the way. Alice followed his movement, pressing forward, her knife slashing toward the man's exposed side. He pivoted, caught her wrist, and drove a sharp elbow into her ribs. She gasped, stumbling back.

  Thorne recovered, kicking his spear up from the ground, catching it mid-air. He spun it, forcing the man to retreat a step—just enough for Elias to close the distance.

  Elias slashed. The man parried with the chain, wrapping it around Elias' sword mid-swing. He pulled—hard. Elias barely managed to hold on as his grip strained against the sudden force.

  Aiden came in low, swiping at the man's legs. The enemy leaped back, the chain snapping free from Elias' blade.

  Another bolt from Lyric. This time, it struck.

  A clean shot to his shoulder.

  The man staggered, blue blood dripping down his arm.

  And yet—his smile widened.

  "Not bad," he mused, rolling his shoulders. "But not good enough."

  Elias' stomach twisted. "What the hell...?"

  Every blow that landed, every drop of blood that spilled—only seemed to make him stronger instead of weakening.

  The man's grin stretched wider, his gaze locking onto Elias. "Ah. Noticed, did you?

  Then Aiden moved.

  His grip tightened around the hilts of his daggers—then, with a snarl, he released them. A violent crack tore through his body, bones shifting, muscles stretching as his form twisted. Fur erupted across his skin, his frame expanding in a blur of motion.

  In the space of a heartbeat, Fenrik stood where Aiden had been, dark fur bristling, golden eyes burning with untamed fury.

  Thorne swiped sweat from his brow, a grin tugging at his lips. "Finally," he panted. "Now we—"

  But before he could finish, Fenrik whirled and bolted.

  Thorne blinked. "Wait. What?"

  Lyric froze mid-step, her crossbow lowering slightly. "Did he just—"

  "You've got to be kidding me!" Thorne ducked as the chain-blade sliced through the air, sparks flying where it struck the ground beside him. "Aiden, you coward!"

  Inside Fenrik's mind, Aiden struggled against the beast's instincts, shoving, clawing—desperate to turn back. No! We can't run! We have to fight! But the primal fear overwhelmed him, drowning his thoughts in a singular need: escape.

  A low chuckle rumbled from the man's throat. "Smart beast."

  Then he attacked.

  The chain lashed out like a whip—Lyric barely had time to react before it snapped around her arm, the metal pulsing with energy. She gasped as she was yanked forward, straight into the man's knee. Pain exploded in her ribs, the breath ripped from her lungs as she crumpled to the ground.

  Thorne lunged, spear thrusting in a desperate counterattack, but the man caught his wrist mid-strike. A cruel twist—snap. Thorne's strangled cry tore through the air as his arm went limp. The next instant, a brutal kick to the chest sent him flying into a crumbling bench, splinters bursting around him.

  Elias charged next, sword flashing in the dim light. He barely managed two steps before the chain curled around his forearm like a living thing. Cold metal dug into his skin—then the man pulled. Elias was ripped forward, his balance lost just as the man's knee crashed into his ribs. The impact sent him sprawling, his sword clattering uselessly beside him.

  Alice was the last one standing.

  Her hand darted into her jacket, fingers closing around smooth glass. No time to hesitate.

  "EVERYONE, HOLD YOUR BREATH!"

  With a sharp motion, she smashed the vial against the ground.

  A thick mist exploded outward, curling through the ruined mall like living tendrils. The scent was sharp, almost electric, laced with illusion magic strong enough to twist the mind.

  The man inhaled—then staggered. His head snapped up, eyes flickering, body swaying as if the world around him had warped into something else entirely. His grip loosened on the chain-blade, fingers twitching as though caught in some unseen battle.

  Alice didn't wait to see if it worked.

  "Move!" she hissed, hauling Elias up by his arm. Lyric groaned, forcing herself onto unsteady feet. Thorne, clutching his injured limb, stumbled after them.

  They ran—dodging debris, slipping through the wreckage of shattered storefronts. Their breaths came harsh and uneven, the sting of exhaustion clawing at their bodies.

  Elias risked a glance back.

  The man stood motionless in the mist, his head tilted, lips parting as if murmuring to something unseen. Then—his fingers slackened completely. The chain-blade slithered from his grasp, clinking against the floor.

  The moment it touched the ground, the weapon began to shift.

  The coiling metal retracted, folding into itself, blackened iron warping—until all that remained was a single dagger resting in the dust.

  Elias' chest tightened. What the hell was that?

  No time to think. No time to ask questions.

  They needed to get out.

  Because if they didn't...

  They wouldn't live long enough to find out.