The night air is thick and suffocating. My movements are swift and silent as I glide through the underbrush, my senses hyperaware of every rustle and whisper in the darkness. The world around me blurs into shades of grey, like a haunting dream. My breaths are slow, deliberate, but my heart thunders like a war drum.

  'They deserve this,' I tell myself, gritting my teeth with determination. 'What kind of people do this? She’s just a kid—a child.'

  'And they think they can take her, use her, break her, and no one will stop them.' Even the voice that normally mocks me, that questions my every choice, is silent now. For once, it agrees. 'No one will make them pay?'

  My grip tightens on the hilt of my blade. 'Well, they’re wrong, Del,' I confirm. 'This time, there’s someone who will. Someone who can.'

  I exhale sharply, trying to steady the inferno burning in my chest. 'This isn’t revenge, mate,' I tell myself, though the rage in my veins whispers otherwise. 'This is justice.'

  The image of the scout’s lifeless body flashes in my mind, his blood staining the ground beneath him. I can still feel the wet crunch of his skull beneath my boot, but instead of disgust, it only fuels the fire roaring in my chest. They took Naomi. They dared to take her from us. And for that, every single one of them will pay with their lives.

  'She’s just a kid,' I am calm, deliberate. 'You made a big mistake taking her.'

  Misty’s words echo in my mind: 'About a dozen of them, hidden in the woods near the crossroads.' She had delivered the report with a cold efficiency that matched my mood. No jokes. No sarcasm. Even she could feel the storm brewing inside me.

  I pause, crouching low behind a thicket, my eyes locking on the faint glow of their campfire in the distance. The camp is a chaotic mess, filled with drunken laughter and shouting. The smell of alcohol and smoke fills the air, mixing with the stench of sweat and unwashed bodies. But I am not here to take in the sights or smells.

  The bandits’ laughter carries on the wind, a stark contrast to the anger boiling in my veins. They’re laughing. Laughing while Naomi is suffering, while Joel’s family huddles in terror at the farmhouse.

  'They think they’re safe,' I snarl inwardly. 'They think they can do whatever they want without consequence.'

  'Well, Del,' I agree. 'Let’s show them what consequences look like.'

  I shift my weight, testing the ground beneath me for any sign of disturbance. The soft earth yields easily under my feet, a testament to my heightened senses and newfound agility. It's still hard to believe how effortlessly I move now compared to just weeks ago. My current level sends a thrill of exhilaration through my body. Back on Earth, I would have been nothing compared to these men. But here, in this foreign land, I am something else entirely. Faster, stronger...a predator among prey. Every step I take is purposeful and precise, fuelled by a primal instinct and an insatiable desire to conquer and dominate. The thought alone sends a shiver down my spine and ignites a fire within me. The camp grows closer with every silent step. I count eight figures around the fire, their shadows dancing on the surrounding trees. Two more linger near the edge of the clearing, sentries who aren’t paying nearly enough attention. And then there’s him—Karth. I recognise the scarred face from Misty’s description, the cruel smile stretched across his lips as he sharpens a blade that glints in the firelight.

  My hands curl into fists. 'You’re going to tell me everything, Karth. Every last detail.'

  The first sentry was so lost in thought that he didn't even hear my approach. My dagger glided through his flesh like a silent whisper, the tip finding its mark in his vulnerable throat. With a gentle lowering, I laid him down on the ground, leaving no trace of our encounter.

  His companion had barely enough time to register my presence before my blade pierced his heart, cutting off any chance for an outcry. As I stood over their lifeless bodies, I watched as the crimson liquid seeped into the earth, adding to the already rich soil beneath my feet. The night air was heavy with the scent of death and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of remorse before continuing on my mission.

  'Stop that, Del,' I react to the feeling angrily. 'Time to consider actions comes later.'

  The firelight flickers as I step into the clearing. Eight heads turn toward me, their expressions ranging from surprise to terror.

  “Who the hell are you?” one of them barks, scrambling for his weapon.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I don’t answer. Words are wasted on the dead.

  The first one lunges for me, a large axe swinging dangerously close to my face. I duck and roll, coming up behind him and driving my sword through his back. The others hesitate for only a moment before attacking with renewed fury.

  Without breaking a sweat, I dance through their strikes, my sword and dagger moving in deadly unison. They’re skilled fighters, but no match for someone who’s so much stronger, so much faster.

  What I don’t have in technique I make up for in raw power and rage.

  A sharp pain lances through my arm as one of them manages to graze me with a knife. I barely even feel it as I retaliate with a swift kick to his chest. He goes down hard, and I finish him off with a clean cut to the throat.

  The remaining four bandits are starting to realise that they’re outmatched. One of them turns tail and runs, but I’m faster. My dagger flies through the air and finds its mark between his shoulder blades.

  My senses are heightened, every nerve on edge as I hear the distinct whistle of a sword sailing past my ear. With a swift and calculated response, I launch myself into a spinning kick that sends the wielder sprawling. My own blade follows suit, severing his head from his shoulders with one fluid motion. His body crumples to the dirt, and I am already moving onto the next target.

  I lose myself in the chaos, in the blood and screams. Limbs fly in all directions as I fight for those I love. My body moves with an innate sense of purpose, a deadly dance of steel and fury that seems to come from somewhere deep within me. Though a small part of my mind knows this isn't who I am, it's been overridden by the primal survival instincts that have taken over. In this moment, nothing else matters.

  The last bandit falls with a gurgling cry, the coppery scent of blood fills the air, mingled with the stench of sweat and fear. The bandit's body releases a pungent odour as his bowels release upon death. I turn to face Karth.

  Grim determination etches itself onto Karth's face as he stands at the edge of the clearing, his sword gripped tightly in his hand. A mixture of fear and defiance radiates from him, but I am unfazed.

  “You think you’re some kind of hero?” he sneers, raising his sword. “You’re nothing but a butcher.”

  His taunts fall on deaf ears as my own blade meets his with a resounding clang. The battle begins.

  Despite his strength and speed, Karth is no match for me. I dance around him, my movements fluid and calculated. He swings wildly, but each strike is easily parried or dodged. I toy with him, letting him think he has a chance. A shallow cut to his arm. A slash across his thigh. With each blow, his movements grow slower and more desperate.

  “You are fucking scum,” he screams at me. “Worse than the lowest of these bastards you tore apart.”

  I ignore him, batting aside his strikes with ease. His once powerful sword, now a weight he can barely lift. His legs tremble and his breath comes out in ragged gasps as he collapses to his knees.

  “Where is she?” I demand, my voice icy and sharp, cutting through the tense air.

  He spits blood onto the ground, his eyes full of hatred as he glares up at me. “Go to hell.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  With a swift kick, I send him sprawling to the ground, his body crumpling under the force of my boot. “Where is Naomi?” My voice echoes with a dangerous edge, daring him to give me the answer I seek. The scent of sweat and iron fills my nostrils as I wait for his response, my heart racing with anger and determination.

  His resolve quickly crumbles under my relentless assault. Sweat beads on his forehead and his once proud posture slumps as I beat him into submission. Blood gushes from his broken nose and mouth as he gasps for air, begging for mercy and spilling the answers I so desperately need.

  Naomi is locked in a shed, tied, shackled and sedated with listwort.

  Karth doesn’t tell me easily what plans he had in store for her. Another broken finger or three makes him talk through swollen bloody lips.

  “She has power, could feel it,” he spits out a gobbet of phlegmy blood. “Was in a trance in the hay barn. Magic slaves are valuable across the sea in Easher.”

  He glares up at me, well as best he can through puffed and swollen eyes.

  I just look down at him in disgust and with a quick flick of my wrist I open his throat to the evening air.

  The metallic clang of steel and screams pierce through the fog of war, snapping me back to reality. My adrenaline-fuelled heart pounds furiously in my chest as I whip my head towards the source, my mind racing with thoughts of loved ones on the line.

  Without hesitation, I bolt forward at breakneck speed, the wind roaring past my ears as I navigate through the woods. The ground blurs beneath my feet, my muscles straining with every powerful stride. A single mission drives me forward, a fire burning fiercely within me.

  As I approach the farmhouse, the sound of battle fills the air. Elara's arrows whistle through the evening’s fading light, each one hitting its target with deadly accuracy. Her movements are fluid and graceful as she defends Joel’s home from the invading bandits.

  Misty, in her hellcat form, is a blur of fur and fury, tearing through the remaining bandits like a wild storm. Their desperate cries mix with the clash of weapons and the roar of flames from the burning buildings nearby. The smell of smoke and blood fills my nostrils as I race around, my heart pounding with adrenaline and fear for my friends' safety. Despite the chaos, I know I can trust in Elara's skilled archery and Misty's ferocious strength.

  I skid to a halt, and take in the scene. The ground is littered with the lifeless bodies of their attackers, crimson pools of blood forming beneath them. Elara stands at the centre of the carnage, her bow held loosely in her hand and her chest heaving with exertion. Misty, her white fur now stained with splatters of blood, pads over to me with a proud glint in her eyes.

  'Took you long enough,' she remarks, her voice dry as ever. With a flick of her tail she settles down to begin the arduous task of carefully cleaning every speck from her coat. She had fought bravely as always, defending her pack from this brutal attack.

  The stench of death and viscera hangs heavy in the air as we stand amidst the aftermath of the battle. But despite it all, we are victorious and our spirits soar with a sense of triumph.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. They’re safe. For now.

  “Naomi,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I know where she is. Let’s go get her.”