Chapter Eight: Hunted

The panther’s paws were soundless on stone.

Gwyn stalked through the low ravine, muscles fluid under fur, breath low and measured. She’d caught scent of a herd of creatures resembling a mix between rabbits and small dogs—a clustered burrow nested in the shade below a crooked purple-barked tree—and had planned to bring Clarissa something warm. Something fresh.

Something better than hunger.

But even as she prowled forward, she kept part of herself tethered to the cave.

Clarissa was still asleep.

The girl had curled into her side like a cub last night, warmth and sorrow bundled into a shivering shape. Gwyn had listened. She had decided she'd always listen.

And she would guard. Somehow she knew this was her purpose, her reason for coming to Clarissa in the first place.

A whisper of air brushed her fur. One with a bad scent.

Gwyn’s hackles rose.

She didn’t snarl, didn’t growl. Just vanished.

[Mana-Flicker]

Reality skipped. One heartbeat she was still—next, she flickered forward with violent grace, reappearing in mid-pounce.

Her jaws snapped shut around a furry, corded neck. The creature gurgled, black ichor spraying as its limbs flailed.

Skulker.

Twelve of them, fanning out behind the first. Yellow eyes. Rotted claws. The same filth-stink that had haunted Clarissa's nightmares.

Gwyn didn’t run.

She wouldn’t let them near her.

**SCENE BREAK**

I didn’t see her.

I felt her.

Pain, fury, and bloodlust roared across our mana bond, and I knew something had gone wrong. My boots scraped against the ledge as I scanned the canyon floor below.

And them:

The Skulkers.

Three of them, slinking like shadows through the mist and ivy-choked rocks. One of them paused—sniffing the air like it knew I was here. And it looked right up to me.

Where was Gwyn?

She wasn’t with these monsters. Not in sight. Just that distant pulse of rage and heat.

I clenched my fists, jaw tight.

“You picked the wrong me, assholes,” I muttered.

So I did the only thing I could.

[Mana-Flicker].

I vanished in a cloak of blue azure.

Reappeared on a lower ledge, then again on another—my feet skidding against the damp moss-covered stone. My left hand flared with flame.

[Fireball].

I hurled the explosive orb.

It streaked through the air like a comet and exploded in the middle of the canyon, catching the first Skulker mid-snarl. Its body twisted as fire wrapped it like a coffin.

I didn’t wait.

[Fireball].

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Another orb. Another burst.

The second creature shrieked, smoke trailing from its blister-ruptured spine. I felt the recoil, the mana strain—but I didn’t stop.

[Fireball].

The last one turned to flee.

Too late.

The blast caught it square in the back, launching it off its feet and into a broken tree trunk, where it didn’t move again.

Only one was truly dead, but the other two were both off their feet. Easy to finish off.

That’s when I felt her again and differently.

The bond surged—and snapped into clarity as Gwyn finally came into proper telepathy range.

“Enemies!” her voice rang in my head like thunder.

She plodded into the clearing, blood soaking her fur, deep gashes crisscrossing her flank. Her breath came ragged, but her golden eyes blazed with fury.

“Gwyn—”

Five more Skulkers crawled from the ravine behind her, moving with eerie purpose.

They’d been hunting her.

And now they’d found us both.

I grit my teeth.

Enough sniping.

I flickered down to the canyon floor, landing hard and mid-run. My left fingers flexed and extended—seeking a feeling and grip I barely understood but had come to love.

[Raging Blade] formed in my hand.

Flames coiled and snapped as it solidified into my summoned sword. I flickered again, behind the nearest Skulker, and drove the burning weapon through its gut.

But it spun. Too fast. My weapon stayed lodged in the monster.

Its claw skimmed my throat, almost taking my head. I gasped—then my eyes flashed with fire.

I activated [Raging Sorcery].

My sword exploded.

A burst of flame punched through the creature’s abdomen from the inside--leaving a massive burned hole in its torso. It dropped, twitching once, then stayed down.

Another Skulker roared.

I didn’t think.

[Fireball].

It ate the blast in the face and fell backwards with a gurgling screech. Not dead, but almost.

“Clarissa—behind!” Gwyn’s thought voice cracked like a whip.

I spun—

Too slow.

The monster leapt—

And Gwyn flickered through it, her claws tearing through flesh and bone like wet paper.

I stared.

But then—I was seeing what she saw.

Felt the world through her ears, her breath, her fury. It didn’t disorient me. It made sense.

Two minds. One hunt.

Bonded.

We moved together. I felt her predator's instincts fueling my own heated calm.

It was almost like we shared a mind... no. Not quite. It was like we were sharing two, for as much sense as that made.

But for as effective as that made us, it wasn't perfect. We slew two more monsters, but...

One Skulker caught my side with its claws. Pain bloomed bright.

I snapped.

And cast [Burning Hands].

My fists caught fire.

I punched the face of the monster that had wounded me--and then I had an idea just as I made contact.

[Raging Sorcery] activated.

The spell howled as it erupted around my connecting fist—blasting a fire-shockwave into the Skulker's skull.

Its head… wasn’t there anymore.

I staggered back, panting. Sweat stung my eyes. I looked to Gwyn.

She was dancing through the chaos, a crimson soaked wraith of fang and shadow. One lunged for her.

I didn’t even think.

[Burning Hands].

[Raging Sorcery].

I punched the air.

The fire magic curled from my knuckles, launched like a comet, and smashed into the Skulker’s chest with a shaking BOOM—sending it flying.

But I wasn't being given time for breaks.

Another monster at me.

I blocked its claw with my glaming blade, slashed across its knee, and jammed a fireball straight into its screeching mouth.

Its throat exploded.

The last one Skulker turned before Gwyn slammed into it.

She ripped its throat out with a snarl and didn’t stop ripping it out, again and again, until it stopped twitching entirely.

And then… silence.

Only the crackle of dying flames and my own heartbeat thudding in my ears.

I stood, chest heaving. I was hurt, bleeding from my side. I must have missed the System notification--but I wasn't dying.

“Guess they didn’t realize we’d leveled up, huh, Gwyn?”

No answer.

Just a rush of vertigo across the bond.

“Gwyn?”

She collapsed. The panther's large body fell into the tall, and flame-scorched blue-green grass.

My heart stopped.

“Gwyn!” I scrambled to her, dropped to my knees beside her bloodied form. Her chest was rising—barely. "How many did you fight before you got here?!"

She was still breathing.

“Hang on,” I whispered, fingers trembling.

***SCENE BREAK***

Deep within a cleft halfway down the cliffside, a girl crouched, wrapped in simple clothes and tangled hair that shimmered like dying ember-leaves. She watched the battle from behind carmine and amber ivy, her breath caught in her throat.

A Caliban. Not yet a woman, not quite a child.

She’d come up from the cave networks, even against her community's rules. She craved the outside world... wanted to see what had been stolen from her people. It was why she regularly snuck away despite the trouble it brought her.

And now, she stared down at a woman who had summoned flame like it was breath itself. Who had danced through death, side by side with a panther as large as a wagon... one that looked almost like the old Guardian Spirit of the Western Wilds--but that didn't appear to be under the corrupted control of Cowagen.

She didn’t think Caliban could be strong enough to kill that many Skulkers.

Not alone. Not anymore.

And never like her.

The raven-haired warrior looked like a goddess in shredded clothing.

Generously curved and fierce and radiant with impossible grace—like a story given skin. Like someone carved from fire and storm and hope.

The Caliban’s voice trembled in her throat, quiet and soft.

“…But there aren't any left.”

And she felt a pull.

Not of fear.

But of fate.