The forest roared with motion, but it wasn't the trees that made the noise. It was the carriage, rattling and swaying violently as Vartha tore forward with every ounce of strength in her body, her paws drumming a relentless beat against the ground. Behind them, the nightmare pursued. The first shadow—eyeless, formless, and shrieking like a blade dragged across glass—glided through the trees as if the world itself posed no barrier.
The chase was already dire, but then came the sound that turned fear into dread—another shriek, this one echoing from their left, faint yet undeniable.
There wasn't just one anymore.
Ilyrana's heart hammered in her chest, her every sense alert, her grip white-knuckled on the reins as she forced Vartha into another sharp zig-zag. The carriage groaned in protest, wheels bouncing dangerously off roots and uneven ground, but there was no time to think about damage now. Their pursuers were too close, too merciless, and far too alien.
