The beast's screech echoed through the ashen woods, primal and furious.
Kivas staggered slightly, wings still flared from her retreating slash, the warmth of adrenaline burning in her limbs.
Her breath came quick, ragged. But even as her pulse screamed for her to run, to move, to do anything, a thought gnawed at the back of her mind.
That strike should've failed.
The beast had moved too fast. Its leap had been deadly, deliberate. She shouldn't have had time to react, let alone wound it.
So what slowed it down?
Her eyes flicked to the beast, which now paced in jagged arcs, snarling low as blood trailed from the gouge on its oversized, human-like face. Its expression twisted with venom. But even then… its movements didn't feel quite right.
Too stilted. Like something resisted it. Not her—something else.
Fate Weaver?
The phrase pulsed in her mind like a half-forgotten whisper. A title—no, a power—she saw back in the Well of the Soul. Back when she first awakened.
Could that be what was bending the edges of this fight?
She couldn't confirm it. But she felt it. In the way the air folded right before danger struck. In the way the beast's claw had hesitated, just a fraction too late. Something was weaving chances for her.
Kivas narrowed her eyes and leveled her sword at the beast.
"You might be the smartest creature alive," she said, gassing the beast up, "but your head is as hot as it is big. How about a calm and civil compromise? You know, like all intelligent beings usually conclude."
Kivas was not the most confident here, the tremble in her knees told her so. But her grin didn't falter.
The beast didn't speak. It simply roared—and charged.
Its claws tore up the ground, dirt and dead leaves flying in the air like shrapnel. Kivas ducked under the first swipe, spun around the second, and narrowly dodged the backhand that would've flattened her ribs.
But again—again—she felt it.
That pull, just before impact. Like the world twisted to buy her a split second.
Was it luck? Or a goddamn divine cheat code that she possessed?
Whatever it was, she wasn't complaining.
Many and many times, she saved her life by a hair-length, just enough to not leave a wound.
She twirled mid-dodge, wings tilting to redirect her momentum, the sword flashing as she countered—not to hit, but to draw the beast back and away from her exposed side.
It worked, briefly. The creature hissed, recoiled.
Then the beast stopped.
Its muscles tightened, posture shifting low to the earth. Kivas paused for a split second, enough to notice the twitch in its massive shoulders.
"Wait—!"
The ground exploded.
A claw powerfully smashed into the earth in front of her, not to strike but to disrupt. Dirt flew in a choking, blinding cloud, a brown-black screen of grit and dust that filled her nose and stung her eyes.
She coughed—just once—before pain came.
Something weighty collided with her ribs like a swinging gate of bone and muscle, and she flew.
Straight into the trees.
Or, more accurately—straight into her shelter.
"Urgh…" she realized that she was far too comfortable. "What a nasty hit…"
The structure splintered. Her makeshift shelter buckled under her impact. Debris rained down—wood fragments, leafy scraps, broken makeshift tools. At this point, most of them were useless.
Kivas also hit the forest floor hard, her wings splayed beneath her. One leg throbbed with a sharp twist of pain. The sword had tumbled from her fingers. She groaned and crawled back until her spine slammed against the tree beside her ruined shelter.
The beast laughed, slow and hoarse. Its violet eyes gleamed through the fading dirt cloud like twin moons drenched in spite.
"Cocky little featherbag," it growled, licking its jagged lips. "You've got the most annoying taste in dialogue."
Kivas blinked away dust. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She spat, dragging herself upright just enough to retrieve her blade and plant its tip into the dirt.
"Sorry," she rasped. "I get chatty when I'm not dead yet."
The beast prowled closer, stepping over the wreckage.
"No more lies. No more poison. You're broken now. I'll snap those pretty wings. Tear out your eyes. Grind your bones into paste. Then I'll wear your guts like garlands. Lovely, musical little garlands—"
Before it could finish its sentence, the entire forest shook.
Kivas flinched. The beast froze.
A shadow fell across them both, massive and silent, but with a weight that was unmistakable. And then, something crashed from above.
A colossal form struck the earth, slamming directly onto the beast's back and shoulders, driving it face-first into the dirt. The impact shook trees. The wind shuddered. Kivas felt her ribs vibrate from the shockwave.
The beast didn't even scream.
Its body twitched once, then lay still—pinned under a limb large enough to crush carriages. Dust choked the clearing. Fiendish ichor sprayed across broken leaves.
A new presence loomed above beyond the darkened gradient.
Massive.
Ancient.
Watching.
Kivas, still slumped against the tree, dared not breathe.