He rolled away from the tree he'd been hiding behind, just in time to dodge its snapping jaws. The beast crashed straight into the trunk with a sickening thud. It turned, wood splinters still stuck between its teeth, and glared at him with eyes that promised death.
In his trembling hand, he gripped nothing but a single branch. Behind the monster lay the rest of the pile—his only real chance at weapons. How was he supposed to fight this thing? This branch was half-broken, a joke against fangs like knives.
The tail!
Pain shot through his ribs as its tail slammed into him like a battering ram. He crashed against another tree, bones rattling. But by some cruel twist of luck—or mercy—he was flung far enough to stagger back to his feet. Bruised, breathless, but alive.
No miracles?
Yet something faint flickered at the edge of his vision. A white aura wrapped around him, soft as mist. Warmth numbed the pain, pushing it back just enough to stand. The beast turned its snarling maw toward him again. No more running. If he couldn't overpower it, he'd outthink it.
Plan. He needed a plan. Whatever this strange force was—whatever voice whispered at the back of his mind—he'd use it. So long as he didn't die in one bite.
Fog thickened around him, wrapping the forest in a shifting curtain of gray. He stumbled through it, ducking behind another tree. The beast's footsteps thundered past, missing him by inches. Its nose twitched. It snarled, pacing the clearing—circling, sniffing, waiting. One wrong move, and it would be on him again.
What now? Deep inside, he knew he couldn't win. But another voice rose, coiling through his skull.
Get up and fight.
Calm. Commanding. Unyielding. He tried to ignore it, but the voice only multiplied.
Use that power.
No—give in. Become ours.
Hahaha.
Don't trust them.
Pain knifed through his head. A chorus of laughter and whispers—all the same voice, split into countless shades. For a moment, he forgot the beast. The forest fell silent, his pulse roaring in his ears.
When he opened his eyes, the monster was right beside him. So close he could smell the rot on its breath. It hadn't seen him—hidden by the fog. His hand clenched around the