By late afternoon, most of the students had cores tucked safely away in their pouches. The hunt had been rough—scratches, torn uniforms, and exhaustion showed on every face—but they carried themselves a little taller than they had that morning. Each new core was proof that they had survived, proof that they were growing stronger.
Kael's group trailed behind Jorin as they began the long trek back toward the transport point. The grove of twisted trees stretched endlessly in every direction, branches arching like the skeletons of some ancient beast. Their footsteps crunched against the dry ground, and the air carried the faint metallic tang of blood and dust.
Kael said little, his dagger loose in his grip, though his mind replayed each fight in fragments—how close the talons had come, the weight of the beast crashing down, the way Feyla's hand had lingered just a moment longer in his own. He forced the thoughts aside. Nathan's words still echoed in the back of his mind: power without control will consume you.
It was then the scream tore through the forest.
Not the shriek of a beast mid-attack, but something far worse—a drawn-out, broken cry, a death scream. Every student froze where they stood. The sound reverberated through the trees, chilling in its finality.
Jorin's expression darkened instantly. "Move. Now."
The group sprinted toward the source, weapons drawn, nerves fraying. Branches snapped underfoot as they broke through a thicket, only to find Bren standing over the bloodied form of a fallen skybeast. His mace dripped red as he raised it again and brought it down with another brutal crunch, though the beast was already motionless.
At his side, three of his teammates lay sprawled in the dirt—two clutching wounds that bled freely, the third unmoving.
"Idiot…" Jorin muttered, voice low but venomous.
Then Kael saw it. Above.
The sky churned with movement—dozens of shadows circling between the branches. Red-scaled wings caught the fading light as nearly twenty skybeasts wheeled overhead, their eyes burning with fury. The air vibrated with their cries, each echoing the scream of the slain.
The students staggered back in horror. "There's too many," someone whispered.
The beasts began to descend, slow and deliberate, surrounding the clearing like vultures preparing to feed. Their talons glistened, their beaks clicking with anticipation. The trees groaned under the weight as more perched along the edges, wings folding tight as if waiting for a signal.
Bren, oblivious or uncaring, stood tall and smirked, lifting the core he had ripped free from his kill. "Let them come," he growled. "I'll take them all."
Kael's stomach twisted. The arrogance in his voice carried no fear, but also no plan. His teammates groaned in the dirt, unable to rise.
"Bren, stop!" Mira shouted. "You'll get us all killed!"
Feyla grabbed Kael's wrist, her fingers trembling. "We can't fight twenty of them. Not together, not like this."
But Jorin had already stepped forward. His frame seemed to grow larger, the fading sunlight catching in his yellow hair as sparks of electricity crackled faintly across his arms. He raised one hand, steady, calm in the face of the storm of wings above.
"Everyone—fall back behind me," he ordered, voice like iron.
Even Bren flinched at the command.
The skybeasts screeched again, their chorus shaking the branches until bark rained down like ash. One by one, they angled their wings and dove, red streaks cutting through the air straight for the clearing.
Kael's breath caught. His dagger felt impossibly small in his grip.
Jorin's eyes narrowed. Lightning coiled along his arm like a living serpent.
"Stay close," he growled, "and do not break formation."
The forest exploded as the first wave struck.