The cellar air was thick and heavy, the faint light of the lantern casting long shadows against the damp stone walls. Seth leaned against the far wall, watching Martha pace in the narrow space, her boots scuffing lightly against the packed dirt floor. She was restless, glancing toward the barred door as if expecting it to splinter at any moment.
"They're still out there," she said, her voice low. "Hunters don't give up this fast."
Seth crossed his arms. "Then we shouldn't wait for them to decide when to strike."
She stopped pacing and gave him a sharp look. "You've been here for what — an hour? You don't know how they work."
"Then explain it."
"They're not animals," she said. "They're worse. They think. They wait. And when you think you've lost them…" She tapped her temple with two fingers. "…that's when they're already behind you."
Seth absorbed her words in silence. He'd seen killers before, human ones. They relied on speed, on skill, on reading their opponent. This sounded different. The assassin from earlier had been dangerous, but at least he had spoken, taunted, given away hints of his mind. This sounded like the kind of danger that didn't need to talk.
The ground gave a faint, almost imperceptible shiver. Both of them felt it.
Martha's spear was in her hands instantly, the tip angled toward the door. Seth's own senses sharpened, the faint glow already building in his palm.
The first sound was subtle — a slow, deliberate scrape, like claws dragging along stone. Then came the growl. Low, guttural, and wrong. It was layered, as if more than one throat were producing it at once.
"They found us," Martha whispered.
The door shuddered under a heavy impact. The bar creaked but held. Dust sifted down from the ceiling.
"Is there another way out?" Seth asked.
"There's a hatch in the back," she said quickly. "But it leads into the open courtyard. If we go out there—"
The next strike against the door was harder. Wood splintered.
"—we'll be right in their teeth," she finished grimly.
Seth's light flared brighter. "Better than waiting for them to chew through the door."
Martha didn't argue. She moved fast, pushing past him toward the back wall. She pulled aside a rotting plank to reveal a small wooden hatch. Cold air seeped through the gaps.
"Go," she urged.
Seth lifted the hatch and pulled himself up first, emerging into the pale light of the fractured sky. The courtyard was open, ringed by half-collapsed walls and overgrown weeds. Martha was right — they'd be exposed here.
She climbed out behind him, scanning the perimeter with sharp, practiced eyes. "Stay low. Move—"
The cellar door exploded outward.
The thing that stepped into the courtyard was not human. Not anymore.
Its body was long and twisted, stretched into unnatural proportions. Its skin — if it could be called that — was a mottled gray-black, slick in places and cracked in others. The head was too wide, the jaw hanging open to reveal rows of needle-thin teeth that clicked together as it moved.
Its eyes — three of them, unevenly spaced across its face — burned with a pale, ghostly light.
Long claws scraped along the stone as it stepped forward, the sound piercing in the still air. And from its body… shadows poured, pooling unnaturally around its feet like oil.
Martha swore under her breath. "A Stalker. Fantastic."
Seth glanced at her. "Name fits."
"Don't underestimate it," she warned. "They don't just hunt. They play."
The creature tilted its head in a jerky, unnatural motion. The middle eye focused on Seth's glowing palm. The jaw clicked twice. Then it moved.
It didn't charge. It glided — impossibly fast, closing half the distance in a blink. Seth's instincts screamed. His arm came up, light bursting outward in a blinding flash.
The Stalker recoiled with a shriek that rattled the broken walls, its body arching back like a struck animal. But it didn't retreat.
Martha was already moving. Her spear thrust forward, aiming for its throat. The Stalker twisted unnaturally, its torso bending in ways no human could manage. The spear grazed its shoulder, tearing a shallow wound that leaked a black, viscous fluid.
The creature shrieked again — and vanished into the shadows at its feet.
Seth's light flared instinctively, pushing the darkness back. But the Stalker didn't reappear where expected.
Martha's eyes darted upward. "Seth—above!"
He spun. The Stalker dropped from the roof in a blur, claws slashing. Seth barely dodged, the tips catching his coat and slicing through fabric like paper. He countered with a palm strike of concentrated light to its side.
The impact threw the creature sideways, but it landed on all fours like a spider, claws digging deep into the stone.
It hissed — a sound that made the air vibrate. Shadows thickened around it again.
"This isn't working," Seth said.
"It's testing us," Martha said, moving to stand beside him. "They always do before they get serious."
The Stalker's body trembled. The pale light in its eyes burned brighter. Then it blurred forward again.
Martha met it head-on this time, her spear a silver arc that caught the creature across the jaw. The strike knocked its head to the side with a crack. Seth followed instantly, light erupting from his hand in a narrow beam. The concentrated glow seared across its chest, leaving smoking wounds that bubbled and hissed.
The Stalker shrieked in genuine pain this time, the sound almost satisfying. It lashed out wildly, claws slamming into the ground and leaving deep gouges.
But the strike had changed something.
The shadows around it wavered, no longer flowing as freely. Its movement faltered.
"We can hurt it," Martha breathed.
"Then we finish it," Seth said.
They pressed forward together. Martha struck low, forcing the creature to dodge upward. Seth's light slammed into its exposed flank, knocking it sideways. It scrambled to rise, but Martha was already there, her spear driving into its shoulder with a wet crunch.
The Stalker shrieked and thrashed, shadows whipping outward like tendrils. One caught Martha across the leg, pulling her off balance. She hit the ground with a grunt, spear still in hand.
Seth surged forward, light burning hotter in his palm. He slammed it into the creature's chest, point-blank. The burst was blinding, even to him.
When the glow faded, the Stalker was staggering. Its body smoked, cracks of light searing across its blackened skin. It hissed once more, weaker this time… then melted into the shadows at its feet.
The courtyard fell silent.
Martha pushed herself up, wincing. "It's not dead."
"No," Seth said quietly. "But it knows now."
She looked at him sharply. "Knows what?"
He met her gaze. "That the light can still burn it."
For a moment, they simply stared at each other in the fractured sunlight. Then, faintly, from somewhere deep in the ruins, the Stalker's howl echoed again.
Closer.