The plains were quiet when they first crossed into them. The stars hung low, shimmering like silver lanterns scattered across the void, and the grass beneath Hine's boots whispered as if alive. It felt almost peaceful, the kind of quiet that made one believe the world was at rest.
But the Silent Soul had stopped moving. He stood perfectly still, his shadow pooling unnaturally across the earth.
"Why are we stopping?" Hine asked, brushing loose strands of hair from her forehead. The air was colder here, thick with the scent of dew and something faintly metallic.
"Because they are here," he said. His voice was low, sharpened by a tension she had never heard before.
Hine frowned. "Who is here?"
The Soul's eyes glinted with something that might have been fear. "Night Beasts. The corrupted. The remains of those who once fought for the Night Kingdom but lost their forms to the wars of the ancients. They do not sleep. They do not reason. They only consume."
Before she could respond, the ground trembled beneath her boots. A faint vibration, like a whisper rising from the deep earth, grew into a low, guttural hum. The wind died. The stars dimmed.
And then came the first howl.
It tore through the stillness, a ragged cry so raw it rattled her bones. Hine's hand flew to the shard at her chest. It burned like a living flame, the glow spilling between her fingers.
"They sense you," the Soul said, stepping forward, his figure unraveling slightly into mist. "Stay close to me. And do not run."
The grass around them shifted. What had been quiet plains moments ago were now alive with movement. Shapes crawled through the shadows, sleek and twisted, their forms distorted like broken reflections in a cracked mirror.
One of the beasts emerged into the faint light. Its body was long and thin, a tapestry of black and gray sinew, with limbs too many and a jaw that unhinged wider than any creature should. Its eyes glowed like fractured moons, locked onto her.
Hine froze. The shard pulsed in warning, the rhythm matching her racing heartbeat.
The Soul stepped between her and the beast, his presence radiating a cold force that made the creature hesitate. "They do not fear me," he said, his voice like stone grinding. "But they remember. They will hesitate. For a moment."
The moment ended when the second beast lunged from the shadows.
Hine moved instinctively, rolling across the damp earth as claws raked the ground where she had stood. Dirt and sparks flew. She scrambled to her feet, the shard blazing so brightly that the sigil carved on its surface flickered like lightning.
"Move!" the Soul barked. His command carried weight, and Hine obeyed, her feet pounding against the soil as she ran toward the ridge ahead. The plains erupted behind her in chaos... howls, snarls, the sound of something massive tearing through the earth.
She did not dare look back until the ground pitched beneath her feet. Her ankle twisted, sending her sprawling. Pain flared white-hot, but there was no time to register it. One of the beasts barreled toward her, its many limbs scraping against the ground with unnatural speed.
The shard reacted. Light exploded from her chest, forming a barrier just as the creature's claws came down. The impact sent her skidding backward, the air forced from her lungs.
"Get up," the Silent Soul's voice cut through the ringing in her ears. His shadow lashed outward, striking the beast and hurling it back into the dark. "You have to keep moving. They will not stop until one of us is dead."
Her legs trembled as she pushed herself up. Every muscle screamed for her to stop, to collapse and wait for it to end, but she bit back the fear clawing at her throat. She had promised herself she would not break, not here.
More shadows stirred around them. She could see their outlines now, half a dozen, maybe more, their glowing eyes circling like predators closing in on prey.
"Why are they after me?" she managed to whisper.
"They are drawn to power," the Soul said, never taking his gaze off the encroaching beasts. "And you carry a piece of something far greater than yourself."
The first beast lunged again, faster this time. The Soul met it head-on, his form shifting into a mass of dark energy that collided with the creature midair. The impact shook the ground, sending shockwaves through the grass.
"Hine," his voice cut through the chaos, cold and commanding. "Use the shard. Focus it. Let it answer you."
Her breath came in ragged gasps. She clutched the shard, willing it to do something, anything, as the beasts closed in from every angle. The glow flared, bright enough to blind her, and then heat surged through her veins.
For a moment the world slowed. Every sound dulled except for the sharp crackle of the shard's energy coursing through her. When the nearest beast lunged, she moved without thinking, her hand slicing through the air.
Light erupted in a sweeping arc, tearing through the creature and scattering it into ash.
The Soul turned to her, his expression unreadable, but there was something almost approving in the way his eyes flickered. "Good," he said. "Now again."
The next few moments blurred into motion and light. She fought with a desperation that bordered on madness, each pulse of the shard stronger, sharper, until the last of the beasts collapsed into shadow and silence reclaimed the plains.
When it was over, she collapsed to her knees. Her arms trembled violently, her lungs burned, and every inch of her body ached as if she had been broken and remade in the span of minutes.
The Soul moved to her side, his presence like an anchor against the whirlwind of fear and adrenaline.
"You should not have survived that," he said quietly. "Most do not."
"I am not most," she whispered, her voice raw. Her hands were still shaking, but there was a fire in her chest that burned through the exhaustion. "I told you I would not stop."
He studied her for a long moment, silent. Then, finally, he inclined his head, the faintest acknowledgment of her resolve.
"The Night Beasts will remember you," he said. "And they will not forgive what you have done tonight. You have marked yourself, Hine. The next time, they will not hesitate."
Hine looked out over the plain, the wind stirring the grass once more as if nothing had happened. But the glow of the shard still lingered, soft and steady against her skin, and she felt the weight of what it meant.
"Let them come," she said, her voice low but unwavering. "I will be ready."
The Soul said nothing, but in the dim starlight, something in his expression shifted... a fleeting shadow of respect, almost too brief to notice.
Together, they continued forward, deeper into the unknown, the silence of the plains broken only by the distant echo of the beasts that had survived, retreating but not gone.
The road ahead was darker now, and far more dangerous.
And for the first time, Hine welcomed it.