The night hung heavy over Gravemount Hollow, a forest talked about in the North for reasons no one liked to name aloud.
Clouds dragged sluggishly across the sky, shrouding a bright red moon that cast a sickly wash over the soaked treetops.
The ground below still glimmered faintly with the remnants of rain, mud shifting under the lightest step.
Crows muttered in the branches overhead; owls sent their low calls drifting between the trunks; crickets chirred in a thin chorus.
Nature carried on as if it had endured centuries of nights like this…and it likely had.
Yet tonight, there was another sound. Not natural. Not gentle.
Forceful.
thm—thm—thm—thm…
It rolled along a narrow path that cut through the Hollow, pushing the smaller creatures back into brush and hollows. Birds shifted in the branches; a few took off entirely, wings snapping against the damp air.
At an intersection deeper within, a withered wooden signpost trembled under the growing force.
Its wood had rotted almost to the point of collapse, but its letters still defied time:
Village of Saint Viel — the misspelling scratched crudely, as though carved in irritation rather than care.
Beneath it: 24 km ahead.
The board shuddered harder. Mud along its base quivered in tiny ripples. Leaves and loose bark pieces rattled across the path, pushed by the unseen thing approaching at a reckless stride.
The trees to the east bowed slightly as a rushing wind preceded the creature behind it—
And then the source burst into view.
A horse—if one could still call it such—stormed down the path.
Lean muscle ran tight over an enormous frame, twice the size of a Shire stallion. Its coat was so dark the moonlight slid off it without catching, save for the faintest ripple where rainwater clung to its hide.
Its eyes, however—those were impossible to miss. Two burning, blood-red orbs set deep in its skull.
Its breath tore from its nostrils in clouds of thick white vapour each time its hooves struck the ground—
whuff—whuff—whuff—
—and every impact cracked the mud beneath it. Trees with shallow roots leaned aside as though refusing to obstruct its path.
Upon its back sat a lone rider.
The cloak wrapped around them was heavy, thick wool, its edges soaked and tipped with clumps of forest dirt.
It snapped and flared at the wind of the horse's mad sprint. Gloved hands rested loosely on the animal—far too casually for the speed at which they travelled, especially with no saddle nor bridle guiding the beast.
Long strands of pale blonde hair streamed freely from beneath the hood, catching just enough of the moon's glow to stand out against the blackness.
The rider cast a brief glance behind.
Nothing. Only trees bending in the wind and the ceaseless murmur of the forest.
They turned back toward the intersection as the horse thundered past the sign—sending it rattling so violently it nearly tore loose from its post. Mud splashed high with every step as the rider guided the horse toward the direction of Saint Veil.
The wind carried the smell of wet bark. Damp moss. And… a faint metallic one that had no business drifting through the woods at this hour.
The rider's gaze flicked left, then right, as if expecting the shadows themselves to leap out.
At that moment… a flash tore across the clouds—
CRACK—!
Lightning burned the sky white for the briefest instant.
And in that instant, the rider saw something move.
A silhouette—too large for any woodland creature—ran parallel through the trees. It moved with unnatural grace for something of its bulk, slipping between trunks as though born of the forest's darkness.
Its outline was jagged, limbs too long, gait too heavy.
The rider's breath slowed, not in fear, but calculation.
'There you are.'
A growl then rolled through the forest, deep enough to make the puddles shiver.
The horse didn't flinch. Its stride evened, then lengthened, hooves carving slick furrows through the mud.
More growls followed—mangled, wet, almost spoken.
The rider remained poised, lowering slightly into the horse's motion.
Thunder grumbled overhead, swallowed by thicker clouds drifting in.
Another lightning strike—
KRSHH—!
This time the beast shifted direction.
The rider's head snapped toward the sound, hood throwing water from its brim—
—and the creature burst from the tree line.
A monstrous, dog-like thing, its body twisted as if someone had sculpted it from nightmares instead of flesh. Spines jutted along its back like splintered bone.
Its jaws stretched too wide, lined with mismatched teeth that clacked together as it ran. Eyes burned with a faint, starving gleam, and its gait carried a sickening mix of loping speed and dragging weight.
Its paws hit the ground in uneven, crushing blows—
thud—skrch—thud—
—its breath a rasping wheeze of heat and rot.
The rider shifted her weight forward, guiding the great dark horse into a hard turn toward the monstrous shape.
Mud sprayed beneath the stallion's hooves as she leaned into the motion. With a subtle pull of her wrist, the horse reared back on its hind legs—
whrr—CRUNCH!
The sudden rise sent her heavy cloak spilling downward, the hood falling back in a sweep of wet wool.
Her face caught the blood-moon's glow.
Bright blue eyes—clear, watchful—met the world without flinching. Long black hair, soaked at the ends, unfurled from beneath the hood and clung to her cheeks.
Her features held an ethereal symmetry: high cheekbones, a straight, finely sculpted nose, and an expression carved with quiet severity. There was a cold poise to her beauty, it almost seemed inherited from some forgotten lineage.
As the horse rose, her coat shifted around her frame, brushing against her waist and hips, drawing tight across her chest before loosening again as the stallion steadied.
Rain rolled along the fabric, gathering at the hem before breaking into droplets that fell in thin streaks when the horse came down.
The beast's strike missed her by inches.
Its claws cut through the space where the horse's flank had been a second earlier, slicing empty air.
Carried by its own reckless momentum, the creature stumbled sideways, its weight dragging through the mud in a half-roll as it crashed back into a crouch.
The horse however was already moving—an elegant blur surging forward with the grace of a creature born of storms.
From the opposite side, a second beast had hurled itself out of the thicket.
KRSHH—!
But it collided with its companion mid-lunge, the two grotesque forms tangled in a sliding heap.
Mud splattered in wide arcs as they rolled once, then twice, limbs scrabbling before they regained their footing.
Their roars followed the rider, harsh and low, heavy enough to shiver the branches overhead.
They gave chase.
Their strides grew enormous, each impact deepening the ruts in the forest path. Their breaths wheezed through disfigured jaws—ragged, heated, ravenous.
The rider cast a glance back, her brow tightening in a faint frown. Even beneath the blood moon, her features remained composed, almost otherworldly in their calm.
"Persistent vermin," she murmured, her voice clipped and cultured, suited more for old halls rather than muddy roads.
The horse answered with a deep huff, steam curling from its nostrils.
She reached forward and stroked the damp hide along its neck. "Only a little further, Edora. They will not pursue us past the border."
The stallion quickened, muscles tightening under her touch. Wind tore at her coat, forcing the heavy wool to billow behind her as she gathered it around her front with one hand—protective, careful, as though shielding something hidden beneath the layers.
Behind them, the beasts drew closer.
One lunged, claws slashing across the air. The swipe caught only the edge of Edora's flank—a grazing blow that left a thin streak of disturbed fur.
The horse leapt forward at once, vaulting over a broken log with startling ease.
The monster overshot its mark and slammed into its fellow yet again.
THUD—SKRRCH—!
Both creatures tumbled again, this time snapping at each other in blind annoyance. Jaws clamped, claws raked, the two brutes momentarily forgetting their quarry as they thrashed in the mud.
The rider looked back once more, a quiet scoff slipping past her lips.
"Did they truly believe such creatures could hope to overtake me?"
Her tone remained elegant and cool, as if commenting on poor manners at a dinner table rather than hunted murder.
Edora carried her onward, hooves splashing through puddles as they vanished around a narrow bend, swallowed by the deeper shadows of the forest path.
Behind them, the beasts continued their brawl. One seized the other by the neck, teeth sinking into gristled flesh. A muffled snarl built into a brutal shake—
"Cease this foolishness at once!"
A voice suddenly yelled.
Both monsters froze.
Slowly, they peeled away from each other, lowering their bodies until their spines curved in submissive posture. Their muzzles hovered near the mud, chests heaving.
They backed away from the eastern edge of the path, drifting instead toward the darker side of the woods.
A silhouette waited there.
Tall. Still. Eyes burning a deep, searing red.
Beside it stood another figure—smaller, their own eyes a soft, unnatural blue that shimmered faintly in the dark.
The taller one exhaled, the sound more like smoke than breath.
"I should have known better than to entrust you with this charge," he said, the disdain in his voice as cold as the night itself. He cast a sharp look at the smaller shadow. "A deplorable lapse in judgment."
The smaller figure said nothing.
The taller one straightened. "You will return to the castle. I shall address this matter personally."
Before either beast could move, the figure's form warped.
WHRRM—SHRRK—!
Dark wings erupted from his back, unfurling with violent force. The shockwave rippled across the ground, snapping branches and sending loose leaves swirling upward.
His body swelled—bones shifting, limbs elongating, features sharpening into something far less human.
Then—
FWOOM—!
He launched skyward.
The impact shook the treetops, and he vanished into the storm clouds above—little more than a swift blot of shadow swallowed by rain and night.
Minutes burned away, yet Edora's speed had not faltered once.
The stallion tore through the thinning treeline, hooves beating a steady rhythm across soil that grew less wild with every stride.
The forest soon tapered off into uneven fields—patches of earth worked by hands that lacked both numbers and proper tools.
Fencing lay crooked along the path, some pieces mended with rope, others left to sag where storms had snapped them.
Worn scarecrows slumped in the fields, straw shoulders bowed under damp clothes that had once been bright but now hung in muted greys and browns.
The crops themselves grew in scattered rows—potatoes, turnips, and cabbages—stunted by poor soil and poorer upkeep.
A few battered sheds dotted the land, their roofs patched with whatever wood had been spared.
The rider kept glancing over her shoulder, her gaze sharp even as she guided Edora into the open stretch. The rain softened here, though the air kept its chill and carried the faint smell of wet hay.
Ahead, the village rose from the dim horizon.
If one could call it rising.
The tallest structure was a church, its spire crooked yet defiant. Gothic in its attempt, though time had worn its edges blunt.
Stone formed the base, dark with age, while the wooden upper half bore the marks of countless winters—warped boards, uneven shingles, and narrow windows that glowed faintly with candlelight.
The iron cross atop the spire leaned slightly, as though bowing to the wind.
Below it clustered a handful of small houses, each built in the modest tradition of rural folk—simple timber frames, stone chimneys exhaling pale threads of smoke, and roofs thick with moss.
The village gate stood open, barely worthy of the name—just two wooden posts and a sagging arch overhead.
A lone guard sat slumped at the entrance, his back pressed against the post as he hugged a spear to his chest. His helmet tipped over his eyes, and his quiet snoring drifted weakly into the rain.
The rider exhaled, her breath fogging faintly in the cold. She brushed her hand along Edora's mane, the motion soft, almost grateful.
"We are nearly arrived, Edora. Once past this settlement, freedom awaits… and so shall—"
Lightning cracked through the sky.
KRSHH—!
The rider's words died. Her brows drew together at once. One ear twitched beneath her loose black hair as a sharp instinct pricked her focus. She raised her gaze to the clouds.
Something circled above.
A shape blotted out part of the red moon, wings unfurling wide enough to bend the air around them.
Its silhouette resembled a man only in the cruelest sense—long limbs, elongated torso, a neck that angled downward like a predator scenting blood.
The wings beat once, sending sheets of rain scattering around its dark frame. Its attention was fixed solely upon her.
The rider's eyes widened.
For the first time, composure fled her entirely. Her breath caught, her pupils trembled, and her hands shook against the horse.
Edora kept running—but sensed her change.
The stallion faltered for half a stride, lifting its head to look upward. A deep, uneasy puff escaped its nostrils, not of fear, but concern—for her.
Then, as though deciding for the both of them, the horse launched forward again.
WHUFF—!
Mud sprayed behind them as Edora surged into a deeper gallop.