Mireth ran.
Branches tore at her cloak as she pushed through the forest, breath ragged, boots slipping on wet roots. Behind her, the night screamed.
The god-touched beasts howled—high, broken sounds scraping against her skull. She didn't need to look back to know they were close. The mark beneath her collarbone burned like molten iron, pulsing violently.
Danger. Death. Again.
"Shut up," she hissed, teeth clenched, fingers tightening around her dagger.
The forest suddenly opened into a narrow ravine, mist curling between jagged stones. Mireth skidded to a halt, heart slamming. The drop wasn't deep—but the rocks below could easily break bones.
The howls grew louder.
She had seconds.
Mireth jumped.
She hit the ground hard, pain exploding through her ankle as she rolled across damp stone. She barely had time to gasp before shadows spilled over the ravine's edge.
Three of them dropped down after her.
Up close, they were worse.
Bodies stretched, warped, veins glowing faintly with sickly light. Eyes—once human—burned gold.
God-touched.
Mireth backed away, dagger raised.
"Don't," she warned, though her voice shook. "I don't want to—"
The first beast lunged.
Instinct took over.
The mark screamed.
Silver fire tore through her veins.
Mireth thrust her hand forward, and the air shattered.
Light erupted—cold, blinding, violent. The beast flew backward, hitting the ravine wall with a wet crack. It didn't scream. It just… fell apart, dissolving into ash and blood.
The forest went silent.
Mireth staggered, dropping to one knee as pain flooded her body. Vision blurred. Ears rang. The silver glow faded, leaving hollow ache behind.
Two beasts remained.
They hesitated.
They knew her now.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I won't do it again."
The mark burned hotter.
A whisper curled through her mind—low, ancient, amused.
You always do.
The beasts attacked together.
Mireth screamed as the power surged again, ripping through her like a storm. Silver fire wrapped around her arms, crawling across her skin like living chains. She swung wildly, light tearing through flesh and bone.
The second beast fell.
The third reached her.
Claws ripped across her side.
Pain exploded. She collapsed, gasping, blood soaking her tunic. She barely registered the towering beast before the whisper returned—stronger now.
Enough games.
The silver fire detonated.
When she came back to herself, the ravine was empty.
No beasts.
No sound.
Only scorched stone and the stench of burned blood.
Mireth lay on her back, staring at the trees, chest heaving. Every muscle screamed. Her side burned where claws tore her skin, but the wound was already closing—slowly, unnaturally.
Healing.
She laughed weakly.
"That's new," she muttered.
The laughter died quickly.
Healing meant cost.
Her hands trembled as she pushed herself upright. Dizziness hit, the world tilting sideways. She steadied against the ravine wall, swallowing bile.
This was happening more often.
The power came faster. Louder. More eager.
And the voice—The voice was not fading anymore.
Mireth forced herself to stand and climbed out of the ravine. Dawn crept into the sky, pale and uncertain. She needed to keep moving. Staying in one place was a death sentence.
Villages were worse.
People noticed things.
She reached the road as hoofbeats echoed ahead.
Three riders crested the hill, cloaks dark, armor marked with silver sigils she recognized instantly.
Hunters.
Her stomach dropped.
They reined in their horses, eyes sweeping the forest, locking onto her.
The leader dismounted slowly, hand on the hilt of his blade. His gaze flicked to the blood on her clothes, the faint silver glow still fading from her skin.
"Well," he said calmly, "looks like we found you."
Mireth stepped back.
"I don't want trouble."
The man smiled thinly. "You never do."
Another hunter raised a crossbow, its bolt etched with runes designed for one thing only.
Marked flesh.
The mark pulsed painfully.
"By order of the Crown," the leader continued, "you are to be taken alive if possible. Dead if necessary."
Mireth glanced behind—forest. Ravine. Nowhere to run.
Her fingers tightened around her dagger.
"I didn't choose this," she whispered.
"No one ever does," the hunter replied, drawing his sword. "That's what makes you dangerous."
The voice in her head stirred, pleased.
Let me help.
Mireth shut her eyes for half a second.
Then she moved.
She hurled herself sideways as the crossbow fired. The bolt grazed her shoulder, searing pain ripping through her arm. She screamed, silver light flaring instinctively—but she stopped it mid-surge, forcing it down.
Not here.
Not again.
She sprinted into the forest as hunters shouted. Hooves thundered. Steel rang.
An arrow slammed into the ground inches from her foot.
"STOP!" someone yelled.
She didn't.
The forest swallowed her once more. The mark screamed.
You will die, the voice warned softly. And I will remain.
Mireth stumbled, catching herself on a tree trunk. Blood dripped onto the roots. She was slowing.
The hunters were close.
Too close.
She turned, back pressed to the tree, dagger raised in shaking hands.
"If this is how it ends," she whispered, tears mixing with sweat, "then fine."
The mark blazed.
Silver fire roared.
The forest exploded with light.