Page 6

A ball of brilliant, white-hot flame blossoms at the end of the rod, pushing back the darkness, casting my shelter in a stark, flickering light. The heat is intense, blistering.

The creature at the breach recoils with a screech of pain and surprise, its fur singed. It stumbles back, shaking its head, the amber eyes wide with confusion and fear.

It worked. My God, it actually worked.

I scramble forward, shoving the burning torch through the buckled opening. The flame roars, a miniature sun in the alien night. I wave it back and forth, creating a wall of fire and noise.

“Get back!” I scream, my voice raw. “Get the hell away from me!”

The other creatures, who had been pressing against the walls, now retreat, their chuffing calls turning to yelps of alarm. They've never seen fire like this. It's not part of their world. It's my magic. My science.

I stand in the breach, a lone, terrified human holding back the night with a stick. My arm aches from the weight of the torch. The heat is scorching my face. But I hold my ground. I meet the alpha's six-eyed stare, refusing to look away.Don't show fear. Establish dominance. You are not prey. You are a threat.

The alpha circles, staying just beyond the reach of the flames. It growls, a low, frustrated sound. The other pack members mirror its movements, their bodies tense, their amber eyes fixed on the impossible, dancing light. They are confused. Their coordinated strategy is broken, their confidence shattered by this new, terrifying element.

I take a step forward, thrusting the torch out again. The alpha flinches back.

I have them. I actually have them on the defensive.

A wave of heady, irrational confidence washes over me. My scientific training and my primal survival instincts have merged into something new, something fierce. I am not just Dr. Kendra Miles anymore. I am a creature of this world, too, a creature fighting for its territory.

“Log entry, supplemental,” I pant, my voice tight, my words for myself alone. “Defensive strategy effective. Subject Xylo-form Lupus-Panthera displays significant neophobia. Aversive reaction to controlled combustion is confirmed. This gives me a tactical advantage.”

The alpha lets out another frustrated bark and takes a hesitant step forward. The others follow its lead, fanning out, testing my defenses again. They are learning. Adapting. The fear is receding, replaced by a calculating intelligence.

My torch sputters.

The volatile compound is burning out faster than I anticipated. The brilliant white flame shrinks to a flickering, sickly orange.

Oh no. Not now. Please, not now.

The alpha sees it. Its head lifts, the amber eyes narrowing. It lets out a low, guttural sound, not of fear, but of realization. My magic is failing.

It crouches low, muscles coiling. The other three spread out, their movements once again a coordinated, deadly dance. They're preparing for the final rush. My makeshift wall will not hold. The blaster is a pathetic last resort.

My heart sinks. The brief surge of confidence evaporates, leaving only the cold, hard certainty of my own impending death. I am out of time. Out of tricks.

The alpha lunges.

And then the world shakes.

It's not a sound. It's a physical force, a pressure wave that slams into my chest and makes the very air vibrate. A roar. A roar so deep, so powerful, it feels like the planet itself is screaming. It's a sound of absolute, primal authority. A sound of a god clearing its throat.

I stumble back, dropping the sputtering torch. The sound rips through me, bypassing my ears and sinking straight into mybones. It's a sound that unravels every instinct, every bit of training, and leaves only one, primal command:submit.

The effect on the predators is instantaneous and absolute.

The lunging alpha slams to a halt, its body skidding in the dirt. It flattens itself to the ground, whimpering, its six eyes wide with pure, unadulterated terror. The other pack members do the same, collapsing as if their legs have been cut out from under them. They press their bodies into the damp earth, their segmented jaws working silently, their confident aggression completely erased.

The roar echoes again, slightly less powerful this time, but still carrying that same, bone-shaking weight of command.

That's all it takes.

The predators scramble to their feet, not to attack, but to flee. They turn and bolt into the forest, crashing through the undergrowth in a blind panic, their terrified yelps fading into the distance.

Then, silence.

A silence more profound, more terrifying than the noise that preceded it. The clearing is empty. The threat is gone.