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Brotha moved past her position, alooming shadow cutting through the mist with the inevitability of a storm front.

His presence pushed the air before him, each forceful step shifting the undergrowth with the strength of something unstoppable.

Maya held her breath, her body locked in place against the bark, muscles rigid, praying the shimmer held.

His silver eyes flicked once to the side, scanning, but never settling on her.

Then, as if the moment hadn’t happened, he moved on, footsteps fading into the deeper shadows.

Maya waited. Counted four steady heartbeats. Then she moved again, even slower, even quieter.

A real chase had begun. And this time, it wasn’t about running.

It was about disappearing.

Minutes stretched into forever. Maya moved in increments, never rushing, threading between low-hanging branches and dense undergrowth, her movement silent as death, each step chosen with care.

Every time she risked glancing back, there was nothing—no movement, no voice.

Only silence and the slow pulse of the forest’s light.

But that silence wasn’t peace. It was warning.

Somewhere behind her, Brotha hunted.

His frustration bled into the air long before she heard him speak again. Alow growl, too distant to pinpoint: “Where are you, little human?”

The words no longer carried taunting amusement.

They were edged now, sharper, rougher. Maya crouched low beside a cluster of wide-leafed plants, camouflage rippling faintly across her skin as she forced her breath to quiet.

Astick snapped under a violent footfall somewhere to her left. She didn’t flinch.

Another minute. Another breath. Another careful step forward.

And then she caught sight ofhim.

Brotha stalked through the trees with his head lowered, moving slower now.

Less sure. His steps no longer cracked branches like before.

He was hunting carefully, methodically, eyes scanning every patch of shadow.

His mouth twisted into a snarl as he shoved aside a glowing vine that blocked hispath.

“Too quiet,” he muttered, voice carrying on the damp air. “Should never have released her.”

His fists clenched at his sides, the air crackling faintly with heat around him as though his fury was burning through the atmosphere itself. Maya stayed frozen, pressed flat against the wide-leafed plants, their mass barely thicker than her waist.

Another heavy footstep. Then another. Brotha spun suddenly, as if expecting her to appear from nowhere, his expression dark with rising irritation.

“Where are you?” he barked, voice slicing through the mist like a blade.

The sound carried in waves, bouncing off the trees, curling around Maya in every direction.

The ground shivered beneath her, not from footsteps, but from the press of his fury vibrating through the air.

“You will regret this when I catch you,” Brotha snarled again, and this time, his tone wasn’t just irritation.

It was cold promise, soaked in certainty.

The forest pressed in closer, branches twisting unnaturally. Their glowing edges flickered, snapping between colors in short, uneven bursts, like a broken signal. Each pulse sharpened the shadows around her, narrowing the spaces where she could move, turning every opening into a potentialtrap.

Leaves shifted into intentional patterns, rustling against each other with an unsettling whisper, as though they were speaking in a language too old for her to understand.

Every shadow became sharper, longer, stretching toward her, as though the entire forest wasn’t just watching.

It was hunting alongside Brotha, complicit in the chase, eager to offer herup.

And all the while, he was losing patience.

His movements grew sharper, less measured, jagged light rippling along his arms brighter with each frustrated turn.

Brotha began to lash out at the forest itself.

Ahand sliced through low branches, afist smashed against a tree trunk hard enough to send splinters flying.

His voice rose again, rough and unrestrained now, no longer the voice of a predator savoring the hunt but one on the edge of losing it.

“Enough!” he roared, voice cracking like a physical blow through the mist. “You think you can make me look weak? Think again! Iwill drag you out of these trees by your hair, little human, and I will show every soul gathered exactly what it means to challenge me.”

Maya forced herself to breathe slow and steady, holding perfectly still as he moved away again. Step by step, she let herself slip further into the trees, deeper into the shadows where even the glowing trunks dimmed to near black.

And then—he was there.

Only this time it wasn’t the challenger.

Riv’En .

Riv’En stepped from the darkness so smoothly it was as if he had always been there, edges of his form solidifying from mist and shadow until he was unmistakably real. One hand shot out, grabbing the challenger by the back of the neck, dragging him away from her in a single, brutal motion.

The impact sent the challenger sprawling. Not unconscious. But checked.

Maya couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

Riv’En didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His entire presence spoke louder than anythingelse.

He stepped between her and the challenger, body a wall of silentfury.

Maya pressed herself tighter against the tree, fingers clutching at thebark.

Riv’En’s voice came at last, low and rough: “Run, Maya.”

She did.