Chapter 4: Hunted

SIENNA

The wind lashes at us with the force of a whip—cold and ruthless—as the horse gallops furiously through the forest. The fog is dense, wrapping around us like a spectral veil, an accomplice to our escape, as if the very forest knew what we were doing and was shielding us from what lurks behind. The moon, hidden behind heavy clouds, barely casts its light, projecting menacing shadows among the trees that twist like claws ready to snatch us.

Astrid clings to my waist, her fingers digging into my skin with the strength of her fear. Her breathing is erratic, each gasp a reminder that time is running out. I don’t tell her everything will be fine because that would be a lie—and I have never lied to her.

The presence is still there. It’s not paranoia, not imagination. Something is chasing us, something faster than we are. I can’t see it, but I feel it in the pressure of the air, in the way the mist seems to distort around us. My instinct screams that we are on the edge of an abyss, that a single mistake will mean death.

— Astrid —my voice is a tense whisper against the thunderous gallop—. Jump to the tree and hide.

She immediately shakes her head, her grip becoming unbearably tight.

— I won’t leave you alone.

— Do it, As. I’ll distract it.

I know she hates this. I know her mind is already searching for an alternative, a way for both of us to make it out together. But there’s no time. And she knows it.

Her chest rises with a shaky sigh.

— I love you, Sisi —she whispers against my back, and in her voice, I hear everything: the promise to reunite, the desperation of goodbye, the determination to survive.

— I love you more, As.

With a final squeeze around my waist, she pushes herself upward, disappearing into the branches with the agility of a wild cat, her silhouette swallowed by the mist. I don’t look back. I can’t afford to.

I tighten the reins and urge the horse to go faster. My heartbeat merges with the sounds of the chase. Something moves behind me—fast, with the precision of a seasoned hunter. It’s letting me run because it wants me to, because it’s enjoying the hunt.

The path suddenly opens. A cliff. A sheer rock wall plunging into nothingness. I yank the reins hard and leap off before the horse comes to a full stop. Rolling onto the ground, I slip into the bushes and hold my breath. With quick, practiced hands, I ready my bow, sliding an arrow onto the string without taking my eyes off the trail.

The horse continues a few meters ahead before I shoo it away, leaving me at the mercy of the shadow.

Silence falls.

I feel its presence before I see it. The darkness writhes and condenses, shaping an immense figure between the trees. Its steps are slow, deliberate. There’s no rush in its hunt.

My breath catches when I see it emerge from the mist.

It is a man, and yet it isn’t. He is taller, deadlier. His black hair seems to absorb the moonlight itself, and his eyes… his eyes are burning embers, piercing the night with an unnatural glow. Something in his aura chills my blood and quickens my pulse. My heart pounds wildly in my chest—a frantic drumbeat I know he can hear.

There is no doubt. No room for denial.

This being is not an ordinary man.

He comes from the Four Courts.

And he is hunting me.

His voice cuts through the night like distant thunder, a murmur that seeps into my bones.

— Come out.

He commands it with the certainty that I will obey.

— I can hear you. Your heart races like a runaway horse.

I step out from the bushes, bow raised, arrow drawn tight against the string, aimed directly at his chest. My hands tremble, but my gaze is steady. I cannot show fear.

The giant takes a step toward me, his crimson eyes burning in the dim light.

— Lower that.

His voice is deep, vibrating, laden with something that echoes inside my head.

— Unless you want to hurt yourself.

My fingers tighten around the arrow, but my body refuses to move. Something in his words slithers into my mind like silent poison. A shiver runs down my spine as, without realizing it, my hands start to relax on the string. I’m surrendering. Giving in without a fight.

No. A voice roars inside my head, fierce and desperate. Damn it, magic is real.

Something inside me writhes—a part of my mind warning that this isn’t normal, that he’s altering my will. He’s manipulating me. He’s dangerous.

But another voice, soft and venomous, whispers:

— Don’t fight it. Look at him. Listen to him.

My thoughts fracture into a storm. My heart pounds frantically, as if trying to break free from my chest. I’m trapped between two forces pulling me in opposite directions. My stubbornness, however, wins.

The giant takes another step, leaning slightly toward me. I can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the dark, pulsing energy surrounding him like a living shadow.

— Thirty nights.

His voice is rough, laced with disdain.

— Thirty nights wasted coming to this miserable corner where human filth crawls like rats in the muck. I don’t know why the hell your scent haunts me, why it compels me to find you. And that enrages me.

He pauses, inhaling sharply, as if trying to rip a secret from my skin.

— But here you are. And my instincts tell me to hunt you.

He leans closer. His breath is a mix of something wild, primal—damp earth and fire burning in the darkness. His nose brushes against my neck, and my muscles go rigid, paralyzed in a fear that borders on hypnotic.

But then something inside me awakens. My reason, my survival instinct, shakes violently and shatters the trance in a brutal heartbeat.

With a quick, desperate motion, I slide my hand into my coat sleeve and pull out the hidden knife. Before he can react, I plunge it into his neck with all my strength, feeling the blade sink into the scorching flesh.