The woods had a way of making loneliness feel like a living thing.

It crept between the trees. It settled in the hollows of the wind. It curled into the cracks of silence and waited—patient, hungry, old.

Habeel sat on a fallen trunk at the edge of that silence, staring into a stream that didn’t reflect his face the way it should have.

The moon hung above him like a watchful eye.

He looked young—too young for the heaviness in his gaze. A beautiful boy cursed with a body that refused to age the way other bodies did. People looked at him and saw a secret: immortality, power, an answer they could steal.

His own family had looked at him the same way.

He pressed his fingers into the scar under his left eye as if he could rub the memory away. It didn’t work.

Nothing ever really left him.

Not the scent of iron in palace halls.

Not the echo of shackles being tested, “just to be sure.”

Not the betrayal that came dressed as duty and called itself love.

He exhaled slowly—controlled, practiced—like if he breathed wrong, the past would wake up.

In his palm lay a small scrap of cloth. Ivory-colored, stitched with a delicate pattern he had seen only once in his life… and never forgotten.

A little girl had wrapped that cloth around his wounded paw.

A little girl who had looked at a “stray cat” bleeding in the snow and chosen mercy over fear.

Aurelia.

Her name wasn’t supposed to matter to him. He had told himself that a thousand times. He wasn’t meant to have attachments. Attachments were handles people used to drag you into cages.

And yet…

He had watched her grow from a distance. From rooftops, from branches, from shadows pressed against her window at night when her breath softened and her lashes rested like she belonged to a gentle world.

He had never touched her.

Never spoken to her.

Never let himself want.

Until tonight.

Because tonight, the wind carried something else.

Not loneliness.

A warning.

Habeel’s head lifted. His pupils narrowed. The forest shifted. Somewhere beyond the trees—a boot scuffed soil. Another followed. A low laugh. Men.

Hunters.

Not simple bandits. These moved wrong—too quiet, too intentional—like they’d been trained to take what they wanted and leave no story behind.

Habeel rose without sound.

The stream beside him rippled, disturbed by no wind, as if the world itself sensed his decision.

Far away, a village lantern flickered.

Aurelia’s home.

And the ancient ache in his chest—longing, fear, hope—tightened like a fist.

He moved.

⸻

Aurelia always knew when the woods were watching.

It was a strange thing to admit, even to herself. She’d never told anyone, not even Eren. Her brother would only tease her and then hover like a guard dog for days.

But Aurelia felt it.

Sometimes the forest felt soft—like a sanctuary that hugged the village from the outside. Sometimes it felt like a mouth.

Tonight, it felt like a mouth.

She stood at her window, fingers curled around the wooden frame, staring into the dark.

The moonlight painted the ground silver, and the trees beyond looked like tall, quiet strangers.

Her wrist itched beneath her sleeve.

A familiar itch.

The kind that always appeared before her life changed in some small way.

Aurelia rubbed it absentmindedly, trying to ignore the uneasy flutter in her stomach.

“Lia!”

Her grandmother’s voice echoed faintly from downstairs. “Come help me with the herbs before they spoil.”

“I’m coming!” Aurelia called back, pulling herself away from the window.

She was halfway down the steps when she heard it.

A low, distant scream.

Not from inside the house.

From outside.

Aurelia froze.

Her heart stuttered once—then started pounding like it wanted to escape her ribs.

Another sound followed: rough voices.

Men.

Her grandmother’s footsteps stopped below. “Aurelia,” she said, her voice sharpened like a blade. “Lock the door. Now.”

Aurelia’s blood ran cold. She moved automatically, rushing to the front door and sliding the lock into place—then another, and another. Her hands shook.

Outside, the voices grew louder.

“You sure it’s this one?”

“The old hag lives here. The girl too.”

“A healer bloodline doesn’t just disappear.”

Aurelia’s breath caught.

Healer bloodline?

Her grandmother grabbed her arm, nails digging into skin. “Don’t look out the window.”

Aurelia swallowed. “Nana… what are they talking about?”

Her grandmother didn’t answer. Her eyes weren’t on Aurelia. They were on the wall—on the shadows crawling there as if something unseen pressed close.

Then the glass shattered.

A rock crashed through the kitchen window, scattering shards across the floor.

Eren burst into the room from the back hall, sword already in hand. He looked half-awake, shirt untucked, hair wild—then he saw Aurelia’s face and instantly became something else.

A protector.

“Stay behind me,” he ordered, voice tight.

Aurelia’s hands lifted on instinct, palms open like she could stop the world.

More glass broke.

A boot hit the back door once—twice—hard enough to rattle the frame.

“Open up!” a man shouted, laughter in his voice. “We just want to talk!”

Eren’s jaw clenched. “Sure. With my blade.”

Her grandmother whispered something under her breath in a language Aurelia didn’t recognize.

The air in the room changed—thicker, heavier—like the world held its breath.

Then the back door splintered.

Two men forced their way inside. Dark leather. Covered faces. Weapons that glinted with oil and arrogance.

The first one looked at Aurelia and smiled.

Not kindly.

Like he’d found treasure.

“There she is,” he said.

Aurelia stepped backward so fast her heel caught on a chair leg. She stumbled.

Eren lunged forward.

Steel clashed.

The second man moved around Eren with unsettling speed, reaching for Aurelia.

Aurelia’s scream caught in her throat.

She lifted her hands again—

And something inside her answered.

Not words.

Power.

Heat rushed up her arms, gathering in her palms like light trying to be born.

But before it could explode—

A shadow blurred past the broken doorway.

A growl shook the room.

Deep. Animal. Wrong in a way that made the hunters hesitate for the first time.

A massive wolf launched into the house.

Moonlight poured over its fur like silver fire. Its eyes—bright, intelligent, ancient—locked onto the man reaching for Aurelia.

The wolf hit him like a storm.

The man crashed into the wall. His weapon clattered across the floor.

The other hunter swung his blade instinctively.

The wolf twisted with impossible grace, teeth flashing, knocking the blade aside.

Eren stared, stunned for half a heartbeat—then snapped back into motion.

He drove his sword forward, forcing the hunter back.

Aurelia couldn’t move.

Her mind refused to accept what her eyes were seeing.

A wolf in her kitchen.

A wolf defending her.

The wolf turned—briefly—toward Aurelia.

And in that instant, Aurelia felt it.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Like a memory pressing through time to touch her skin.

The wolf’s gaze held hers… then flicked to her wrist.

Aurelia followed the look—confused—and her sleeve slid back.

On her wrist, beneath the lantern light, a faint symbol glimmered.

A mark.

It hadn’t been there yesterday.

Her grandmother sucked in a breath like she’d been stabbed.

“No…” she whispered.

Aurelia’s mouth went dry. “Nana… what is that?”

The wolf stepped closer—slow, careful, not threatening.

Aurelia’s heart hammered.

And then, the wolf’s body shimmered.

The air rippled like heat over stone.

Bones shifted—not breaking, but changing.

Fur dissolved like smoke.

In seconds, a young man stood where the wolf had been—tall, lean, beautiful in a way that made Aurelia’s brain stutter.

Dark hair, slightly wavy, falling past his shoulders. A faint scar beneath his left eye. Eyes like emerald glass lit from within.

Not human.

Not monster.

Something in-between.

He looked at Aurelia as if she was the only thing in the room.

“The one you saved,” he said, voice low and steady, “when you were just a little girl.”

Aurelia’s breath left her body in a rush.

That… wasn’t possible.

The cat.

The injured white cat with blue eyes she’d hidden from the village children, the one she’d bandaged with her favorite cloth. The one she’d whispered stories to at night.

The one she still sometimes saw in the woods.

Her knees nearly buckled.

“You…” she whispered. “You’re—”

“Later,” he cut in softly, not unkind. His gaze flicked to Eren, to the fallen men, to the broken doors. “More are coming.”

As if his words summoned it, a whistle sounded outside—sharp, coded.

Retreat. Regroup. Report.

The hunters backed away, rattled now, eyes full of new fear.

“This isn’t over!” one shouted, stumbling out into the night.

The young man turned back to Aurelia.

His expression softened—just slightly.

Like he’d forgotten how to look gentle, but tried anyway.

Aurelia swallowed hard. “Who are you?”

He stepped closer, just close enough that Aurelia could feel the warmth of him, the danger of him, the impossible pull of him.

Then—he vanished.

Not running.

Not leaving through the door.

He dissolved into shadow like the dark itself swallowed him whole.

Aurelia lurched forward. “Wait—!”

Nothing.

Only the night.

Only the broken glass.

Only her pounding heart.

And the mark on her wrist… glowing faintly, as if it had recognized him too.

Eren grabbed her shoulders. “Aurelia—are you hurt?”

Aurelia barely heard him.

Because her mind replayed one thing over and over:

The wolf saved her.

The wolf became a boy.

And that boy knew her.

Above them, the window creaked.

Aurelia turned her head slowly toward it.

There—just for a heartbeat—she saw a pale shape on the roofline.

A white cat with blue eyes.

Watching.

Aurelia’s whisper shook.

“…Was it you?”

The cat blinked once.

Then disappeared into the woods.

—

Aurelia looked down at the strange symbol on her wrist as it pulsed brighter—

and for the first time, she understood with terrifying clarity:

the thing haunting her family had finally found her.

⸻

Aurelia did not sleep that night.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw emerald eyes glowing in the dark. She felt fur brushing past her ankles. Heard the low, protective growl that had shaken her bones.

And worse—

She felt the mark.

It burned now.

Not painfully—but insistently. Like something inside her had woken up and was stretching for the first time.

The house smelled of smoke, herbs, and broken glass. Eren had boarded up the windows before dawn, muttering curses under his breath. Her grandmother sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped tightly around a cup of untouched tea.

She looked… smaller than usual.

Older.

Aurelia hovered in the doorway, heart pounding.

“Nana,” she said quietly.

Her grandmother didn’t look up. “Sit.”

That single word carried weight. Finality.

Aurelia obeyed.

Eren lingered by the door, arms crossed, jaw tense. “You’re going to explain. All of it. Now.”

Her grandmother closed her eyes.

“For generations,” she began, voice low, “we prayed this day would never come.”

Aurelia swallowed. “The mark… what is it?”

Her grandmother’s gaze lifted slowly—and landed on Aurelia’s wrist.

Her face crumpled.

“It is a calling,” she whispered. “And a curse.”

The word settled into Aurelia’s chest like a stone.

Eren scoffed. “That’s not an answer.”

“It is the only one that matters,” Nana snapped, sudden steel in her voice. “Our bloodline does not create power. It attracts it.”

Aurelia’s fingers curled. “Attracts… what?”

“Beings,” her grandmother said. “Ancient ones. Broken ones. Those hunted for what they are.”

Aurelia’s throat went dry.

The boy.

The wolf.

Him.

“When you healed the cat,” Nana continued, “you sealed something that should never have been sealed again.”

Eren stiffened. “What cat?”

Aurelia whispered, “The one I saved in the woods. Years ago.”

Her grandmother nodded. “He was never a cat.”

The room felt suddenly too small.

Aurelia’s breath came shallow. “Who is he?”

Her grandmother hesitated.

“Someone powerful enough to ruin kingdoms,” she said finally. “And gentle enough to choose not to.”

Eren cursed under his breath.

Aurelia’s heart twisted painfully at the words.

Gentle.

That was exactly what she had felt.

A knock echoed through the house.

Sharp. Urgent.

Eren drew his sword immediately. “Who is it?”

A familiar voice followed, breathless and worried.

“Eren! Aurelia! Are you alive in there?!”

Aurelia surged to her feet. “Phil!”

Eren opened the door just as a young man rushed inside—tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, wearing travel-worn leather and concern etched deeply into his face.

Phil.

Her fiancé.

He took one look at the broken windows, the boarded door, the tension—and his face darkened.

“I heard shouting,” he said. “And rumors. People are talking.”

His eyes found Aurelia instantly, scanning her for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’m okay.”

Relief flooded his features. He pulled her into a hug before she could react.

Aurelia stiffened—then slowly relaxed.

This was familiar. Safe.

Phil had always been safe.

“I was going mad,” he murmured into her hair. “I thought—”

“I’m here,” she said softly.

But even as she spoke, her eyes drifted—unconsciously—to the window.

To the shadows beyond it.

Phil pulled back, frowning. “What happened?”

Eren answered for her. “Hunters. Looking for her.”

Phil’s jaw tightened. “For Aurelia? Why?”

Silence.

Her grandmother stood. “Because the world remembers our sins.”

Phil looked between them. “You’re not making sense.”

Aurelia hesitated—then pushed her sleeve up.

Phil froze.

The mark glowed faintly, intricate and beautiful and terrifying.

“What is that?” he whispered.

Aurelia met his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Phil reached out instinctively—then stopped himself.

Fear flickered across his face.

Not of her.

Of what she might become.

“I’ll protect you,” he said immediately, voice firm. “Whatever this is, I won’t let anyone touch you.”

Her chest warmed at his words.

But her heart—

Her heart ached in a way she didn’t understand.

Because somewhere in the woods…

Someone already had.

That night, Aurelia stood at her window again.

The moon was full.

The forest quiet.

“Why me?” she whispered.

The shadows shifted.

A voice—not loud, not close—answered anyway.

“Because you chose mercy.”

Aurelia’s breath hitched.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered. “They’re hunting you.”

“I know.”

Her fingers curled against the window frame. “Then why stay?”

Silence stretched.

Then—

“Because leaving you unguarded would be a lie.”

Her heart stumbled.

A shape detached from the darkness—not fully visible, not fully gone.

“I won’t touch your world,” the voice said softly. “Unless you ask.”

Aurelia swallowed hard.

“And if I don’t?”

A pause.

“Then I will watch,” he said. “From the shadows.”

The mark on her wrist pulsed.

And Aurelia realized, with a mix of fear and longing—

her life had already crossed a line it could never uncross.

—

Aurelia closed her eyes—

—and did not see Phil’s face.

She saw emerald eyes in the dark.

By morning, the village had already started whispering.

Aurelia felt it the moment she stepped outside—the way neighbors glanced too quickly then looked away, the way mothers pulled children closer, the way men pretended to be busy while watching her from under their brows.

They had seen the broken window.

They had heard the shouting.

And fear traveled faster than truth.

Hunters and villagers eyes weren’t the only one watching them they noticed from before they left the house someone else was also after them.

Sorrel didn’t belong in villages.

Villages had rules. Villages had gossip. Villages had men who stared too long and women who whispered too loud, and Sorrel hated both equally.

She stood on a roofbeam near the edge of Aurelia’s village just as dawn bled into the sky, watching the aftermath of the night’s attack like a hawk watching a battlefield.

Broken glass. Boarded windows. A frightened crowd gathering in tight knots.

And in the middle of it—

A girl in a plain cloak, pale from sleeplessness, walking like she was trying not to show the world she was shaking.

Aurelia.

Sorrel had been following rumors for weeks:

A healer bloodline.

A forbidden mark.

A bounty that smelled like noble coin.

She didn’t believe most rumors.

But she believed money.

And she believed danger.

That was why she’d come.

And then she saw the little boy—Eli—trailing behind the girl like a shadow.

Something in Sorrel’s chest did an annoying thing.

It tightened.

She hated that.

Compassion was a weakness. It made you careless. It got you killed.

So she told herself she didn’t care.

And then she saw the grandmother’s face.

Old. Sharp-eyed. Terrified.

Sorrel knew that face.

It was the face of someone who’d seen hunters before.

That was when a man’s voice spoke from behind her—quiet as a blade sliding free.

“Watching people in the morning is a habit of yours?”

Sorrel didn’t flinch. She didn’t turn.

“Depends,” she said. “Are you about to arrest me or flirt with me?”

A soft huff. Not quite a laugh.

Kael stepped into view with the calmness of a man who had survived too many nights to panic during sunrise.

He wasn’t dressed like a village boy. His gear was travel-worn, sturdy, expensive in a subtle way. A bow rested across his back. A small silver emblem was pinned inside his cloak—half-hidden, like he didn’t want it seen.

Sorrel narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

Kael’s gaze followed hers toward Aurelia’s group. “Someone who doesn’t like seeing bounty hunters collect children.”

Sorrel scoffed. “So you’re a hero.”

Kael’s expression didn’t change. “No.”

“Good,” Sorrel said. “Heroes are usually idiots.”

Kael looked at her properly then, eyes steady. “And what are you?”

Sorrel smirked. “An idiot with good timing.”

Kael’s eyes flicked to the village road.

Men in dark leather were already arriving—pretending to be travelers. Watching too carefully. Measuring.

Hunters.

Kael’s voice dropped. “They’re moving today.”

Sorrel’s grin faded. “Yeah.”

Kael shifted his weight. “If we wait, we’ll lose them.”

Sorrel eyed him. “Why do you care?”

Kael paused—just slightly.

Then he said, “Because I used to belong to an order that tracked cursed marks. We were trained to find them… and deliver them.”

Sorrel blinked. “You were one of them?”

Kael’s jaw tightened. “I left.”

“Why?”

His gaze stayed on Aurelia. “Because the last marked girl I delivered was twelve.”

Sorrel’s chest went tight again, that annoying thing.

She looked away. “So what now?”

Kael’s eyes sharpened. “Now I don’t deliver them. I break the chain.”

Sorrel stared at him for a second, then snorted. “That’s disgustingly noble.”

Kael’s mouth twitched. “And you?”

Sorrel shrugged. “I hate powerful men who think they own people.”

Kael nodded once, accepting that as a valid reason.

Sorrel glanced at Aurelia’s group starting to leave the village.

“How do we track them?” she asked.

Kael reached into his pouch and pulled out a pinch of gray powder. “Ash-sand. Put it on their footprints. It clings to the trail for a day, even through streams.”

Sorrel whistled softly. “Fancy.”

Kael’s tone was dry. “It’s how my old order hunted.”

Sorrel’s grin returned—sharp, dangerous. “Then let’s hunt the hunters.”

They followed.

Quietly.

Far enough not to be seen.

Close enough not to lose them.

And when the first whistle of pursuit sounded in the woods, Sorrel didn’t hesitate.

She and Kael moved to flank the trail—like wolves circling wolves.

Eren walked ahead with a sword strapped to his back like he didn’t care who noticed. His eyes didn’t stop moving. He looked like a man who’d decided if the world wanted his sister, it would have to walk through him first. They have decided to leave this village behind.

Phil walked beside Aurelia, carrying a sack of supplies—bread, dried fruit, waterskins, rope, a small medical kit he’d begged from the village healer at dawn.

He hadn’t slept. She could tell by the tightness around his eyes.

Behind them, wrapped in a cloak that was far too big, a little boy followed.

Eli.

He was seven, small and quiet, with soot-dark hair and eyes that seemed too old for his face. Aurelia had known him only for a month—ever since his mother died during the early frost, and his father vanished soon after, leaving the boy alone.

Aurelia’s grandmother had taken him in temporarily, the way she took in injured birds and stray kittens.

But “temporary” didn’t exist in their home. Not really.

Eli clung to the hem of Aurelia’s cloak like it was the only safe thing left in his world.

Aurelia kept glancing back at him. “Are you warm enough?”

Eli nodded quickly, but his chin trembled. “Are we… leaving forever?”

Her chest tightened. “No. Just until it’s safe.”

Eren muttered without turning around, “Which might be never.”

“Eren,” Aurelia warned.

He didn’t apologize. But he slowed his pace so Eli could keep up.

Phil noticed Aurelia watching Eli and lowered his voice. “He insisted on coming.”

Aurelia frowned. “Why?”

Phil’s gaze softened. “Because he heard the men last night. He thinks… if he stays in the village, they’ll come back.”

Aurelia’s stomach turned. “And Nana agreed?”

“She said,” Phil sighed, “‘A child left behind becomes a bargaining chip.’”

Aurelia’s breath caught.

That was the clearest reason yet for leaving: if they stayed, the village wouldn’t just betray her—someone would sell Eli to save their own children.

They reached the edge of the village where the dirt road narrowed into forest trail. The trees looked darker than usual, dense with shadow even in daylight.

Aurelia paused at the boundary, staring at the woods like it was a mouth.

Her grandmother stepped beside her. In the daylight, Nana looked tired, but her spine stayed straight like it always had—like she refused to bend even if the world demanded it.

“We leave because the village is no longer ours,” Nana said quietly. “And because the men who came last night were not common thieves.”

What about these two they are following us clearly Eren said to grandmother.

Let them I don’t sense any danger from them. We will see what happens later. We need worry about the ones who attacked us last night. Grandmother replied.

Phil’s jaw tightened. “Then who are they?”

Nana’s eyes flicked to Aurelia’s covered wrist. “People who hunt what they cannot understand.”

Eren spat on the ground. “And people who get paid for handing over magic users.”

Phil’s face tightened with disbelief. “Magic users? You’re saying—”

Nana raised a hand. “Phil. You’ve loved Aurelia since you were children. If you take one more step with us, your life becomes hunted too.”

Phil didn’t hesitate.

“I already decided,” he said, voice firm. “Last night, when I saw her bleeding glass in her own kitchen. When I heard men speak about her like she was property.”

He turned to Aurelia, gentler now.

“I’m not leaving you.”

Aurelia’s heart twisted in two directions—gratitude and guilt.

Because she cared for Phil. She did.

But her mind kept replaying emerald eyes in the dark… and the way her pulse answered them.

Her grandmother looked at Phil for a long moment. Then she nodded once.

“Then you walk with us. But understand this: love will not protect you. Only choices will.”

Eren snorted. “Finally. Someone said it.”

Phil shot him a look. “You enjoy being dramatic.”

Eren smirked. “I learned from you.”

Aurelia almost laughed—almost.

But her wrist itched again beneath her sleeve, and she knew the forest was listening.

⸻

They walked for hours along paths Eren chose—paths that avoided the main road.

As the sun climbed, the woods thickened. The air smelled of damp earth and pine.

Eli’s steps slowed.

Aurelia kept glancing at him. “You can ride on my back if you get tired.”

Eli’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Eren cut in, “Don’t encourage him. He’ll start asking for piggyback rides daily.”

Phil leaned closer to Aurelia with a grin. “I’ll do it.”

Aurelia blinked. “You?”

Phil stood taller, puffing his chest. “I’m heroic.”

Eren barked a laugh. “You’ll last five minutes.”

Phil glared. “I’ll last ten.”

Aurelia couldn’t help it—she laughed, a soft sound that made even her own chest feel lighter.

For one brief moment, they felt like a normal group.

A sister. A brother. A fiancé. A grandmother. A child.

Then Nana stopped walking.

She stared at something on the ground.

Aurelia’s stomach sank. “What is it?”

Nana crouched and brushed aside leaves.

Footprints.

Not theirs.

Fresh.

Phil’s expression changed instantly. “We’re being followed?”

Eren’s hand went to his sword. “We never stopped being followed.”

Two shadows appeared From the woods, who are you, asked Eren. You are following us from the village.

Don’t be scared. We are here to help and distract those hunters. Said Sorrel.

He is Kael and I am Sorrel. You need to trust us. If we wanted to harm you we had already done it. She tried to soften her voice.

Before Eren could say anything grandmother nodded like she trusted what they said. We can use their help. She said firmly.

But,Eren hesitated.

Aurelia’s wrist burned suddenly.

The mark pulsed beneath her sleeve like a warning bell.

Then Eli’s voice trembled. “Aurelia…”

She turned.

Eli pointed with a shaking finger toward the treeline.

There—half-hidden by root and shadow—sat a white cat with blue eyes.

Still.

Watching.

Aurelia’s breath caught.

Phil blinked, confused. “It’s just a cat.”

Aurelia’s whisper came out broken. “No…”

The cat blinked once, slow.

Then stood and walked into the woods like it had all the time in the world.

Aurelia didn’t think.

She followed.

“Aurelia!” Eren barked.

Phil grabbed her wrist instinctively, but Aurelia yanked free, adrenaline surging. “I’ll be right back—!”

Eren cursed and went after her. Phil followed too, panic rising.

Aurelia pushed through branches until the forest opened into a small hidden hollow.

The cat sat in the center.

Waiting.

Aurelia stepped forward, breathless. “Why are you following me?”

The air shifted.

Shadow folded over itself.

And the boy appeared—like he was carved from moonlight and dark.

Habeel.

Phil stumbled into the clearing behind her and froze.

Eren arrived a second later, blade drawn.

Phil stepped in front of Aurelia immediately. “Who are you?”

Habeel didn’t answer him.

He looked at Aurelia instead—like she was the only thing in the world.

“You shouldn’t have followed,” Habeel said quietly.

Aurelia swallowed. “Then why lead me?”

Habeel’s gaze softened, just a fraction.

“Because they’re close,” he said. “And you deserve warning.”

Eren’s voice was sharp. “Warning about what?”

Habeel’s eyes lifted toward the trees. “Hunters.”

A distant whistle cut through the woods.

Then another.

Closer.

Phil’s face drained. “How many?”

Habeel listened. “Enough.”

Aurelia’s mark flared beneath her sleeve like it had a heartbeat of its own.

Habeel’s jaw tightened when he saw the glow. “They can sense you now.”

Aurelia’s voice shook. “Then what do we do?”

Habeel stepped closer—close enough that Aurelia felt the heat of him, the pull of him.

“You run,” he said softly.

Phil snapped, “And you?”

Habeel’s eyes cut to Phil—calm, cold. “I buy you time.”

Phil bristled. “We don’t need you to—”

Habeel leaned in slightly, voice deadly quiet. “You do.”

Eren grabbed Aurelia’s arm. “Move.”

They ran.

Branches whipped. Eli sobbed somewhere behind them as Eren half-carried him.

Behind them—

a roar.

a scream.

steel clashing.

Then silence.

Aurelia looked back.

The woods swallowed everything.

Only shadow remained.

And on her wrist—the mark pulsed like a promise she didn’t understand.

—

A whisper slid through the trees—soft, unseen, unmistakably close:

“You can’t escape what you awakened.”

⸻