Page 81 of The Ascended
A massive trunk exploded to my left. Splinters and golden sap sprayed across my face, burning wherever it touched skin. The creature's talons—swords, they were basically swords—had shredded through bark and wood like paper.
"Faster!" The word tore from my burning lungs.
We vaulted over a fallen log. Behind us, another earth-shaking crash—the creature had landed exactly where we'd been standing.
The ground trembled. Again. Again. It pursued us on foot now, each step sending shockwaves through the forest floor.
A flicker of movement between the trees—someone else running, parallel to our path. The same stumbling gait I'd heard earlier when I’d first arrived inthe forest.
A ravine gaped before us—six feet across, black water rushing far below. Marx didn't hesitate. She launched herself across the gap with the spirit of someone who'd spent her life outrunning death. She hit the far side hard, rolling with the impact.
Thatcher followed, his longer legs carrying him across easily despite his horns throwing off his balance.
I backed up three steps, took a running start?—
Wet leaves betrayed me at the edge. My foot slipped. For one terrible moment, I plummeted toward the black water, my antlers dragging me down like anchors. Then Thatcher's hand locked around my wrist, his face straining as he hauled me up onto solid ground.
"I've got you," he panted. "Always got you."
The abomination's beak appeared at the ravine's edge. We stared at each other across the gap—predator and prey, locked in a moment of terrible understanding.
Then it spread those massive wings and leaped.
"Move!" Marx's scream jolted us into motion.
We plunged deeper into the forest, racing west away from the river's sound, where trees grew so thick their trunks kissed. The triple peaks had vanished behind the canopy, leaving us directionless except for the need to flee. Here, the creature couldn't follow—its wingspan too massive, its bulk too great for the narrow spaces.
But I heard it circling overhead, screaming its rage and frustration. A talon punched through the canopy, groping blindly for prey it could sense but not see. We pressed ourselves against tree trunks, holding our breath as death reached mere inches away.
Finally, blessed silence. The creature's cries faded, then vanished.
We collapsed in a hollow formed by three massive trees. We'd covered at least a mile of rough terrain. The sound of the river was gone now, replaced by the eerie silence of deep forest. Without the peaks or sun to guide us—darkness was falling fast—I had no idea which direction we faced.
Godsdamn it.
Every muscle in my body screamed for mercy.
"Well." Marx wiped blood from her temple where her antlers had carved fresh wounds. "That was invigorating."
Thatcher slumped beside me, his breathing ragged. "Are we even safe here?"
"For now." I touched my scalp gingerly, wincing at the wetness. "But those things still hunt out there. And night's coming."
Through our bond, exhaustion mirrored between us. But despair lurked underneath.
"We can't fight them," Thatcher said quietly. "Did you see what happened to that contestant?"
The image burned behind my eyelids—branches erupting from his mouth, his desperate hands clawing at his face as bark consumed him from within.
"He used his abilities and became a tree," Marx stated flatly. "So powers are off the table."
"And weapons don't work either." His arrows had simply dissolved against the creature's hide. "So what do we do? How do we survive until dawn?"
"Wait." Thatcher's voice sharpened with sudden understanding. "Think about what Davina said. About the natural order. About everything serving its purpose."
I watched realization dawn in his eyes.
"We're not the hunters anymore," he continued. "The moment those crowns transformed, we became something else."
