The urgency in Talo's voice cut through the remnants of her dream.
Rasha jolted upright.
They were partially surrounded.
The creature she'd seen earlier — the one that darted through the underbrush like a shadow — had returned. But it hadn't come alone.
It had only been a pup.
Now it stood at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden in brush, wide-eyed and alert. But behind it, others emerged — the full-grown pack. Long, sinewy bodies with sleek black fur, limbs jointed just a little too high, a little too sharp. Their eyes gleamed red beneath the faint moonlight — not glowing, but catching the firelight like blood-slick glass.
The fire's light didn't comfort.
It cast wild shadows against the mossy stones — shadows that writhed as if alive, stretching and recoiling as the beasts approached. The trees themselves seemed to hold their breath.
Talo stood his ground, staff raised.
One of the beasts leapt, jaws flashing — and latched onto the staff midair, gnashing into the wood as Talo braced himself against the weight. Two more came at him — one from each side.
He shifted fast.
With a powerful twist of his body, he slammed the staff and the clinging beast leftward — into the path of the one lunging from that side. The creatures collided with a dull thud, snarls breaking into startled yelps. But the third — the one flanking him from the right — sliced its claws across his back as it passed.
Not deep. But enough to draw blood.
Talo grunted, dropped to a crouch, staff still up.
Across the clearing, three more creatures waited in stillness — heads lowered, muscles coiled. Watching. Judging.
The pup sat behind them, silent, unmoving. Staring at Talo like it was studying a lesson it didn't understand.
And Rasha—
She was already moving.
Her instincts surged. Her breath steadied. Her body moved before thought could follow. She was at Talo's back in a blink — twin blades drawn.
Yin and Yang.
And for the first time since they were forged, she pushed her magic into them.
Her forehead mark flared — a bright, molten red-orange — casting light across her face. The etched runes on both hilts shimmered in unison.
Yang, in her right hand, flared with clean, golden-white light. Not divine. Not celestial. Just pure. Focused. It gleamed like a promise made real.
Yin did not glow.
But Rasha felt it respond. It pulsed — heavy, weighted — drawing something in rather than radiating out. A quiet gravity.
The ground beneath her seemed to breathe — moss crinkling, dark roots pulling slightly tighter. Somewhere beneath, a soft hum vibrated.
Talo turned just in time to see her step forward into the light.
And become it.
She dove past him, blades flashing. The first beast leapt — too slow. She slid beneath it and slashed upward, splitting its belly. It crumpled midair.
She spun — severed another's spine with Yin.
A third lunged — she met it with Yang midair. The strike cleaved clean through.
Talo could only watch.
He'd seen her train. Seen her fight.
But never like this.
Rasha was no longer moving like herself. She was faster. Sharper. Her rhythm so fluid it was like the memory of battle had taken over her muscles. Like she wasn't fighting alone.
Two came at her together — one low, one high.
She pivoted, using the fallen creature's body as a springboard. She leapt — flipped — slashed across the upper one's neck midair, then landed and drove Yin straight into the second's ribcage as it turned.
They dropped.
A crack in the ground widened as she moved. A shimmer of corrupted mana drifted up from the corpses — oily, gray, twisting in the air like smoke. It shimmered… then scattered.
Only two beasts remained.
The pup.
And one full-grown adult, bolting into the brush.
Rasha didn't let it escape.
She dropped Yang — the blade sank tip-first into the earth, still glowing.
She reached for a stone dagger at her belt — smooth, simple, carved from a basalt shard.
She threw it.
One motion. No hesitation.
It struck the creature between the shoulders. It dropped, skidding through the moss.
And then—
Silence.
The only sound left was the crackle of their low fire and the wind sliding through bent branches.
Talo stood frozen, blood still trickling from his back.
And Rasha—
She stood bathed in firelight. Spattered in blood. Eyes wide. Breath quick. Her damp hair clung to her cheeks and neck, and in the curve of her shoulders — the way her chest rose and fell — there was something… not wild.
But alive.
The last creature — the pup — sat trembling in the brush.
It whimpered.
And it watched her.
Its gaze — wide, round, barely understanding — locked onto Rasha's like it saw something ancient.
Rasha stared back.
And in that stillness, something inside her cracked.
That hadn't been her. Not fully.
It had been instinct. It had been motion. Power. Precision.
But not choice.
And she'd allowed it.
The Fire Spirit's words echoed — not memory. Not metaphor. Warning.
"You will change as I do. And change doesn't always ask permission."
She looked down at her hands.
One still gripped Yin — its hilt faintly glowing, warm.
The other — open. Shaking.
Her heartbeat echoed too loud in her ears.
She hadn't hesitated. She hadn't thought. She'd simply… become.
And now the ground was littered with bodies.
Not a battle.
A massacre.
She turned slightly, and Talo was there. Close. Quiet.
Bleeding.
But his eyes — they were not afraid.
Not of her.
He stepped forward and gently took her empty hand.
Her fingers twitched at the contact.
She didn't pull away.
He held her gaze — steady, clear.
"You were amazing," he said, voice rough with awe. "You saved us. You didn't hesitate."
He looked around the clearing — at what she'd done. Then back to her.
"I'm supposed to protect you," he whispered. "But you're the one protecting us."
Rasha's throat tightened.
And Talo's hand let go.
He turned his face to the broken underbrush, the dark streaks on the soil, the damp moss painted red.
A flicker of shame crossed his features.
He didn't speak it.
But Rasha saw it anyway.