The night was alive with its usual symphony of whispers, rustling leaves, and the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the opy. The Fae sprihrough the forest, its movements quicksilver, almost weightless. Panic cwed at its a mind, a primal terror it hadn’t felt iuries.

  Behind it, something moved—silent, relentless, and far too close.

  The fae didn’t dare look back, its translut aura wings shimmering faintly as they flickered, the effort of flight too risky with so many low-hanging branches. It weaved between arees, its lithe body gliding with a graly the Fae possessed. Still, it wasn’t fast enough.

  It could feel the presence gaining.

  “What the fuck is this?” the Fae hissed to itself, breathless. “I’m not supposed to be hunted. I’m the hunter!”

  It ducked beh a fallen log, its glowing eyes sing frantically for a path forward. The shadows around it twisted unnaturally, as if the forest itself recoiled from whatever pursued it.

  Then it saw something on the ground—a faint shimmer in the dirt, somethiallic. Curiosity and desperation battled for dominance as it leaped over the small object.

  That’s when it stumbled.

  It wasn’t a proper stumble. The Fae was too graceful for that. But its foot brushed something—something sharp and wrong.

  Pain exploded through its foot as it nded. A searing, unnatural agony shot up its leg, and the fae shrieked, colpsing to the ground.

  It cwed at its foot, finding an iron embedded in its flesh. The hex tendrils of mana burned with a venomous fury, as they pumped iron that was eating into its aura like acid.

  “What kind of sick fuck does this?” it spat, thrashing as it tried to rip the free.

  The trap pulsed faintly, as if mog it.

  Anrowl. Louder this time. Whatever was hunting it wasn’t far behind, and now it smelled blood—Fae blood.

  The shadows around it deepened, and the fae froze. A shape, darker than the night itself, loomed at the edge of its vision. It moved without sound, its form indistinct but brimming with malice.

  The air around it grew colder, heavier. The shadows thied unnaturally, and an overwhelming presence bore down on the Fae like a predataze.

  The fae's survival instincts screamed. It tore the from its foot with a pained howl and rolled to the side just as something sshed through the air where it had been.

  It didn’t see what attacked—only the aftermath. A jagged gash opened on its arm, the limb severed ly, falling to the forest floor. The fae stumbled, bck ichor spilling from its wound as it shrieked in both fury and fear.

  The creature lunged again, but this time the fae used its wings, propelling itself upward in a desperate burst of speed. Braore at its body as it asded, its vision blurring from the pain.

  It didn’t stop. It couldn’t stop.

  Bleeding, one-armed, and furious, the fae soared above the treetops, the pale moonlight staining its torn form. Below, the forest remained eerily still. Whatever had pursued it didn’t follow.

  Its ohereal form now disheveled and streaked with dirt. Fear, a feeling the creature rarely eained, g its core. It wasn’t just fear of death—it was fear of the unknown. Whatever was following it wasn’t part of the natural order, not even of the Fae’s twisted one.

  The fae nded shakily on a high cliff, colpsing against the cool sto gasped for air, its remaining hand clutg its wounded shoulder. The iron burn still lingered, and it snarled, more in frustration than pain.

  It winced as it tried to patch the wound with weak healing magic. The edges of the stump burned where the hexed trap had seared the flesh.

  A’s not fet the genius with the iron trap. Oh, they’re on my list nht up there with the bloody shadow beast that took my arm. Holy, what’s this forest ing to? First mortals with iron hexes, now… whatever that was.

  What in the name of all unholy mischief is that thing? and how did it escape the perimeter with the deep nds? he wondered.

  “Fug witches,” it muttered, its voice trembling. “When did they start hexing s? Who does that?”

  It peered back toward the forest, its glowing eyes narrowed. Whatever that thing was, it didn’t belong here.

  Aher did those cursed s.

  It would heal. It would recover. But tonight, it would simply survive, battered, humiliated, ahing with rage.

  The fae’s lips curled into a grim smile despite itself. “ime,” it hissed into the night. “ime, we’ll see who’s running.”

  But deep within, the fae felt an u couldn’t shake. Whatever had hu was o the forest. And whatever it was, it was still out there, waiting.

  Quantumwizerd