Chapter Three
1108 Words
Seraya
While everyone was still trying to recover from the burst of magic, Seraya saw she had also blown away the soldiers at the gate—clean off their feet.
Dust and debris still spun in the air, disorienting the crowd. Some people yelled or stumbled on each other, others just stared at her in horror. But Seraya saw only one thing: a clear path.
This was her chance.
Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She made a dart for the gate. She pushed forward, with boots squelching in the mud, while ignoring the sharp pain shooting up her legs. The leather soles were slick and nearly useless, but adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her heart pounded against her ribs mercilessly and with no rhythm. She was so scared but all she had on her mind was how to escape.
Behind her, the shouts started again.
“Grab that rogue!”
“Get her!”
“She’s a witch!”
She grit her teeth and ran faster. The voices cut through the air like knives. Each word was another reminder that she didn’t belong. Probably never had and never would. But she would not let them capture her.
Outside the towering stone walls of the port city of Ardmore was a dense, wild forest. A mile away, or maybe less. If she could just make it there, she could disappear. Vanish into the trees. The forest wouldn’t judge her
She remembered the last time she ran like this—the night everything changed. The night her world exploded in light and sound and betrayal. But the forest was her friend.
The forest had been her only friend since the magic inside her first betrayed her. She would never forget how it cost her her pack and turned her into a rogue.
She bolted through the gates, her breath catching in her throat. The road ahead looked like it could save her. It also looked like it could get her killed.
Behind her, the barks began.
The hounds had recovered. They were sleek, deadly things built to hunt rogues and rip through them. She could hear their paws hitting the ground. Each thud landed straight in her nerves. They were getting close. Too close.
Her lungs burned. Her legs screamed. But she couldn’t stop.
You can’t let them take you. You know what they’ll do.
She didn’t even want to think about the cells beneath the Crimson Howls’ stronghold. With what she's seen in the past few months, she's not even sure she'll make it that far. Seraya was sure they would kill her immediately when they caught her.
She turned off the road now, her heart still hammering as she pushed her tired legs as far as they could go. The trees looked safe, but every step felt like she was dragging her body through quicksand.
Just a little farther. Just a little more.
A snarl cut through the air behind her. It was too close for comfort.
She wasn't fast enough.
One of the hounds was gaining, but she didn’t dare look back. She focused only on the trees—dark, ancient, and waiting.
If she could just reach the shadows, she would disappear.
But fate, she knew too well, didn’t play fair.
Something moved in the trees ahead.
A figure. Broad-shouldered. Still. Watching.
And then she heard it—that low, guttural growl. But it was not from the hounds.
Someone else was out there waiting for her.
Someone who had been expecting her.
Seraya was beginning to feel trapped. But the only way left to run was forward.
So she kept running forward.
The forest stood ahead like a dark mouth, ready to swallow her. She ran fast. Desperate. Wild. Her legs ached with every step. Still, she didn’t stop. The shouts behind her grew fainter. The sound of hound paws began to fade too, but she kept going, deeper into the trees, until the moon appeared and the air turned cold.
When she could no longer hear barking, shouting, or footsteps, she slowed down to a jog. Then she stopped. The silence around her felt wrong. Eerie. Not calm. It was like the forest was waiting for something.
She stood still.
There were no hounds. No soldiers. It was just her heart pounding in her chest. She looked back, her breath coming in short gasps.
Did I lose them? Or are they hiding?
It felt too easy. It was never easy. But she still hoped.
Still moving, she pulled off what was left of her boots and threw them into the bushes opposite her. If the hounds later came this way, maybe they would follow the scent the wrong way.
Now barefoot, she winced with each step. But she kept going. Her eyes scanned the trees.
She needed water. Not just to drink, but to hide her scent. If she found a stream, she could even go under for a while. That might be enough.
She tried to remember what her father used to say. Back when she still had a home. Back when she wasn’t a rogue.
Look for frogs. And birds. Where there’s life, there’s water. Water runs downhill. The greener the plants, the closer you are.
She looked around. The ferns were thick near a slope in the ground. That meant something. She followed it, hoping. Listening and sniffing the air.
There—she caught the smell of wet stone and moss.
She moved faster. Branches scratched her arms and legs. The sound of bugs grew louder. That meant she was close.
She reached the top of a ridge and saw it. There was a narrow stream running below, winding through the trees like a silver line. Her chest filled with so much relief, she could cry. She dropped to her knees and drank from her hands. Then she rubbed water on her neck and arms, scrubbing hard to mask as much of her scent as she could. She would walk through the stream. Follow it. Maybe it could take her out of here, safely.
She stood up.
Then something hit her from the side.
It was fast and heavy. One second she was standing. Next, she was on the ground. The air left her lungs in a rush.
A werewolf.
It had come from nowhere. Strong, fast, and silent. It landed on her hard. Its weight pressed her down. Its claws first tore into the dirt beside her head, then settled on her arms.
It growled, and she felt the sound deep in her bones.
She opened her mouth to scream.
But it was already too late.
- Writer
