My body ached with exhaustion, every movement a battle against my faltering strength, but I refused to give in.
For Jia. For Devon. For Grandmother and Grandfather. I had to buy them time.
Far from the chaos, Jia, Devon, and my grandparents moved swiftly through the dense forest, the shadows of the towering trees offering a fleeting sense of safety. Devon leaned heavily on Grandmother, his face pale and strained, while Jia led the way, her gaze sharp and determined.
"We can't just leave her," Grandmother said, her voice tight with anguish. "Taryn—"
"She made her choice," Jia interrupted, though her own voice wavered with the weight of the decision. "And we have to honor it. But that doesn't mean we leave her for good."
Grandfather's stoic expression betrayed a flicker of emotion as he spoke. "She's right. If we can find a safe location, we can leave signs—clues—so Taryn knows where to find us. We owe her that much."
Grandmother hesitated, her grip on Devon tightening as she glanced back toward the direction of the fight. The distant sounds of snarls and crackling energy lingered in the air like a haunting echo. "She won't forgive us if we don't come back for her."
"We're not abandoning her," Jia said firmly, her pace quickening. "But if we all die there, none of us will stand a chance."
The group pressed on, their footsteps crunching against the forest floor as they searched for anything that could serve as a marker—a broken branch, a carved symbol, anything to guide me toward them. Each step forward was an act of faith, a desperate hope that I would find their trail before it was too late.
Back at the crumbling house, the battle rages on.
My shield flickered, the edges of the energy faltering as exhaustion clawed at my resolve.
"Come on," I muttered through gritted teeth, summoning the last reserves of my strength. "Is that all you've got?"
But even as I fought, a gnawing doubt began to creep in. Would they make it? Would they find a place to hide, a place safe enough to regroup? And would I survive long enough to join them?
The thought threatened to unravel me, but I shoved it aside. I couldn't afford to think about failure—not now.
Meanwhile, Jia and the others stumbled upon a narrow river, its waters glinting in the moonlight like a silver thread. The sight brought a glimmer of hope, the river offering a potential route to safety—or at least a reprieve from the relentless pursuit.
"Here," Jia said, her voice low but urgent. "We can use the river to mask our scent and throw off their trail. If Taryn follows this path, she'll find us."
Grandmother knelt by the water's edge, her hands trembling as she carved a symbol into a smooth stone. It was a simple mark, one that only I would recognize—a reminder of the stories she used to tell me as a child, stories of courage and resilience in the face of darkness.
"She'll see this," Grandmother said softly, her voice heavy with both hope and despair. "She'll know it's from us."
Devon, weak but determined, added his contribution—a scrap of fabric torn from his shirt, tied to a low-hanging branch near the water.
"She'll find us," he said, though his voice was barely above a whisper. "She has to."
As they moved downstream, leaving a trail of subtle clues in their wake, the group couldn't shake the weight of their decision. Every step forward was a reminder of what they had left behind—a reminder of me, standing alone against an overwhelming tide of darkness.
And as the night stretched on, the conflicts deepened. Jia wrestled with her guilt, her fierce determination clashing with the fear that she had made the wrong choice. Grandmother and Grandfather grappled with their own doubts, their faith in my strength tempered by the painful reality of the situation. And Devon, ever the quiet observer, struggled to hold onto hope as his own strength waned.
Back at the battlefield, I fought like a cornered animal, every movement fueled by sheer willpower. The creatures pressed closer, their snarls a cacophony of rage and hunger.
My body screamed for rest.
My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the ground, my breath coming in shallow gasps as the world spun around me.
"I can't… I can't keep this up," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the din.
As darkness threatened to pull me under, I heard a sound—a voice, faint and familiar. It pierced through the noise of the battlefield, a lifeline in the suffocating haze. I tried to dismiss it as a cruel trick, a desperate hope conjured by my weary mind. But no, there it was again. And then another voice, laughter even, cutting through the chaos.
My heart stuttered as I forced my gaze upward, and there they were.
A young girl and her brother, Zichen.
Yike—stood on the edge of the battlefield, their faces alight with a determination that mirrored my own.
Behind them, Baihe and the rest of the students who had managed to escape the campus that day and strangers appeared.
I shook my head, trying to banish the illusion, but it refused to fade.
They were here. They were real.
"Get up, Taryn!" Zichen shouted, his voice fierce despite his youthful face. Yike stood beside him.
Baihe stepped forward, her gaze locking with mine. "We've got you," she said, her voice steady and unwavering. "You're not alone anymore."
The tide shifted at that moment. The students rallied behind me, their presence a beacon of hope in the despair.
Zichen and Yike moved quickly, their coordinated attacks slicing through the hordes of creatures with precision. Baihe and the others covered our flanks, their combined powers creating a barrier that pushed the creatures back.
I wanted to ask them, to demand answers—what powers did they have? What were their limits? How had they found me? But the words lodged in my throat as reality crashed down around me.
This wasn't the time for questions. My survival hinged on their focus, their unwavering protection. I clamped my mouth shut and pressed my trembling body to the ground, willing myself to stay out of their way. For now.