She staggered back as the blade grazed her stomach, slicing through cloth and skin with a sharp sting. She winced but forced herself to focus—this wasn't the moment to falter. One mistake could cost her everything.
Rael advanced, relentless, his strikes fast and aiming to kill. She deflected one, twisted, and slashed with the stolen dagger—managing to land a hit on his side.
But then he swung low and hard, aiming straight for her neck.
She raised her arm—too late.
The blade tore through the fabric and dug deep into her already-injured forearm.
Pain detonated like a firework.
She gasped, stumbling backward, clutching her arm as warm blood rushed between her fingers.
Rael's smirk widened. "Now the real fun begins."
Sylva looked up—and froze.
His eyes. There was more than hunger for a fight in them.
Instead, there was something sadistic and predatory.
And suddenly, her body betrayed her.
It wasn't pain. It wasn't fear.
It was heat.
A slow, creeping flush bloomed beneath her skin, burning through her limbs like a fever.
Everything felt too warm. Too sensitive.
"What the fuck…" she breathed.
She staggered again, head spinning.
Her pulse was erratic. Her skin was hot, too hot. The sweat forming at the back of her neck felt thick. The forest looked… off. Too vivid. Her clothes pressed against her body like they didn't fit anymore.
Her breathing grew shallow. Every exhale felt too loud.
"Did you…" she growled, "put something in that blade?"
Rael shrugged, dragging the tip of his dagger across his palm like a toy. "Just a little edge. Slows the body, and scrambles the mind. Drives the instincts wild."
He grinned.
"Let's see how long that fire lasts, sweetheart."
Sylva swayed, blinking hard.
Her muscles twitched. Her mind screamed at her to run, to focus, to fight—but the ache was spreading, crawling under her skin like heat under coals.
Rael watched, enjoying every second.
Sylva began fighting the aphrodisiac with sheer mental force, clinging to focus.
Even with blood loss blurring her vision, even with the drug clouding her thoughts like a dense fog, she met Rael blow for blow.
But then he changed.
He released his claws—long, blackened, sharp like bone—and what little humanity clung to his movements slipped away. The remnants of his werewolf strength surged. He moved faster. Hit harder.
And Sylva couldn't keep up.
Claws tore across her side. Her shoulder. Flesh split, blood sprayed. Her muscles screamed, her breath caught, but she didn't fall.
Rael laughed through it all.
"You're impressive, sweetheart. Really. But I think it's time we ended the warm-up."
She stumbled back, dizzy now. Her vision doubled. Her knees buckled, and she caught herself against a tree.
"And when you're too weak to fight back," Rael murmured, licking blood from his claws, "I'll have a little fun with that pretty body before I gut you."
Her vision spun. A bell screamed inside her head. Her body was collapsing under her, but her mind—barely—still worked.
Claws. Inhuman strength. What the hell is he? she thought through the fog. But the thought slipped away because—
Pain shrieked through her nerves. Her limbs screamed. The aphrodisiac was still messing with her head, but the blood loss was getting worse.
She deflected his next strike and ran.
She didn't know where she was going—just away. Anywhere but here. Her hand pressed against her wound, warm blood leaking through her fingers, painting her skin red.
The forest was darker now. The sun had long since vanished, leaving eerie shadows in its wake. Still, she ran but Rael caught up to her easily.
He laughed as he approached her once more, delighting in her weakness. Then he said something that made her blood run colder than the night air.
"You know, Acacia told me you only had one family. Your mother," Rael said, breath hot on her ear. "Must've been a lonely little life, huh? One mommy and no one else. It's a shame she'll be devastated when she finds your corpse. Even worse when she sees what I did to it."
That did it.
Something inside Sylva snapped.
An anger unlike anything she had ever felt before erupted inside her, hotter than the drug, stronger than the pain. It consumed her body and soul. Only one thought rang through her mind, again and again.
Take his life.
Kill him.
Mangle his body.
Tear off his head.
She didn't know where the strength came from, especially with the stabbing pain in her abdomen, but she welcomed it. She rose with fury in her eyes, just as Rael lowered his guard, thinking it was almost over. In one fluid motion, she weaved under his swing, pivoted, and slammed her elbow into his jaw.
He staggered.
She ripped the dagger from the belt of one of his fallen men and slashed it clean across his back.
"Fuck!" he roared, stumbling forward but she didn't give him a moment to recover.
She lunged again, attacking without pause, again and again.
"How dare you speak about my mother?" she screamed, her voice hoarse with fury. "I'll cut out your tongue and shove it down your fucking throat—you bastard!"
She plunged the blade into his side.
He groaned.
Another stab—his thigh.
Rael fought back, claws swiping, but she didn't stop.
His defenses dropped with each strike. He backed away, faltering, blood pouring from a dozen places.
He began to panic. His life was slipping away with every strike, but he refused to die. In desperation, he reached for the last card he had left—an old life-saving spell gifted to him by a dying black witch long ago. He chanted the incantation under his breath and leaped to teleport away.
But nothing happened.
He blinked—once—then his body crashed to the ground.
Sylva was already over him. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back, her eyes blazing.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going, you fucking coward?" she spat.
Rael's eyes widened in horror. "Y-you're a—witch! Let go of me! Fucking witch!"
"A witch?" She let out a breathless, bitter laugh. "I'd love to be a witch."
And then, without hesitation—
She stabbed him in the gut.
Once. Twice.
His scream was short-lived.
She went for his legs. His arms. His shoulders. And when he was twitching, choking on his blood, she looked him dead in the eyes.
"This," she hissed, "is for my mother."
Then she slit his throat.
Silence.
Rael's body collapsed to the forest floor in a heap. Blood soaked the dirt, and painted her hands, her arms, and her face. Her blood mixed with his, staining the ground beneath her knees.
The rage held her upright.
But only for a moment.
Then it all came crashing down.
The pain. The blood loss. The venom of the drug still running through her body.
Sylva collapsed with a strangled cry.
Her body twisted in agony. Her abdomen screamed. Her wounds pulsed, burning. The aphrodisiac now felt like acid—her nerves caught fire with every twitch of her muscles.
She screamed.
She screamed until her throat was raw, tears ran down her cheeks and her fingernails clawed the dirt.
It dragged on for minutes that felt like an eternity before it began to fade, leaving her weak and hollow.
Her breathing was ragged. Her consciousness flickered.
A cool breeze slid over her skin. Whispers brushed against her ears, soft and melodic.
She forced her eyes open. The forest looked the same—vines, roots, trunks—but then it shifted.
The trees changed. Their trunks were larger, their roots gnarled and sprawling, their leaves glowing faintly with an unnatural light. She blinked, and everything returned to normal.
She didn't trust it. But she moved anyway.
It was slow. Painful. She leaned against a tree for support, forcing herself to walk despite her trembling legs. Step by step, she stumbled forward, refusing to collapse again.
She didn't know where she was going—only forward.
After nearly two minutes of walking, resting, catching herself, and groaning through the pain, she reached a spot and slid down to the base of a tree, finally allowing herself to rest.
The whispers returned.
She closed her eyes as the soft, soothing feeling washed over her. She felt something stroke her hair gently, and though part of her wanted to look, she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes.
If she had, she would have seen that she was no longer in the same place. The forest had changed.
And an elongated tree branch, tipped with glowing leaves, was gently brushing through her hair as it whispered her name.
"Sylva."