The forest was a tangle of shadows, each movement a ripple in the blackness. Every branch that cracked underfoot seemed to echo a death knell, and every rustling leaf was a whisper from the beyond. But Sioux barely noticed the sounds around them. They were running—running with a ferocity that only desperation could fuel. Caedric was at their side, but even he couldn’t keep up the pace. Sioux’s legs burned, muscles straining with the effort of escaping the relentless pursuit.

Behind them, the Harbingers were closing in. Their footfalls were heavy, purposeful, like a storm on the horizon, and Sioux could hear the rattle of chains and the shrill whispers of their otherworldly voices. There was no stopping them now.

“We’re not going to outrun them,” Caedric panted, his breath ragged. His cloak flared behind him as they pushed through the trees, moving faster than the average human ever could. But the Harbingers? They were faster. They had been chasing for far too long, and Sioux knew that there was no safe place—no sanctuary.

"We need to find higher ground," Sioux barked, their voice tense with the weight of their situation. The sigil inside them was thrumming, aching to be used, but they held it back. There was no time for that yet. No time for anything but survival.

Caedric nodded, his face a grim mask, and they broke through a line of dense thickets, emerging into a small clearing. The moon was high, a cold and distant witness to their struggle. It cast pale light over the forest floor, illuminating a series of jagged rocks that would offer them some advantage if they could reach them. Sioux’s heart pounded, but there was a strange flicker of hope—until they heard it.

The growl.

It started as a low rumble, distant but undeniable. A warning. The hair on Sioux’s neck stood on end as the growl grew louder, its timbre dark and menacing, cutting through the stillness like a blade. It wasn’t an animal. No, it was something far more dangerous. Something older.

Sioux halted, their breath caught in their throat. They turned, eyes searching the shadows, but the only thing they could see was the creeping fog rising from the earth, twisting and swirling like the remnants of some forgotten nightmare. They could hear it now—closer, closer still—the deep, guttural sound of something far beyond their understanding.

“What is that?” Caedric whispered, his voice barely audible as if speaking louder would invoke whatever beast was watching them.

Before Sioux could respond, a massive shape emerged from the fog, gliding between the trees with terrifying grace. It was too large to be human, and its outline was distorted, as though the very air around it warped to accommodate its form. Its eyes—glowing like molten gold—pierced the darkness, fixing onto Sioux and Caedric with an intensity that made their skin crawl.

Then came the voice—a low, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate in their bones.

“The Blood Omen will be mine,” it spoke, the words thick with power, dripping with an insatiable hunger.

Sioux’s heart skipped a beat. The creature’s words were like a death sentence, but something else flickered in their chest. A challenge.

Caedric’s hand gripped his sword tighter, his knuckles whitening, but Sioux stopped him with a sharp shake of their head. “We’re not here to fight it.”

The creature was closing in on them now, its movements too swift for the eye to follow. It had the body of a man, but its limbs were too long, too angular, and its skin was a patchwork of scales and fur, as though it were a grotesque hybrid of predator and shadow. It snarled, the sound echoing off the trees, a warning to the Harbingers who had just emerged from the treeline, their eyes burning with hatred and malice.

“Step aside, beast,” one of the Harbingers growled, its voice thick with disdain. It was the leader—Sioux could tell by the aura of command that hung around him like an oppressive fog. “The Blood Omen belongs to us.”

But the creature didn’t move. Instead, it stepped forward, its eyes narrowing, and it bared a set of razor-sharp teeth, gleaming like ivory daggers under the moonlight.

“I said, the Blood Omen will be mine.”

The tension in the clearing was palpable. Sioux could feel the sigil within them shift, as though it were reacting to the words of the creature. The pull—the constant tugging at their very soul—became unbearable. For a moment, they wondered if the creature had some connection to it. If it had been waiting for them. For this.

The Harbinger leader growled low, his patience thinning. “Then you shall die for it, creature.”

And without another word, the battle began.

The Harbingers moved as one, their dark cloaks billowing like shadows, their weapons raised in unison. The sound of steel against air was deafening as they charged, their eyes burning with the singular focus of their task—to eliminate the Blood Omen.

But the creature? It was faster than they had anticipated. With a speed that blurred the line between reality and nightmare, it leapt into the fray, its body shifting midair like liquid shadow, landing with a bone-crushing force at the head of the charging Harbingers. A clawed hand swung out, catching one of them by the throat and lifting him into the air with ease. The Harbinger struggled, but the creature’s grip was unyielding. With a sickening crunch, the creature twisted, snapping the Harbinger’s neck in one swift motion.

The remaining Harbingers hesitated for only a moment, but that moment was enough for the beast to strike again.

With a ferocious roar, it swiped its massive claws through the air, slicing through the body of another Harbinger as though it were paper. The body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud, but the creature wasn’t done yet. It moved with terrifying precision, its jaws snapping and tearing at anything that came too close.

Caedric’s eyes were wide, his breath caught in his throat. “We need to get out of here,” he whispered urgently to Sioux, but Sioux couldn’t tear their eyes away from the battle. The sigil inside them was thrumming, calling out to the chaos unfolding before them, urging them to join it, to be part of the storm.

But Sioux knew better. They couldn’t—not yet.

Instead, they grabbed Caedric’s arm, pulling him back toward the treeline. “We move now,” Sioux commanded, voice steady despite the chaos.

The beast—this new threat—continued its onslaught, its growls and snarls filling the air as it dismantled the Harbingers with terrifying ease. The leader of the Harbingers bellowed in rage, commanding his remaining followers to regroup. But even as they tried to retaliate, it was clear that the creature had the upper hand. Its every move was a death sentence, and the Harbingers, for all their strength and determination, were outmatched.

Within moments, the last of the Harbingers fell, their bodies littering the clearing, twitching and lifeless.

The creature stood victorious, its breathing heavy but controlled. It turned slowly, its golden eyes locking onto Sioux and Caedric. The air grew still, tense with anticipation. The creature’s gaze was unblinking, its posture predatory, but it made no move toward them.

“I have claimed what is mine,” the creature said, its voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the ground beneath them. “And you…” It paused, its gaze darkening. “You will serve me.”

Sioux stood still, heart pounding, mind racing. They knew what it wanted. They could feel it, deep within the marrow of their bones—the pull of the sigil, the way it resonated with the creature’s presence.

But Sioux wasn’t ready to give in. Not yet.

“We’re leaving,” Sioux said, their voice low but firm, and with that, they turned and led Caedric through the trees, their steps quick and deliberate.

The creature did not stop them. Instead, it watched, its eyes burning with an inscrutable hunger, and in the distance, the howls of the defeated Harbingers echoed through the night.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sioux allowed themselves to breathe, to escape—for now.