“Run,” Ani said, fear gripping her chest. “We have to run.”

“Why is a human helping the Veants?” Miriam said in a low whisper. “And he’s cutting through the men without even using a blade.”

“We have to go now,” she urged again. She didn’t expect them to recognize Worldrending. From this far away, it must’ve looked like a quick blur at most. But she would never forget it – the way the air crackled and distorted with the slightest touch.

“Looks like Harald beat us to it,” Gallus said grimly. Ani looked over to the branch on her left and saw that the large man had disappeared.

So he was a coward after all, she thought. Or just a man with good instincts.

“Damn it,” Miriam said. “When did he even leave?”

“We gotta beat him to the wagon,” Ani said, and she dropped down from the tree. “He might try to leave without us.”

The other two landed next to her. “He better leave some of the horses there,” Miriam said darkly. “Or I’ll string him up when I get back.”

“They’re going to know we’re here.” Gallus was still holding his fox-eye. “Four dead, one captured. He’s saying something to th–” He broke off and even in the dark Ani could see the panic on his face. “They’re coming. Split up.” And with that, he darted eastward into the forest.

“Shit, shit,” Miriam cursed. “Ani, I’ll see you in a bit, alright?”

Ani didn’t respond. Not that she didn’t want to but because the fear had made its way to her throat. She gave the blonde woman a slight nod that she hoped she saw and ran off in the opposite direction that Gallus had taken.

The horses and the wagon were camped in the east, but that wasn’t her goal. She had to survive. Her best chance at it was to go the opposite direction as Gallus and Harald. Most likely, one of the Hounds had already outed the location of their camp.

She ran and ran and ran faster than she had ever before. Faster than she should’ve. She stumbled over stones, brushed against tree bark, narrowly avoided vines. She cursed incessantly, partly because she could feel herself bleeding but she didn’t know where and partly out of frustration towards herself. She had been a Hound for a good six years; she knew better than to lose her composure like this. She should’ve been hiding her tracks or doubling back.

But it was the fear. It tripped her, it snared her, and then it threw her forward. She didn’t question why a human had those powers nor did she question what she had seen. His eyes had glowed a stark white just as the Worldrenders’ did when they used their powers.

She was sure that clever Gallus would’ve kept his fox-eye out, occasionally scanning behind him for pursuers. She knew she should too, but she felt like a child walking down the narrow streets at night, a chill running down her spine and an irrational certainty that a beast was following her. If she looked back, it’d pounce on her.

Time became irrelevant. All she could sense was her own blood. It was dripping down her body, drumming in her ear, pumping through her heart.

And then she heard it. It was a distant rumbling at first, but it was getting closer and closer. It thundered and stormed through the forest and her instincts told her that it knew where she was.

She wouldn’t be outrunning it, it seemed. Searching the area, she found a broad tree with a hollow at its base, possibly an abandoned animal den. She pulled out her gallinger flail. With its four chains, she obscured her footprints and contorted her body to fit inside the hollow.

It was uncomfortable and a little painful; her skin was pressed against the bark and she couldn’t tell if it was blood or centipedes running down her left thigh. She steadied her breathing, hugged the flail to her chest, and waited.

As the rumbling grew closer, she realized that it was the sound of trees falling. No, they weren’t just falling. They were collapsing and crashing against each other in quick succession.

It was the Worldrender.

Then, the rumbling stopped and she knew that the man had reached the end of her trail. There was a small hole in the bark, but she couldn’t see anything through it. She thought she heard him softly treading along the leaves and branches. In the distance, she heard the mournful chirping of birds, the victims of sudden and wanton destruction.

A strange thought emerged: could she kill him? She recalled Harald’s words about whether the Worldrenders were mortal creatures. What about a human with their powers? The last thing a hunter would expect is to be preyed upon. If she followed him and attacked him, then she –

The world erupted. She felt her body flying through the air, small shards of wood piercing her, and it all happened so quickly that she couldn’t even scream. Her body collided with a fractured tree stump and there was a cracking sound. Her vision spun and she closed her eyes, leaning her head against the stump.

Get up, get up, get up, whispered her instincts.

The leaves crinkled. A branch snapped. The Worldrender was approaching.

You’re dead, said the fear. There’s no escaping it this time.

“Alive?” said a soft voice.

She opened her eyes. The Worldrender stood a few feet away from her, his halberd resting on his right shoulder. She was immediately struck by how young he looked; she must’ve been older than him by at least three or four years.

The boy – for that was what he was – had a lean build but there was a marked gauntness about his face and his shaggy black hair grew to his back. His tattered gray robes fit loosely on him, his sleeves billowing slightly. If they were in Truweld, she’d suspect him to be either a beggar or a stable boy. But there was a regal bearing about him, one that was eerily reminiscent of the Worldrenders.

What unsettled her most were his eyes, his pupils so gray that they were hard to see in the dark. They were the most child-like part of him, so wide and curious, and he stared at her with unreserved fascination. Behind him was a trail of debris, masses of trees and animals that he had barreled through on his path here.

And had she imagined it or had he spoken her language? Could he be reasoned with? Or would she have to fight?

Without moving her head, she scanned the area for her flail which had gone flying along with her. It was useless; she wouldn’t be able to see anything in the dark forest without using her fox-eye. She bit her lip in frustration. Hounds usually carried pouches of supplies tied on their belt, but she had packed lightly for watch duty.

“What is the word?” The boy suddenly spoke but it seemed to be directed at himself. His voice was deeper than she thought it’d be, and he spoke slowly yet fluently as if he was deciphering a passage from an ancient tome. “Beauty. I didn’t know humans could be so beauty. No.” He made a small frown. “Beautiful.”

Her fear, momentarily assuaged by his youthful appearance, came flooding back. His words confirmed her suspicions; he spoke as if he was observing a caged bird. And she could see now that within his curious gaze was a passive condescension.

“What are you?” she said in a low whisper.

He studied her for a long moment. “I am a Worldrender,” he said, but there was a note of uncertainty and something else. He lifted the halberd off his shoulder and held it by his side. It was as tall as he was, and seeing it up close she noticed that the front blade was unnaturally long for a halberd. It was almost scythe-like.

“Tenth of twelve,” he said. “Where are the other two?”

She scrambled to her feet, her entire body aching in pain. “I’m not telling you.”

She didn’t miss his implication. He had found someone else before her. A part of her wanted to know if it was Miriam or Gallus, but she didn’t let herself get distracted. Most likely she’d be joining whoever it was soon enough.

He reached into his robes, and she tensed up. He pulled out a cylindrical object with a long handle on one end and four chains on the other. A gallinger flail. He threw it at her and, though bewildered, she caught it by one of the chains.

It wasn’t hers. The handle was longer, built for someone with a larger hand.

“I have given my opponents the same offer,” he said. “You are allowed to make the first move. But if you run, I will use everything in my power to kill you.” He gestured at the flail. “I took that from my last opponent. She distracted me and ran.”

She gritted her teeth. So this was Miriam’s flail. She twisted the handle and the four chains ignited. The boy stared at the flail in wonder, and she realized that she had fallen for his ploy. He had given it to her because he wanted to know how it worked.

No matter. She reached into her pouch and with a quick flourish threw one of the daggers at his head. He turned his head to the side, dodging it with ease but keeping his distance. He was toying with her, something that she’d guessed but now confirmed. From that, she guessed that he wouldn’t use his Worldrender powers unless necessary. If he wanted to kill her, there would be no need for this silly duel.

So, she’d surprise him.

She ran straight at him, flail in her right hand and three daggers in her left. She threw two daggers at him, one at his left arm and the other at his head again. He sidestepped to the right, just within swinging reach of her flail.

He parried her swing with his halberd and then swept his blade at her head. She dropped to her knees, already expecting it, and pulled a dagger from her pouch. She aimed it at his right thigh, but he kicked her hand away.

Scrambling, she created some distance between them. Her wrist stung from the kick, but she didn’t falter. She pulled out her second-to-last dagger and ran at him again.

The halberd would be less effective at close-range. With her right hand, she swung the flail wildly in long sweeps and went for quick jabs with the dagger in her left hand.

The combination of the two uneven weapons didn’t disorient him as she had hoped. Although there was a brief flash of surprise on his face, he adjusted quickly, making short swings to fend off the flail and running forward with a low thrust every time she stepped in to stab him.

This is bad, she thought. He was slowly pushing her back. Why is a Worldrender so well-trained in combat weapons?

She held the flail over her head as if she was about to swing down and then immediately threw her dagger instead. Instead of being distracted by the flail, he raised his halberd’s shaft to deflect the dagger. With a sudden burst of speed, he ran forward and went for his own overhead swing.

She stepped back as quickly as she could, reached into her other pouch, and threw her fox-eye at him. Thinking it was a dagger, he threw his body to the side and that gave her enough time to back away from him.

Panting, she patted her pouch. One dagger left. Despite that, she smiled with satisfaction. Around the two of them was now a small fire blazing along the dense foliage that surrounded them.

The gallinger flail was more often used as a tool rather than a weapon. It made for a good flare and light source. And a good fire starter. The forest debris that the Worldrender had caused was perfect for kindling and so she had dragged the flail across it as she fought.

She had to stall and wait for the fire to grow. That is if he didn’t use his powers first. There had never been a chance of her winning to begin with, but at least she had tried. She’d go out blazing against the Worldrenders she loathed and feared so much. She watched the boy intently, waiting for his next move.

The right sleeve of his robes was smoldering, and he watched it idly for a few seconds before snuffing it out. His attention shifted to a branch beside him that had just started crackling.

Again, her fear of the Worldrender gave way to confusion. There was a strange innocence to him that made him seem much younger than he looked. His gaze shifted back to her and she quickly pulled a dagger, her final one, out of her pouch. What he said next bewildered her.

“Give me back the weapon and I will spare your life.”

She eyed him suspiciously and didn’t move.

“Worldrenders do not lie,” he said with a frown. “I have taken an interest in it.”

“Really?” she said. “I didn’t know that about Worldrenders.”

“Yes,” he replied impatiently. “It is a taboo among our kind.”

She saw the sincerity on his face, but the sudden change in his attitude still perplexed her. She twisted the handle on the flail and within a few seconds, the flames disappeared from the four chains. Cautiously, she walked over to him and presented the handle. If he took a few steps closer, she might be able to run the dagger through his throat.

He didn’t give her a chance. With the long blade of his halberd, he snatched it from her hands by the chains. He kept his expression carefully blank as he studied it, but there was an unmistakable gleam of glee in his eyes.

Standing so close to him, she realized he was only an inch or two taller than her. He reminded her of the Vivineers back at home, the way they coveted and examined other creatures as if they were the finest jewelry.

“You’re human,” she said aloud to herself.

“I am a Worldrender,” he said, a peculiar wistfulness to his voice, “and also a human, yes.”

“Why are you on their side?”

He ignored her and took a few steps away from her, turning towards the way he came.

“Tell your people that I will come for them,” he said. His eyes began to glow white. “I am Lydos the only true Foretoken. The seven you worship are false idols. When I return to Truweld, I will claim my throne and lead our fallen people back to the Worldrenders.”

He raised his left hand to the sky and pulled it towards him. If it was her first time seeing it, she would doubt her eyes. The world caved inward to his grasp and he pushed himself forward into the air. Within seconds, he was gone from her view.

That’s how he moves so quickly, she realized. He pushes the world behind him as he leaps. She didn’t quite understand it, but it felt like she had learned an integral part of their powers.

Sudden vertigo overtook her. She sank to the ground, overwhelmed by startling flashes of exhaustion and pain. It had been easy to ignore during the fight, but there were still shards of wood embedded in her flesh. And she had been running for so long. Her adrenaline depleted, it all caught up to her.

No, not like this.

Her vision darkened, the smell of smoke filling her nose. If she didn’t perish from her wounds, then she would burn in a fire that she had started. She tried to crawl to her feet. She had to get back to Truweld to warn the Foretoken. The Worldrender was coming, and it was human.

She used the last of her energy to scream in frustration. Had she been spared just to die a more pathetic death?

Heaviness and then lightness.