Dusk lowered its shroud over the village, painting it in hues of surrender as Enna stood at the edge of the silent square. Her breath felt too loud, a fragile whisper against the oppressive quiet. Nothing moved. Not the wind. Not the trees. Not the people who should have been gathering for curfew, locking doors, shuttering windows. She tasted the fear before she felt it—a metallic tang on her tongue that spoke of invasion.
Then the stillness snapped.
A child's scream. A splintering crash. And then the air itself burst, shattered by the incursion of vampire soldiers breaching the village's defenses.
They came from the north, from the shadowed cliffs and the serpent-like path that twisted through the pines. Tarin led them his presence unmistakable a dark silhouette with military precision, the scar along his jaw catching the last light of day. Enna's heart surged, pounding like a trapped thing. She spun, bolting through the chaos as Tarin's soldiers swept through the village with cold, efficient violence.
She sprinted toward the nearest cottages, weaving between stone fences and low-hanging eaves. Families spilled into the streets, their eyes wide with terror. Enna's voice strained to reach them, urging them toward hidden cellars and escape tunnels.
"Go! Hide until they're gone!" she called, yanking open a door.
Inside, a woman clutched two children, tears streaking her face. Enna pushed them toward a narrow staircase, then ran again, feet finding familiar paths, heart pounding in her ears.
The village was a tangle of chaos. Shouts and cries echoed against the stone. Smoke from burning thatch clawed at her lungs. She ducked into an alley, narrowly avoiding a soldier whose head turned too late. Firelight painted the world in orange and shadow.
But Enna knew these streets. Every twisting alley, every secret corner. Her fingers skimmed chipped shutters, splintered doorways. She moved with the urgency of someone who had trained for this day.
A group of soldiers burst from a collapsing barn, their pale faces lit by fire. A child screamed—then silence. Enna clenched her jaw. She couldn't stop. A nearby blaze blasted heat into her face. She stumbled.
"Enna!" someone shouted, ragged with fear.
She turned. A man struggled with a soldier at the square's edge. Too far from safety. She pushed forward, urging others with her.
"This way!" she shouted, grabbing a fleeing woman's arm and pointing toward the edge of the village. "The old shed there's a cellar beneath it!"
But the path wasn't safe. Shadows moved fast on the other side. Soldiers.
Enna's pulse thundered. She reached for the wounded, helped where she could. Her hands met skin slick with blood.
A presence blocked her path.
Tarin.
He stood in the firelight, expression unreadable, scar catching the glow. Something flickered behind his eyes. Hesitation?
"You're not supposed to be here," he said.
She didn't answer. Spun. Ran. Ducking into an alley.
He didn't stop her.
And that hung heavy in the smoke.
Enna ran. Her confrontation with Tarin had cost time. Too much. The village around her twisted into fire and ruin. She helped who she could. Saw a family vanish into the woods. Saw a soldier kick down a door.
She kept going, toward the outskirts, toward freedom. Toward guilt.
"We'll find you, healer," a soldier's voice called.
She didn't look back.
The village blurred...red and black and panic as she vanished into the forest.
Enna hadn't wanted this. Hadn't wanted to use her gifts. But there he lay, a villager bleeding beneath a collapsing wall. She hesitated. Then ran to him.
The world around her burned, but she focused on him. On the life slipping away. She pressed her palm to the wound.
Blood met blood. Magic flared. It seared. It healed. It marked her.
Smoke, shouts...none of it reached her. Her hands trembled with effort and fear. Magic pulsed, drawing eyes she didn't want. Still, she kept going.
The wound knit shut. The man blinked. Alive.
Enna staggered back, heart racing. She looked around.
They were watching.
Humans. Vampires. Soldiers.
Frozen.
Wonder. Accusation. Recognition.
Her breath caught. The air thickened.
And then she ran.
She fled through the ruins, past burning homes, past people she couldn't save. Her magic had exposed her. Her presence left ripples behind. But she didn't stop.
She reached the square. Saw villagers fleeing. Saw soldiers regrouping. She hesitated...just a breath...then ran again.
Into the forest.
Mist swallowed the trees. Swallowed her.
Enna ran until her legs ached, lungs burning. Her thoughts a blur of shame and desperation. She was hunted now. And the memory of Tarin—his eyes, his silence—followed her like a second shadow.
No. She couldn't think of him.
The forest closed around her. Dark. Indifferent. Eternal.
And still she ran.
She ran until the only vow that mattered was this: survive.