The forest seemed to close in around them as they ran.

Obed's breathing was harsh and ragged, his muscles burning with the effort of carrying Nero's weight. Beside him, Lucy ran in silence, her face a mask of grief and rage. The mascara that had run down her cheeks now mixed with sweat and dirt, leaving dark streaks across her pale skin.

They didn't speak. There was nothing to say.

Behind them, the buzzing had faded to a distant drone, though whether that meant they had escaped or the swarm had simply found easier prey, Obed couldn't say. He didn't dare stop to check.

His mind raced as he ran, processing everything that had just happened in those few terrible minutes.

The Night Hornets were different. That much was obvious. But the implications of that difference made his blood run cold. Those creatures were not the same swarm they had encountered earlier.

Which meant these were a new breed. A different population entirely.

And if two different swarms of Night Hornets were inhabiting the same area, then the only logical explanation was that one was hunting the other. The newer, larger, more corrupted specimens were likely predators to the original swarm, devouring them or displacing them through sheer superiority.

It was evolution through corruption.

It was a terrifying thought. The Abominations of Malady's Garden were already dangerous enough. If they were beginning to mutate and change so quickly and drastically, to become something worse than they already were, then the entire region was on the verge of becoming completely inhabitable for humans.

Another Great Calamity in the making.

Obed's jaw clenched. He had heard the stories. He knew what happened when corruption reached critical mass in a region. The land itself became poisoned, twisted, until nothing human could survive there. Cities fell. Trade routes were abandoned. Entire populations were displaced or simply ceased to exist.

He felt the weight of Nero's body shift on his shoulder and adjusted his grip.

Why had he done this?

The question gnawed at him. By all logic, he should have left the boy behind. If what he had seen earlier was reported to the church, the boy would be taken to the torture chambers for interrogation. Humans that engaged with supernatural entities outside of the control of the Church were considered heretics and would be undoubtedly put to death.

For all intents and purposes, he was supposed to be a condemned man.

And yet Obed had grabbed him and run.

Why?

He thought back to that moment. To the sight of Garrick standing over Fallow's corpse, his hands covered in his blood, already reaching for his coin purse.

He knew how much of a nasty, damned bastard Fallow was. But even then...

To the cold calculation in those eyes that saw people only as resources to be exploited or obstacles to be removed.

Obed had felt something in that moment.

Something he hadn't felt so hard in a long time.

Disgust.

At Garrick. At himself for having followed the man for so long. At the entire system that created people like Garrick.

And beneath that disgust, something else. Something he was almost afraid to name.

Respect.

Nero had been outnumbered, outmatched, betrayed by people he had trusted enough to travel with. And instead of begging, instead of trying to bargain or plead, the boy had looked Garrick in the eye and fought.

He had lost. But he had fought.

There was something admirable in that. Something Obed recognized because it was something he himself had lost years ago. The willingness to stand up and resist even when resistance was futile. The stubborn refusal to simply accept fate.

Obed had spent so long bending, compromising, following whoever seemed strong enough to guarantee his survival. When had he stopped being a person and become just another resource for men like Garrick to exploit?

The weight on his shoulder suddenly felt lighter.

They had been running for what felt like hours but was probably closer to twenty minutes when Obed finally allowed himself to slow to a jog, then a walk. His legs trembled with exhaustion, and his lungs burned with every breath.

Lucy stopped beside him, doubled over with her hands on her knees. When she straightened, her eyes were red and puffy, but the tears had stopped.

"Why are you still following me?" Obed asked, his voice rough.

Lucy stared at him for a long moment. Then she laughed, a bitter, broken sound.

"Where else would I go?" Her voice was hostile, sharp-edged with grief. "Back to Garrick? That sick bastard just murdered Fallow in cold blood."

She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, smearing the mascara even further.

"Johanna's dead. Fallow's dead. And I just watched both of them die in the span of five minutes." Her voice cracked. "So forgive me if I don't feel like being alone right now."

Obed snorted. He didn't like the idea of traveling with Lucy. She was impulsive, aggressive, and her judgment was questionable at best. But he also understood that in their current situation, numbers meant survival.

It was the best case scenario, even if it was far from ideal.

"Fine," he said. "But we do things my way. No arguments. No—"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Rustling.

It came from directly ahead of them, the sound of something moving through the underbrush. Something large, or perhaps multiple somethings.

Obed's hand went to his sword. Beside him, Lucy drew both of her blades, her body tensing into a combat stance despite her exhaustion. They both fell silent, listening, waiting.

The rustling grew louder.

Closer.

And then the leaves parted.

Two figures stumbled into view, their clothes torn and stained, their faces haggard with exhaustion.

Aisha and Geor.

For a moment, no one moved. They all simply stared at each other in mutual shock and disbelief.

Then Aisha's eyes landed on the unconscious form draped over Obed's shoulder, and all the color drained from her face.

"Nero!" Her voice broke on his name.

She rushed forward, tears already streaming down her face. Her hands reached out as if to touch him, to confirm he was real, but she stopped short, her fingers trembling in the air.

"What happened?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "What did you do to him?"

"It wasn't us," Obed said quickly. "It was Garrick. He—"

But Aisha wasn't listening. Her eyes had taken on that strange, dangerous light.

"Aisha." Geor's voice was firm as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Control yourself."

The glow flickered, wavered, and then slowly faded. Aisha's body sagged, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Is he alive?" she asked, her voice small and broken.

Obed shifted his weight, adjusting Nero's position so Aisha could see his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"He's alive," Obed confirmed. "But he's hurt. Badly. We need to find shelter and—"

A distant sound cut through the night.

Buzzing.

Faint, but unmistakable.

They all heard it. And they all understood what it meant.

"We need to move," Geor said. "Now. I'll fill you in later."

They turned as one and began moving deeper into Malady's Garden, away from the swarm, and away from the death and betrayal that had defined this terrible night.

Aisha walked beside Obed, her eyes never leaving Nero's unconscious face. Her hand hovered near his, wanting to touch, to reassure herself that he was truly there, but not quite daring to make contact.

Behind them, Lucy followed in silence, her face a mask of grief and exhaustion.

And everywhere in the ambient darkness, carried on wings that glowed with sickly green light, death continued its eternal hunt.

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