We were running.

Not tactically retreating.

Not repositioning.

Running.

The kind of running where your lungs burn, your legs scream, and your brain is too busy listing regrets to bother asking questions.

Kent was slung over my shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

A very heavy, steel-skinned sack of potatoes.

Each of his breaths came out in a low, wet rasp against the back of my neck, his arms hanging limp, legs bouncing awkwardly against my ribs with every stride. If he'd been conscious, he would've complained about the indignity. Loudly.

I almost wished he was.

Nora ran beside me, boots barely touching the ground, white coat streaming behind her like a banner torn loose from a battlefield. Her breathing was steady. Controlled. Infuriatingly calm, considering what we were running from.

Ice crunched beneath our feet as the ruined landscape blurred past. Shattered pillars. Melted plains. Craters still steaming faintly where reality had been violated moments ago.

I risked a glance over my shoulder.

Nothing yet.

Which somehow made it worse.

"So," I panted, adjusting my grip on Kent as his weight shifted. "Just so we're clear."

Nora didn't slow. "If you're about to ask something stupid, don't."

"I fought a skyscraper-sized ice nightmare," I continued anyway, lungs burning. "It tried to kill us approximately twelve different ways. It shrugged off space distortion. It tanked flames hotter than the sun."

She sighed.

Deeply.

"For the final time," she said, tone flat, resigned, "yes, Sebastian. It was a baby."

I nearly tripped.

"A baby," I repeated.

"Yes."

"A newborn."

"Yes."

"The thing that nearly erased us from existence."

"Yes."

She shot me a sideways glance. "You're very lucky."

I barked out a breathless laugh. "Lucky. Right. Because fighting an infant god-monster is everyone's idea of a good afternoon."

"They're called Jötunn," Nora said. "And they are the apex of monster existence."

That word settled into my chest like a stone.

Apex.

She kept talking, because of course she did. "Born fully formed. Fully dangerous. They don't grow weaker. They grow worse. More attuned. More intelligent. More connected. And much, much stronger."

"Connected to what?" I asked.

"Everything."

I grimaced. "Fantastic."

She glanced back briefly, eyes sharp. "If that one had been even a year older, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"That's comforting," I muttered. "In a deeply horrifying way."

We sprinted through dense forest now, trees towering overhead like ancient pillars. Leaves the size of shields brushed against my face as we passed, branches snapping under the force of our movement. The air was cold. Too cold. Every breath scraped my throat.

"Why," I said between gasps, "did we start running immediately after I healed Kent?"

Nora didn't answer right away.

That was never a good sign.

"All Jötunn," she said finally, "share a spiritual connection."

I frowned. "Like… family?"

"Like a network," she corrected. "They feel each other. Birth. Pain. Death."

Oh.

I swallowed.

"When you killed that one," she continued, "every other Jötunn within range felt it."

"How big is 'within range'?" I asked cautiously.

She didn't look at me this time.

"Large."

My mouth went dry.

"So," I said weakly, "what you're telling me is—"

"Yes."

"We just rang the dinner bell."

"Yes."

I huffed out a humorless laugh. "Great. Just great. So not only are we being hunted by that freaky abomination that threw us into this place—"

"Entity," Nora corrected automatically.

"But also by the apex predators of literally any food chain," I finished. "Wonderful. Love that for us."

I shook my head as we ran. "Absolutely stellar luck."

She glanced at me again, brow furrowing slightly. "You realize I can hear you."

"I was hoping you'd tell me I was wrong," I said.

She didn't.

Instead, after a few strides of silence, she said, "Oh. I forgot to mention something."

I looked at her. "That's never good."

"Before I came to you," she continued calmly, "I climbed a tree."

Despite everything, my interest piqued. Nora climbing a tree was not something I thought I would hear. "Okay."

"A very tall one."

I gestured with my head for her to continue, focusing on not dropping Kent or faceplanting into a root thick enough to qualify as architecture.

"I needed perspective," she said. "Orientation. Landmarks. Anything."

"And?"

"And all I saw," she continued, voice tight, "were trees."

I frowned. "We're in a forest, so that's normal."

"In every direction," she said. "As far as I could see."

I slowed slightly.

"The scale," she went on, "was wrong. The canopy stretched beyond the horizon. No rivers. No mountains. No structures. Just… green."

That knot in my chest tightened.

"I estimated the visible distance," she said. "Compared it to known landmarks. Human domains. Borders."

I swallowed.

"And?"

Her jaw clenched. "This forest is larger than the Velkaris Empire."

That made my steps falter.

The Velkaris Empire wasn't just big.

It was continental.

"There are forests within the continent," she said. "Several. But none of them are this vast. The largest forest in known territory is the Verdant Domain."

I winced. "The elves."

"The damned elves," she agreed. "And even their domain doesn't come close to this."

She exhaled slowly. "Which means wherever we are… it's not within any habitable region of the continent."

The forest around us seemed to lean in at that.

I stared ahead, mind racing.

"So," she said, glancing at me sidelong, "do you know where we are?"

She didn't expect an answer.

I could tell.

It was the kind of question you ask because silence feels worse than ignorance.

I opened my mouth.

"Yes," I said.

She stopped dead.

I stopped too, nearly pitching Kent off my shoulders as inertia caught up with us. The forest fell silent around us, broken only by the distant crack of ice somewhere far behind.

Nora turned slowly.

Really looked at me.

"You… what?" she asked.

"I know where we are," I repeated.

Her eyes widened, just a fraction.

"You're certain?"

I nodded.

Her expression shifted rapidly, skepticism, disbelief, calculation, all warring across her face.

"This place," I said quietly, adjusting my grip on Kent, "isn't on any modern map."

She took a step closer. "Sebastian."

"But it is in the records," I continued. "The old ones. The ones people stopped believing."

Her voice dropped. "Say it."

I inhaled.

The forest seemed to hold its breath with us.

And I opened my mouth to tell her exactly where we were.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.