The Fire We Feed

The forest grew darker the deeper they ventured, every tree draped in shadows that twisted unnaturally in the dim light. A damp chill hung in the air, thick with the stench of rot and wet leaves. The silence was oppressive, as though the forest itself held its breath, waiting for something to happen. Even the wind seemed unwilling to stir the branches.

Taryn paused mid-step, her gaze narrowing as she scanned the path ahead. A prickle ran down her spine, setting her on edge. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.

Lucien, just a step behind her, gave the cursed chain a gentle tug. "You sense that too?"

She nodded once, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her dagger. "Something's watching us."

They pressed forward, their boots crunching softly on the damp forest floor. It wasn't long before the signs began to appear—subtle at first, but unmistakable. Blood soaked ground, seeping into the roots like ink. A dead deer lay near crumpled between the trees, its body mangled beyond recognition. 

Taryn crouched beside the carcass, her stomach knotting at the sight of jagged claw marks raked across the animal's flank. She ran her fingers along the wounds, noting the depth and irregularity. "This is wrong," she whispered.

Lucien's silver eyes gleamed in the dim light as he knelt beside her. "Not a clean kill."

"No," Taryn agreed grimly. "This was torn apart—more for sport than hunger."

The cursed chain rattled softly as Lucien shifted, his gaze sweeping the surrounding forest. "It's marking territory. And from the looks of it, we're in the middle of it."

Taryn rose to her feet, her jaw set tight. "Perfect."

As they moved deeper into the forest, more signs began to emerge—bloodied feathers scattered like grim confetti, deep claw marks gouged into tree trunks, and strange, jagged runes carved into the bark.

Lucien stopped beside one, running his fingertips along the rough grooves in the bark. His face darkened. "These aren't just scratches. They're wards."

"Wards?" Taryn echoed, unease prickling the back of her neck. "You mean magic?"

"Territorial markers," Lucien confirmed, his voice low. 

Taryn's stomach knotted, her gaze sweeping their surroundings. The oppressive silence pressed closer, and for a moment, she could have sworn the shadows were moving—shifting just out of sight.

The cursed chain gave a slight tug as Lucien moved beside her, the faint clink of metal the only sound in the suffocating stillness. Being this close to Lucien felt unnatural, but the cursed chain didn't care about personal boundaries. And, frustratingly, neither did Lucien.

"We need to stay sharp," Taryn murmured. "I don't think this is something we can outrun."

Lucien gave a humorless chuckle. "Not like we have a choice."

They trudged deeper, each movement was a reminder of their forced proximity—how they were bound to each other, like prisoners on the same chain. Every shift, every turn required silent negotiation to avoid tripping over roots or getting tangled in the undergrowth.

Taryn kept her dagger at the ready, every muscle tensed as if the forest itself might lunge at them. The runes on the trees seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight, their jagged shapes twisting the further she stared, as if mocking her for walking straight into danger.

Lucien's gaze swept the dark expanse of trees around them. "This thing isn't just stalking us," he murmured. "It knows exactly where we are."

Taryn's pulse pounded louder. "It's waiting," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It knows we can't slip away."

The cursed chain gave a subtle jerk as Lucien came to a halt beside her. His eyes glittered in the faint light, sharp with understanding—and something else.

"It's toying with us," Lucien muttered. "Watching us."

Taryn clenched her jaw. She hated how easily he saw it—how he could put into words the very thing gnawing at the back of her mind.

"We keep moving," she said, her voice steady but laced with tension. "It will catch us standing still."

They stepped carefully over thick roots and ducked beneath low branches. The forest felt alive—alive and hostile, as if every leaf and shadow had been placed there to slow them down. The scent of decay clung to the air, thick and rancid, like something long dead and festering just out of sight.

A distant rustle broke the heavy quiet, a sound too deliberate to be the wind. Taryn's hand shot to her dagger. She glanced at Lucien, her heart racing. 

Lucien's silver eyes gleamed, his gaze scanning the darkness. "We're not alone."

The bushes to their left shivered, the faint sound of something shifting just beyond their line of sight. Taryn's breath caught. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, a constant, frantic beat.

"We can't fight it if we don't see it coming," she whispered, shifting closer to Lucien without realizing it.

Lucien's voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the edge in it. "It's close."

The cursed chain rattled softly between them as they adjusted their stances—no longer two people forced to share space, but two wary allies preparing for what was coming. Taryn's instincts screamed at her to stay alert, to move fast, not stay bunched up. But the cursed chain kept them tethered close, their movements tangled in a delicate balance of frustration and necessity.

They stood back-to-back now, their weapons ready, every muscle tense with anticipation. The night pressed in like a weight, thick and unforgiving. Whatever was hunting them was out there—just waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Lucien's voice was steady, despite the tension in the air. "If it's as fast as I think it is—"

Taryn cut him off, her voice sharper than she intended. "Then we move together. No hesitation."

Lucien gave a slight nod, the hint of a grin flickering across his lips despite the danger. "Now you're speaking my language."

Taryn's heart pounded in her chest, the forest pressing closer with every breath. They weren't just walking into a monster's territory—they were trapped inside it, with no escape except forward.

The creature was near. She could feel it in her bones, lurking just beyond the next shadow.