Chapter Five: The Hollow-Eyed Hunter
The forest had changed.
Elara could feel it the second she stepped beneath the canopy of ancient trees. The air was heavier now, denser, humming faintly like it held a breath too long. Sunlight barely broke through the branches, and when it did, the light looked wrong—too sharp, too cold.
Kairo walked beside her in silence, barefoot as always, his eyes scanning the trees like they were speaking to him. His horns caught the occasional beam of light, reflecting a soft, silvery sheen. He seemed more tense than usual, his posture tight, muscles coiled like a bowstring.
"Elara," he said suddenly, stopping. "Don't speak unless I tell you to."
Her heart fluttered. "Why?"
He didn't look at her. "Because we're not alone."
Elara turned, eyes darting across the forest, but she saw nothing—just trees and moss and a low mist curling at the forest floor.
Until she saw the footprints.
Large, clawed, and deep—far deeper than a human foot could sink into soft ground. They formed a circle around the weeping willow, which looked even more twisted than she remembered. Its trunk bulged unnaturally, like it had swallowed something and couldn't quite digest it.
"Something was here," she whispered, breaking his rule.
"I know." Kairo's voice was tight. "And it's still near."
He knelt beside one of the claw marks, fingers grazing the edge. "The Veil is tearing," he muttered. "What you did… it called to things sleeping far beyond this world. They're curious. And one of them crossed through."
Elara took a shaky step back. "What kind of thing?"
A low growl answered her.
It came from the shadows behind the willow.
Kairo grabbed her wrist and shoved her behind him just as something stepped into view.
It was tall—almost seven feet—and wrong in every possible way. Its limbs were too long, joints bending slightly backward. Its skin was the color of ash, slick and stretched tight over sharp bones. Its face was featureless—no mouth, no nose—just two enormous eyes, black and hollow, sucking in light like a void.
It didn't move at first. Just stared at them.
Then it tilted its head.
"Elara," Kairo murmured, "don't move."
"What is it?" she whispered.
"A Hollow-Eyed Hunter," he said. "One of the oldest predators from the space between worlds."
The creature took a slow step forward. Then another.
Kairo's eyes flared violet. "It's hunting your magic. It can smell the bond between us."
"What do I do?"
"Trust me."
He stepped forward and raised a hand, palm outward. A circle of violet light bloomed in the air between them and the creature, shimmering like glass under moonlight.
But the Hunter didn't flinch.
It shrieked—high, sharp, and wrong—then charged.
Kairo's shield exploded into fragments as the beast hit it. He staggered, falling to one knee.
Elara's instincts screamed at her to run—but instead, she did something she hadn't done since casting the spell:
She reached for the magic.
It wasn't a spell this time. Not words from the book. It was her—raw, aching, desperate. A burst of silver light shot from her hands, striking the Hunter's chest.
It screamed again, real pain this time, and stumbled backward. Smoke curled from where her magic had touched it.
Kairo stared at her, wide-eyed. "You felt that?"
"I didn't think. I just—did it."
The Hunter shrieked once more, backing into the mist. It didn't vanish. It didn't die. But it retreated.
For now.
When it was gone, Elara collapsed to her knees, breath coming in gasps.
Kairo knelt beside her. "You shouldn't have been able to do that yet. Your power's accelerating."
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because we're connected," he said softly. "You pulled me through the Veil… and now, I think you're part of it too."
They both looked up at the twisted willow tree, its branches now dripping black sap like blood.
The forest was no longer just a hiding place.
It was becoming a battlefield.
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