"Do you see that?" Thalanir whispered, gripping his bow.
Renkai squinted. "Light. Too soft for torches."
They crept closer, careful to stay low. The mist thinned just enough for them to see a clearing, and there—stepping carefully through the bushes—was a unicorn.
Its coat shone like silver moonlight, soft and otherworldly. The horn was long and slightly curved, glowing faintly like a living star. With each step, the grass beneath its hooves came alive, blooming with small pale flowers. The creature raised its head, alert, sensing everything around.
"By the spirits…" Serelyth breathed. "A moon-unicorn. They're rare. Sacred to old forests."
But the beauty of the moment shattered in an instant.
From the shadows around the clearing, figures emerged—dark armor, blood-etched runes, the same soldiers they'd been tracking.
"Of course," Renkai hissed. "They're after it."
