The path narrowed further the deeper they went, silvergrass giving way to darker undergrowth. The glow of Avalon dimmed—not vanishing, but retreating, as if the land itself were holding its breath.
The air grew heavier.
"We're nowhere near our destination," Pyn said without turning, as if answering a thought no one had voiced. "Not yet."
Rory sagged, the humidity sticking his tunic to his back. "Aw. I thought we were close."
Pyn glanced back, eyes sharp and unblinking. "Close is dangerous."
Lyra didn't like the shift in her tone—lighter on the surface, tighter beneath. Her gaze swept the ground. The earth was damp but firm, marked by long, shallow impressions that didn't belong to boots or paws. They were wide, smooth troughs that buffed the dirt into a dull sheen.
Something big had passed through recently.
Selene felt it, too. She couldn't explain how—only that the air pressed against her skin differently, tight and restless. High above, the forest canopy was a frantic tapestry of motion; insects clustered in the highest branches, their wings humming in a high-pitched, nervous vibrato. They refused to land.
"Pyn," Elise said quietly, falling into step beside her. "You said a giant boa lived ahead."
"Yes."
"And you're only warning us now?"
Pyn smiled, a thin, mirthless line. "Because now you're close enough for it to matter."
Rory swallowed hard, his throat clicking in the silence. "How giant is giant?"
Pyn held her hands apart. Then spread them wider. Then wider still, until her arms were fully extended.
"Double this. That's the head."
"Oh," Rory said faintly.
They moved with agonizing care after that. Every snapped dry leaf sounded like a thunderclap. Lyra subtly shifted Selene behind her, her knuckles white against the hilt of her sword. Shawn adjusted his shield, the leather straps creaking; Elise's eyes never stopped moving, scanning the vertical shadows of the trees for anything that might be a trunk—or a coil.
Then—the forest went silent.
The insect hum stopped mid-note. The wind died. The very smell of the woods changed, replaced by a thick, cloying scent of musk and wet earth.
Lyra raised her fist.
They froze.
A low hiss rolled through the trees. It wasn't a warning; it was a vibration felt in the marrow of their bones. Patient. Predatory.
The ground twenty feet ahead didn't just move; it rippled. A mass of dead leaves shifted as if a river were running beneath them.
"DOWN!" Lyra shouted.
The earth exploded.
The boa surged upward in a blur of green and silver scales, its massive body uncoiling with a sound like tearing silk. It didn't emerge all at once—it seemed to keep coming, an endless muscular cable thick as a tavern barrel. Its head was a nightmare of prehistoric angles, golden eyes locking instantly on a target.
Not Lyra.
Selene.
It struck with the speed of a released spring.
Lyra lunged, her heart jumping into her throat, but Pyn was a shadow in motion. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed Selene by the wrist and yanked her backward so hard the girl's feet left the ground. Pyn spun, hauling Selene bodily out of the strike's path just as the air whooped where she had been standing.
The jaws snapped shut with the sound of a heavy cellar door slamming.
"Move, moon-girl!" Pyn snapped, shoving Selene behind a fallen stone ridge. "Stay down. Stay alive!"
Selene hit the ground, the wind knocked from her lungs, but she scrambled into the crevice of the rock as the massive shadow loomed over her.
"Selene!" Lyra roared, stepping into the beast's peripheral vision to draw its fire.
The boa's response was a casual flick of its tail. The sheer mass of it caught Shawn's shield, the impact sounding like a hammer hitting an anvil. He was hurled backward, his boots skidding before he hit a tree with a bone-rattling crack. Elise rolled clear of the secondary sweep, her blade flashing in a silver arc as she slashed at the creature's flank.
The steel shrieked against the scales, throwing sparks. It didn't even leave a scratch.
"Hide's too thick!" Elise shouted, dodging a reflexive twitch of the beast's midsection.
Rory scrambled backward, tripping over roots, his eyes wide as dinner plates. "I don't like this place anymore! I really don't like it!"
The boa recoiled, its neck S-curving for a second strike—then it pivoted. It didn't strike; it flowed.
Before Lyra could reset her stance, a coil slammed into her legs like a falling log. She went down, and in an heartbeat, the world became a vice. The muscle was like warm, moving stone, squeezing the air from her lungs in a slow, rhythmic pulse.
She drove her blade down. The sword bit an inch, then stopped. The armor was too dense, the muscle beneath too deep.
She had a heartbeat to think as the pressure mounted, her ribs beginning to groan.
Scales like plate. Muscle like cable. I can't kill it from the outside.
The boa reared back, its hood expanding, its jaws unhinging to reveal a cavernous, pale-pink gullet and fangs dripping with clear, acrid venom. It lunged for her head.
Lyra didn't flinch. She leaned into the terror.
She shifted her grip, bracing the pommel against her hip for maximum leverage. As the yawning maw descended, she thrust upward.
Steel met soft tissue. The blade slid through the roof of the mouth—past the palate, into the unarmored brain matter above.
The boa didn't hiss; it let out a wet, gargling scream that vibrated through Lyra's entire body.
The pressure on her ribs vanished as the creature thrashed in agony. The coils fell away, whipping wildly and smashing nearby saplings into kindling.
"NOW!" Lyra gasped, coughing up the dust of the forest floor.
Shawn, recovered and fueled by pure adrenaline, charged. He didn't use his sword; he slammed the rim of his heavy shield into the side of the creature's skull, pinning the thrashing head to the dirt. Elise was there a second later, her daggers working like pistons, driving into the soft wound Lyra had opened.
The boa's tail whipped one last time, a desperate, dying reflex.
Rory—his hands shaking so hard he could barely hold his weapon—stumbled forward. With a cry that was half-sob and half-warrior's yell, he drove his shortsword straight into the creature's dinner-plate-sized golden eye.
The scream cut short.
The massive body gave one final, shuddering convulsion, the scales rattling like dry leaves, and then went slack. The weight of it settled into the earth with a heavy thud.
Silence rushed back in, heavier than before.
Selene was at Lyra's side instantly, her hands glowing with a soft, frantic light as she pressed them against Lyra's heaving chest. "You're hurt—m—"
"I'm alive," Lyra rasped, her voice a dry croak as she gripped Selene's wrist to steady her. "That's enough. You're shaking. Dont use your magic. Your hurt too. Stop."
Selene nods her head.
Pyn stood a few paces away, her chest heaving, wiping a spray of dark blood from her cheek. She flicked her blade clean with a practiced motion and sheathed it. Her eyes lingered on Selene for a fraction of a second—checking for tears, for blood—before her mask of indifference slid back into place.
"Well," Pyn said lightly, nudging the colossal, twitching snout with the toe of her boot. "That could've gone worse."
Lyra shot her a glare sharp enough to draw blood.
Pyn met it evenly, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. "You're welcome."
Selene looked between them, her gaze finally landing on the fallen titan. The scale of the world had just gotten much, much larger.