The forest screamed behind him.
Snow erupted with every impact. Branches whipped past, clawing at Kael's coat as he sprinted through the darkness. The night sky was swallowed by clouds, and the moon's faint light flickered through the treetops like dying embers.
Something howled — a sound that scraped against bone and reason. Then another, and another, until the woods themselves seemed alive, filled with teeth and hunger.
Kael's boots slammed into the snow, each step measured, controlled. He didn't run in panic — he moved with purpose. Every leap, every turn, was deliberate. He ducked beneath a fallen tree, vaulted off a half-buried log, and spun around a trunk just as a Wendigo crashed into it from behind, splintering wood in a spray of ice and blood.
The creature's claws missed him by inches.
Kael pivoted midair, blade flashing silver.
The cut was so clean the Wendigo didn't realize it was dead until its body separated from its head. It crumpled, dissolving into a fine black mist that hissed where it touched the snow.
Kael landed in a crouch, eyes scanning the treeline. His breath fogged lightly in the cold air.
Too many of them.
Dozens.
The growls came from every direction — high-pitched, feral, guttural. They circled him like wolves testing prey. But Kael wasn't prey.
He adjusted his stance, one hand on the hilt of his blade, the other brushing snow from his cheek. His heartbeat was steady. Controlled. The faint sting in his shoulder — from an old wound — served only to sharpen his focus.
A shadow lunged from the left.
Kael sidestepped, blade whispering through flesh. Another came from above — he rolled forward, then turned, slicing upward in a clean arc that bisected the attacker midfall. Blood sprayed against his cheek.
They were fast, but reckless — animals driven by instinct.
"Predictable," he muttered.
He spun, catching another's wrist as it tried to claw him. He twisted, bones snapping audibly, then slammed the creature into the ground and drove his sword through its chest. Black ichor burst outward, staining the snow like spilled ink.
Then, the forest shifted.
Heavy footsteps thundered in the distance — slower, deliberate, commanding. The smaller Wendigos stopped moving. They hissed low, retreating into the shadows.
Kael looked up, eyes narrowing.
Three figures emerged between the trees, taller than the rest — humanoid, grotesquely stretched, antlers crowning their skulls like twisted thorns. Their pale flesh gleamed faintly under the dim light. Unlike the others, their eyes weren't feral blue — they were burning gold.
"Alphas," Kael breathed.
The three beasts spread out, forming a half-circle around him. The snow hissed beneath their claws. Their presence alone made the air colder.
"Three of you," Kael said quietly, raising his sword. "Guess the night just got interesting."
One of them tilted its head, as if curious. Then all three roared and charged.
---
The first reached him in seconds — Kael ducked low, the creature's claw slicing through the air where his head had been. He moved inside its guard, his sword flashing once — twice — before he spun around it. The Wendigo froze mid-step, then fell to its knees, body sliding apart into three clean pieces.
The second lunged from behind. Kael pivoted, catching its arm with his free hand and yanking it forward, driving his blade under its ribs. The creature screamed, black vapor spilling from its mouth, before Kael kicked it backward into a tree with such force the trunk cracked in two.
The third was faster — far more deliberate than the others. It didn't rush blindly. It watched him, breath misting in the air, golden eyes glowing like embers. The creature circled, mimicking his movements — intelligent, cautious.
Kael's lips curved faintly. "Learning, are we?"
It growled in response — low and guttural — then blurred forward.
The speed caught him by surprise.
Claws slashed across his coat, tearing through fabric and grazing his arm. Kael gritted his teeth, spinning away and planting his boots firmly in the snow. The Wendigo came again, relentless — claws, teeth, speed like a thunderclap.
Kael deflected the first blow with the flat of his blade, ducked under the next, and twisted away from the third. He countered with a thrust aimed for its throat, but the creature leapt backward — narrowly avoiding the strike.
The air between them steamed with heat from the clash.
Kael exhaled slowly, feeling the throb in his arm. Blood dripped onto the snow — bright against the white. The Wendigo stared at the wound and grinned with jagged teeth.
"So you can bleed," it rasped. The voice was warped, broken, as if forced through torn vocal cords.
Kael's eyes hardened.
"So can you."
He shifted his grip, lowering his stance. The wind howled through the trees — and in that same breath, Kael disappeared.
The creature's golden eyes widened.
A faint whisper of displaced air behind it — then pain.
Kael's blade erupted through its chest, gleaming silver against the blackness. He twisted once and withdrew, spinning away before the body collapsed. The Wendigo staggered, still reaching for him, before dissolving into shadow and ash.
Silence fell.
---
Kael stood still for a long moment, listening.
The forest, once full of screams, was now eerily quiet. The only sound was the wind sifting through snow and the slow, steady beat of his heart. Around him, the corpses of Wendigos smoldered faintly, their essence fading into the cold.
He cleaned his blade on a torn scrap of fabric, watching the black residue stain it. The air was heavier here, as though soaked in something wrong.
Kael crouched beside one of the fallen Alphas, tilting its body with a gloved hand. Something caught his eye — a burn mark, etched deep into the Wendigo's chest. A sigil. Circular, intersected with lines that pulsed faintly red.
It wasn't random. It was deliberate — carved or branded.
He ran his fingers across it, feeling the heat that still lingered beneath the skin. The edges pulsed faintly, almost reacting to his touch.
"Not natural…" he murmured.
He looked up, scanning the treeline again. The sigil reminded him of the markings they'd seen in the old Ravenwood tunnels — the same twisted symmetry.
Someone had made these things. Or worse — was controlling them.
A whisper of movement flickered in the distance. Kael rose instantly, blade half-drawn. But it wasn't another Wendigo. The snow shifted — too deliberate to be mere wind. A faint rhythm, like footsteps, echoed faintly between the trees.
Kael's grip tightened.
"Show yourself," he said quietly.
Nothing answered. The forest gave only silence.
But the feeling didn't fade. It pressed against him — a presence, heavy and watchful, like eyes in the dark.
He sheathed his blade and started forward, senses sharp. The snow deepened with every step. The deeper he went, the quieter everything became — as though sound itself feared to exist here.
More bodies appeared, half-buried in frost. Old ones — some human. Corpses in hunter uniforms, faces frozen mid-scream. The insignias were torn, but he recognized the pattern.
Alpha Squad.
Kael knelt beside one, brushing snow from its chest plate. Deep claw marks had torn through armor and bone alike. No signs of struggle beyond that — as if they hadn't even had time to react.
He exhaled slowly. "So this is where you vanished."
A broken communicator blinked weakly in the snow beside the corpse. Static crackled faintly when Kael lifted it. A fragment of a voice came through — barely audible.
"—darkness… can't see… they're listening—"
The signal died. Kael dropped the unit into his pouch and rose again.
A gust of wind tore through the clearing, howling between the trees like a scream. The snow swirled violently for a moment — then settled. And in that silence, he heard it again. Faint. Distant.
A whisper.
One word, barely audible, threading through the dark.
"Child…"
He froze, every muscle coiling.
It wasn't a hallucination. The voice was too clear, too human.
He turned toward the sound — deep in the woods, past the ridge. The air was colder in that direction, heavier with the scent of blood and decay.
Kael's expression hardened.
He drew his sword again, the metal glinting dully in the dark, and stepped forward. The snow creaked beneath his boots as he moved — slow, silent, deliberate.
Each step felt like walking deeper into something ancient — something that watched and waited. The forest no longer looked like a place at all, but a graveyard of frost and bone.
Behind him, the ash of the slain Wendigos drifted upward, carried by the wind, forming brief, ghostly shapes before scattering into nothing.
---
Minutes passed.
No more attacks came.
Kael finally stopped in a small clearing, the trees thinning just enough for faint moonlight to spill through. The ground here was uneven — torn by claw marks, blood pooled and frozen into black ice.
In the center lay another body — not a Wendigo this time, but a hunter. The armor was newer. The insignia still visible.
He crouched. The man's eyes were open, lips parted as if mid-word. There was a sigil burned into his chest — the same one as the Wendigos. But this time it was cleaner, neater, freshly carved. And it pulsed faintly, like it was still alive.
Kael's hand hovered above it. The faint warmth made his skin prickle. His instincts screamed to step back, to not touch it.
Before he could decide, the sigil flickered — glowing bright red for half a second — then went dark.
Kael stood, every sense on edge.
A warning. A trap. Or a message.
He looked toward the far side of the clearing, where the trees thickened again. The whisper came once more, low and mocking.
"Keep coming, hunter."
Kael exhaled once, calm and deliberate. He adjusted his grip on the hilt, letting the silence stretch.
"If you insist."
And without hesitation, he walked into the darkness.