The bush path was not a road.
It was a wound carved through the forest by desperation — narrow, overgrown, and choked with thorns that tore at cloth and skin alike. Branches knitted themselves overhead, blotting out the sky until the world became green shadow and damp earth. The deeper they went, the more the forest seemed to press inward, as if resenting their passage.
Daniel moved first, silent and deliberate, pushing aside foliage without snapping a twig. The air here was heavy with rot and sap, every breath tasting faintly metallic. His instincts screamed — not in panic, but in warning.
Behind him, Eseren followed lightly, boots finding bark and root instead of ground. She moved differently now. More aware. More connected.
"This path hates us," she whispered.
"The forest doesn't hate," Daniel replied. "It remembers."
That was when the undergrowth moved.
Ambush Beneath the Canopy
The first beast burst from the ferns in a blur of muscle and bone — too fast, too quiet.
Daniel reacted instantly.
Two swords tore free from the invisible bind at his back.
One flashed silver, screaming as it cut the air, elegant and merciless.
The other emerged like a shadow given edge — black, warped, hungry.
The silver blade struck first, cleaving through the beast's neck in a violent arc. Blood exploded outward in a crimson fan, splattering Daniel's chest and face, warm and slick.
Before the droplets could fall—
The black sword pulled.
Blood reversed direction midair, dragged screaming back toward the blade as if reality itself had tilted. The sound was wrong — a low, wet suction, endless, consuming. The corpse collapsed into itself, drained hollow in seconds.
Eseren's breath hitched.
"That sword—"
"Don't look at it too long," Daniel said. "It listens."
The forest answered with a roar.
Creatures poured from the brush — wolf-things with split jaws, scaled crawlers that skittered along tree trunks, antlered horrors that moved on too many legs.
Daniel stepped forward, blood already dripping from his armor.
"Up," he said.
Eseren didn't hesitate.
She sprinted, leapt, and vanished into the branches as claws tore through the space she'd occupied.
Achor Unleashed
The world sharpened for Eseren.
She felt it again — the threads.
Invisible lines stretched from her chest, anchoring her to the trees, the beasts, Daniel's movements. Her heartbeat synced with the forest's rhythm, not fighting it — pinning it down.
She ran along a branch, jumped, twisted midair, and fired.
The arrow curved unnaturally, guided by anchor rather than aim. It struck a beast leaping for Daniel's blind side, pinning it screaming to a trunk.
Another arrow.
Another.
Eseren moved like wildfire through leaves — rebounding from trunks, sliding along bark, firing upside down, sideways, without ever stopping. Each jump anchored her momentum, each shot locked its target's fate in place for the briefest instant.
Below her, Daniel was a storm.
The silver sword danced — precise, merciless, severing limbs and heads in clean arcs. Blood sprayed constantly, coating him head to toe.
The black sword followed like a curse.
Every spray of blood was taken.
It devoured gore mid-splash, drank from open wounds, pulled crimson from corpses before they hit the ground. The forest floor grew slick, yet strangely clean where the blade passed.
"Left!" Eseren shouted.
Daniel didn't turn.
The silver blade answered, slicing through three beasts at once. The black blade plunged into the largest, drinking until the creature collapsed into a desiccated shell.
But the forest was endless.
And it was learning.
The Turning
A shriek split the canopy.
Something massive crashed down from above — a spined beast that had been waiting, camouflaged among branches. It slammed into Daniel, driving him into the ground hard enough to crater the earth.
Eseren screamed his name.
She jumped — too far, too fast.
Pain lanced through her chest as the anchor threads strained, burning hot, threatening to snap. She fired anyway.
The arrow struck true, piercing the beast's eye and anchoring it in place.
Daniel rose through the dust.
Blood streamed down his face, but his eyes were clear.
"Back," he commanded.
Too late.
A second beast leapt from below — fast, silent, cruel.
Eseren twisted, trying to evade—
Claws tore across her side.
She screamed as pain exploded through her ribs, her concentration shattering. The anchor threads snapped violently, rebounding through her body like whiplash.
She fell.
Daniel moved faster than thought.
The silver sword skewered the beast midair. The black sword followed, drinking until nothing remained but skin and bone.
Daniel caught Eseren as she hit the ground.
Blood soaked his arms — hers this time.
"Stay with me," he said, voice low, iron-hard.
"I… can still—" she tried.
"Don't," he ordered.
The forest roared again — more shapes closing in, drawn by blood and death.
Daniel looked up.
And made a decision.
Retreat
The swords returned to him in a flash of will.
Daniel lifted Eseren into his arms and ran.
Branches lashed his face. Thorns tore his cloak. Beasts gave chase, crashing through undergrowth, howling in rage.
Daniel didn't slow.
He burst from the forest edge into rising stone and broken slopes — the foothills of the mountains that guarded the capital's outer reach.
A narrow fissure yawned ahead — a cave half-hidden by rock and shadow.
Daniel dove inside just as claws scraped stone behind him.
Darkness swallowed them.
The Cave
The cave was cold, dry, and blessedly silent.
Daniel laid Eseren down gently, tearing cloth to bind her wound. Her breathing was shallow, her skin pale beneath the blood.
"I'm sorry," she whispered weakly. "I lost the anchor."
Daniel shook his head. "You held it longer than most ever could."
He pressed his palm to her wound, steady, grounding.
Outside, distant howls echoed — frustrated, denied.
Inside, the black sword hovered briefly, trembling, hungry.
Daniel looked at it.
"No," he said.
Reluctantly, it withdrew.
Eseren's eyes fluttered.
"Did we… win?"
Daniel glanced toward the cave mouth, then back to her.
"We survived," he said. "That's enough."
She smiled faintly before slipping into unconsciousness.
Daniel sat beside her through the long mountain night, blood drying on his armor, listening to the wind howl outside — knowing the capital lay ahead…
And that the forest had tasted them.
And would remember.