Moonlight clung to the treetops like pale fire, and the clearing below held its breath. Falcon’s boots carved backward through the soil as he dodged, heartbeat rising like thunder in his ribs. He had never seen a thing like this; he had never even imagined it. Murder Dog lunged again, his bare feet silent, his movements too smooth for something so monstrous. The skull that served as his face caught the moonlight, hollow eyes gleaming with a hunger that was not human.
Falcon’s ring pulsed. The orange glow flickered in time with his fear, brightening each time he lifted his fist. He could feel it, like a second heartbeat, like something ancient inside him had woken up just to witness this moment. The forest bent around them, branches twisting like they were afraid to get too close.
Murder Dog’s blade cut the air where Falcon had been only a breath before. He stumbled, stepped wide, barely caught himself. His throat felt tight, his voice locked behind terror, but he managed to raise his hand. The ring’s glow crawled up his forearm like fire made of memory.
“Who are you?” Falcon asked, but the question fell flat, swallowed by fog. Murder Dog offered no answer. The red hair that hung around his skull swayed like bloodied strands of a nightmare, and his chest rose and fell with the quiet rage of an animal denied its meal. Then he moved again—fast, impossibly fast—and Falcon felt the air break beside him. The blade never touched, but he felt its promise.
Somewhere behind him in the trees, a branch snapped. Perhaps the forest wanted to run. Perhaps it prayed. Falcon planted his feet. He did not know how to fight someone like this. He barely knew how to fight at all. But he knew how to survive. And the ring, warm now, seemed to whisper that surviving was enough. For now.
Falcon’s stance changed. His breath steadied. Murder Dog halted mid-stride, skull angled, sensing the shift. They faced each other as the fog thickened, as the moon hid behind thin clouds, as the world trembled on the edge of whatever came next. Falcon’s fist rose, ring flaring.
The first chapter of fear was ending.
And the night, impossibly dark and wide, opened its mouth to begin another.