ScarlettI can’t stop shaking. Not on the outside. As far as everyone else is concerned I’m fine. Perfectly in control.No, the shudder is inside me. Quiet and coiled tight, like a snare trap under my ribs.It isn’t fear. It feels more like recognition.Whatever moved through the trees today wasn’t an animal. It wasn’t wildlife. It was a message wrapped in stillness. A warning whispered in silence.And when Erik said the eyes didn’t blink, that the thing didn’t even breathe, I knew it was watching me.Like it’s waiting for me to slip so it can move in. And gods help me, I think I already am.By nightfall the others fall into our usual routine. Fire, food, blades cleaned, salt wards laid in a broken ring.I go through the motions like I’m still in my own skin even though the flame crackling behind my ribs flickers icy-blue every few heartbeats.Every time it does, heat and chill surge together, leaving me feeling dizzy, hollow, full and off balance.Erik watches me the way a cliff watc
ErikThe cold comes all at once.Not from a drop in temperature. Not wind. Not even dew.Just a sensation. A bite.It slinks in behind my ribs and curls in my teeth like I just bit into snow that’s been sitting on a grave.I stop walking and Scarlett halts too, instinctively reaching for the dagger on her thigh.She doesn’t speak, but her eyes dart up toward mine, and I already know.She feels it too.Something's here.It’s not the usual forest weight. We’ve become used to that. The hush of watching eyes, the creak of trees adjusting in the breeze.This is deeper. Like the air’s gone thin and too thick at once. Like the space between us and whatever’s behind the trees is a heartbeat away from collapsing.“Don’t react,” I murmur.Scarlett’s voice is ice. “Eyes on the ridge?”“Three o’clock,” I say. “Between the black pine and that boulder that looks like a kneeling man.”“I see it,” she says, barely a breath.And I do too.Silver eyes.Not glowing. Not flashing. Just there.Reflective
IlsaI wake to the smell of blood.Not a scream. Not snapping branches. Just the sharp, metallic scent that hits me like a punch to the nose.I sit up instantly.My knife is already in my hand before I’m fully conscious, my heart pounding a silent war drum behind my ribs.The fire’s a slow smolder, barely more than embers now, and the forest is quiet. Not the good kind. Not the peace-before-dawn kind.The bad kind.The something-holding-its-breath kind.The others are still asleep. Scarlett and Erik curled together like flame and flint. Chris and Elliott tangled in the haphazard sprawl of lovers who don’t yet know they’re not alone.There’s no movement I can hear. No signs of a struggle that I can see.And yet the smell is overpowering in its intensity.That’s when I look down at my shoulder and find the origin of the scent.The fabric of my shirt is torn. Four long rips through the sleeve, frayed edges sticky with blood.The flesh underneath has barely been grazed, but unmistakably c
ChrisIt starts in my teeth.A low hum, like metal drawn across stone, like a war drum with no skin, only bone.It settles into my molars and echoes through my jaw. I stop mid-step and clamp a hand over my mouth, blinking through the fog.“What’s wrong?” Elliott asks immediately.I shake my head. “Nothing. Thought I bit down wrong.”He stares at me. “You’re not eating.”“Right.” I try to smile. “Maybe I just wanted some attention.”Elliott doesn’t laugh. He steps closer, brushing his arm against mine as we walk.The forest’s quiet again. No birds, no wind, just the pad of our boots on moss and the way our breathing syncs up without trying.Scarlett and Erik are up ahead, quiet in that intense, tangled way they get when things go sideways. Ilsa’s somewhere behind us, probably tracking ghosts again. I think she secretly loves all the shit happening around us.The hum hasn’t stopped.It shifts, dipping into my ribs, coiling beneath the skin at the base of my spine like a note too low for
ScarlettIt starts with a rustle that doesn’t sound like the wind.Not leaves. Not animal. Not the crack of something stepping where it shouldn’t.Laughter.Soft and familiar. Sharp-edged, like a blade gliding across silk.Loki’s laughter.I halt on the path, hand finding the hilt of my dagger even though steel means nothing to him.Not really. Not when he prefers to slither through shadows and secrets instead of stepping into the world the way the rest of us have to.Ahead, the others keep walking, completely oblivious. Erik and Chris lean over a map, heads bowed in friendly argument. Elliott bounces a pebble from palm to palm, reflexes like lightning. Ilsa stalks the tree-line, her nose lifted, restless and alert.None of them hear it.Only me.Because he wants me to.The path bends and funnels us beneath ancient pines.One trunk stands thicker than the rest, its bark almost silver in the thin morning light. Something about it shimmers. Like heat over stone, or breath fogging gla
Scarlett & ErikScarlettHe hasn’t told me like he promised to.I know something happened at the lake. I felt it in his heartbeat last night, wild and unsteady under my hand.I saw the ghost of it in his eyes this morning. Like something crawled in and is still coiled there, whispering to him.But he hasn’t said a word.And now he walks ahead of me like the forest isn’t watching, like the fog isn’t thicker than it was an hour ago, like I didn’t almost kill Elliott two days ago with fire that wasn’t mine.My magic still flickers wrong beneath my skin. It crackles blue when I’m not paying attention. I haven’t told him either.He won’t talk. And I’m not asking.But gods, I want to scream in frustration.ErikShe hasn’t looked at me properly since we left camp.Not since I turned away from that cursed water with its mirror mouth and promises of forever.I didn’t tell her. Not because I wanted to keep it secret, but because I don’t know how to say it.Scarlett, your magic has teeth. Your s