Heathen

The relentless patter of rain was a constant companion in the dense Rytarian forest, a soft murmur that Elodie had come to associate with her desperate flight.

Her legs burned, muscles screaming in protest, but fear was a relentless whip, lashing her forward through the undergrowth. Hours had passed since she'd fled the palace, since Locanas’s suffocating presence had pushed her past her breaking point.

She stumbled, a cry escaping her lips as her ankle twisted beneath her. She fell, a pathetic heap against the damp earth, tears mingling with the rain on her face. Her arm, scraped raw from a tree branch, throbbed with a dull ache, but it was the image of Locanas’s intense, unyielding gaze that truly paralyzed her.

She crawled, seeking refuge in the shallow alcove of a massive tree root, shivering uncontrollably. The forest was an endless, terrifying expanse, and she was utterly alone, save for the phantom echo of her pursuer's heavy boots.