The forest slept under a curtain of shadows, its towering trees swaying in silence. A river cut through the stillness, its current whispering as though carrying secrets downstream. Overhead, a haze of purple-like fog drifted low to the earth, glowing faintly against the moonlight. The air was damp, heavy, almost suffocating, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

Near the water’s edge knelt Miko. Her ears twitched faintly, sharper than a human’s, and her eyes glimmered with an unnatural sheen in the dim glow. The surface of the river rippled not from wind, but from her touch. She whispered under her breath, fingers drawing circles in the air, and the water obeyed—coiling upward into sharp, crystalline forms. Ice arrows glistened in her grasp, fragile yet deadly, catching what little light filtered through the fog.

From the shadows beyond the treeline, another figure watched. His steps were soundless, his posture unhurried. Calm eyes followed her movements as though studying a pattern he already understood. He had been tracking her for some time, slipping from trunk to trunk, his presence masked by the thick veil of fog.

The girl’s ears twitched again. She froze, hand hovering above the water, ice arrows half-formed. Her head snapped toward the trees. “Who’s there?” Miko’s voice was low, edged with suspicion, carrying the growl of someone who had long since learned not to trust.

From the darkness, Miko saw the man emerge—not rushed, not cautious, simply composed. His expression was unreadable, the kind that could belong to friend or enemy. Maybe both.

Miko narrowed her eyes, raising one of the arrows like a blade. “Stay back. I said stay back!”