The forest whispered of intrusion long before he arrived. The winds carried it—the sharp scent of iron and steel, the deliberate silence of a man trained to stalk his prey. My pack stirred uneasily in the shadows, their ears twitching, their claws scraping against stone as instinct begged them to flee. But I stilled them with a single glance. This was my burden.

From the heart of the compound, I felt him crossing the threshold. The earth here was alive with my essence, the crystals blooming like veins of blood from the soil, pulsing faintly with the energy I could never fully contain. Each shard hummed at his presence, echoing the question I already knew the answer to: Hunter.

I rose, crimson armor catching the dim light as the air grew heavy around me. My nine tails curled and unfurled behind me, swaying like a storm held barely in check. The weight of my power pressed through the chamber, daring him to falter, to reveal the fear he carried in his heart. Yet when I saw him step into the open, blade in hand, there was no fear. Only resolve.

And resolve was dangerous.

My gaze locked onto his, and for the briefest moment, the world seemed to still. His eyes did not see me as the villagers spoke of me—monster, temptress, demon. Instead, they met mine with a strange clarity, as if he searched for something more than blood.

I spoke first, because silence was surrender. “You do not belong here, hunter.”

The words fell sharp, but inside, my heart was not so steady. For beneath my defiance lingered the gnawing truth: he was a threat to my pack, my family, and yet something in him pulled at the edges of my restraint. I could end him now, with a flick of my claws, a surge of flame from the crystals at my command. But the question seared hotter than any fire I wielded—would I?

My tails bristled, spreading wide in warning, and yet I did not strike. I held his gaze, searching him, testing him, as though the forest itself demanded I decide: enemy, or... something else?

The tension coiled tighter, like a bowstring pulled to its breaking point. He raised his blade higher, though I could see the hesitation in the way his grip shifted, the faint tremor in his stance. He was here to kill me, yet not sure if he could.

And I, for the first time in too long, was not sure if I wanted him to try.