The snowstorm had finally subsided by dawn, leaving the forest draped in a suffocating silence. Zara crouched near the edge of their makeshift camp, her sharp gaze sweeping over the battlefield from the night before. Blood stained the snow in wide arcs, already darkened by frost. Her fingers brushed against the hilt of her knife, still slick from the fight.
Davis approached, shivering beneath his jacket. "Tracks lead west," he reported. "The survivor made it out, just like you said."
Zara nodded without looking at him. "He's going back to the King's outpost."
"To bait them." She stood, brushing the snow from her knees. "The King won't retreat; he'll retaliate. And this time, he'll send something worse."
Davis blanched. "The Reapers?"
Zara's silence was her answer.
The Reapers—elite enforcers, brutal and methodical—were the King's prized hounds, sent only to crush those deemed a real threat. Zara knew this because she'd once trained alongside them, long before the world crumbled into ruin. Her lips tightened as she thought of the monster who ruled what remained of civilization, his reach stretching like a disease.
"Get everyone ready," she ordered Davis. "We're moving at dusk."
Hours later, the forest seemed alive with tension as Zara led her group westward. They were silent but exhausted, every crunch of snow beneath their boots unnervingly loud. The trees loomed taller here, their twisted, blackened limbs like gnarled claws reaching for the sky.
"Something's not right," Liv whispered, falling in step beside Zara.
Zara paused, her senses sharpening. The air had changed. Cold and still, yet charged—an unnatural quiet. She motioned for the group to stop. Liv knelt next to her, scanning the woods through her scope.
"There." Liv's voice trembled. "On the ridge."
Zara looked and froze. Against the white horizon, dark figures emerged—silent, methodical, and deliberate.
The Reapers had arrived.
"Down!" Zara shouted, but the first shot cracked through the air before her words finished. A man in the group fell, his scream lost to the snowstorm. The others scattered as Zara's mind kicked into overdrive.
"Fallback! Use the trees for cover!" she barked. She dove behind an icy boulder, her pulse steady despite the chaos unfolding. Liv slid in beside her, reloading her rifle with shaking hands.
"There's too many," Liv muttered.
"Doesn't matter," Zara growled. "We hold them here. If we run, we're dead."
She drew her pistol, waited for the faint glint of a Reaper's mask through the trees, and fired. The shot struck true, dropping the figure into the snow. Another moved in to take his place, swift and deadly. Zara could see now—these weren't ordinary soldiers. They were hunting her, specifically.
The King's message was clear.
Her heart pounded, but her voice was steel when she spoke. "Liv, listen to me. You'll take the others east. I'll hold them here."
Zara rose, her crimson sweater stark against the white, and ran toward the oncoming Reapers.