Everyone ran—no hesitation, no second thoughts. The dust lifted in thick clouds as the entire tribe disappeared into their homes, slamming doors, bolting windows, hiding like prey sensing the predator’s shadow.
But Kaya didn’t move.
Her body stood rooted, unmoving, as her eyes locked onto one particular vulture in the sky.
It was different.
Larger, slower, and terrifyingly still amid the circling wings above. One eye was scarred—an angry, jagged mark slashing down the side of its face—and yet that wasn’t what held her captive. It was the way it looked at her.
Direct. Unblinking. Ancient.
It was as if she was staring into the eyes of death itself.
A cold breath left her lips, and yet her feet wouldn’t budge. Her instincts screamed at her to run, to hide, to breathe—but she was frozen.
And the vulture... it moved.
No, it descended—slow and deliberate, a terrifying grace in its wings as it dropped from the sky. The villagers screamed from behind locked doors. Someone sobbed. Another prayed. The wind howled.
The enormous bird landed with a gust of wind strong enough to rattle the trees.
Then—it changed.
Right before Kaya’s eyes, the feathers receded, bones shifted, and wings folded into limbs. In a moment, where once stood a vulture... now stood a man.
Tall. Pale. Too still.
And he was looking directly at her.
Then—he smiled.
A slow, knowing smile. And from his lips came a voice she hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.
"You were hiding here?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm, almost fond.
Kaya’s breath hitched.
Veer.
The name echoed in her mind like a dropped blade. Her body trembled, not from fear—but from something colder. Something deeper.
He took a step forward.
"I tried so hard to find you," he continued, his voice softer now, almost gentle—as if this was a long-awaited reunion.
But just as he took another step, a massive stone—twice the size of a man’s head—hurtled toward him from the left with deadly force.
Kaya hadn’t moved.
She hadn’t even blinked.
But he noticed.
With a casual twist of his body, Veer lifted his fist and punched the incoming rock—shattering it into dust mid-air. The debris scattered like sand.
He let out a slow, irritated sigh and muttered, "This is why I hate snakes lingering nearby."
Hearing that, a cold voice sliced through the thick tension.
"The feeling is mutual."
The words came from the left—low, sharp, filled with quiet fury.
From the shadows, Vayu stood tall in his serpent form, silver scales glinting faintly under the gloomy sky. His tongue flicked once, then stilled. There was no need for more words.
Yes. It was Vayu who had thrown that stone. A massive one, enough to crush any ordinary man—and he had meant every ounce of force behind it.
Veer turned slowly, and the moment his eyes met Vayu’s, the air thickened with venomous silence.
Hatred.
No disguise, no mask—pure, burning hatred in both their eyes.
The anger blazing in both their eyes left Kaya stunned.
She had heard tales—how snakes and vultures were sworn enemies, like the world itself had birthed them just to be at war. But she had never witnessed such raw hatred with her own eyes. Not even in human form did they bother to hide it. It wasn’t just tension—it was primal. Visceral.
Vayu hissed, his tongue flicking out slightly as his golden eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing here, you fucking winged bastard?" he spat, his voice sharp, venomous.
Veer smirked in reply, a tilt of arrogance coating his words.
"I could ask you the same, you worthless worm."
Their gazes clashed like swords mid-air—burning, blazing. The air between them felt charged, like a storm waiting for the slightest spark to explode. Vayu had lost his usual cold calmness. Now, there was something lethal in his stillness, something that felt like he could freeze the very air if he willed it.
And then—suddenly, without a whisper of warning—
A hand clamped over Kaya’s mouth.
Before she could gasp or react, someone yanked her back into the shadows.
"Mmph!"
Kaya’s eyes widened as a hand clamped over her mouth from behind.
Without wasting a heartbeat, she grabbed the wrist with both hands, fingers digging into the skin. When she felt how firm and unrelenting the grip was, her instincts kicked in—sharp, unforgiving. She drove her nails into the flesh, hard enough to draw pain.
The person behind her let out a muffled groan—"Ah—!"—a sound clenched between teeth.
Kaya didn’t stop there. She raised her leg and slammed her heel down on his foot with brutal precision. Her shoes, though worn from all the travel, were still sturdy—leather-soled and steel-heeled at the back. A dull crack followed, and the figure behind her groaned again, this time weaker.
"Ouch..." The voice was hushed. Controlled. Almost... careful?
Kaya blinked.
That voice—
She slowly turned her head, expecting to see an enemy. But when her gaze met his—
Red eyes. Trembling lips. A familiar face contorted in pain.
"Cutie?" she mouthed more than spoke.
Before he could say a word, Kaya gritted her teeth and jabbed her elbow into his ribs while slapping the back of his hand.
His memory—or reflex—clicked. He quickly withdrew his hand, stepping back as if shocked by his own actions.
Kaya turned fully toward him, eyes narrowed like knives.
"I’ll kill you if you try that again," she growled low, her voice cold enough to freeze bone.
Cutie’s face went pale. His head jerked into a hurried nod as he stammered,
"N-No—I didn’t mean to—really, I just—"
His words trembled like a leaf in the wind.
Kaya sighed and thwacked him lightly on the head.
"Stop shuddering like a wet squirrel."
Cutie shut his mouth instantly.
After a few beats of silence, he mumbled, voice still small but steadier than before,
"I just... I did that because when voices go quiet, it usually means trouble. We should leave."
Kaya raised a brow, arms crossed.
"And how exactly do you know that?"