[Mooncore Alert: Danger Incoming.]
The voice rang in her head just as the wind shifted.
Eleanor froze, eyes narrowing.
A strange heat crackled through the air—a sharp whistling sound sliced the quiet like a blade.
A fireball tore through the trees.
She didn't think.
She moved.
In a blink, Eleanor dashed sideways, her body blurring as her feet scraped against earth and scattered leaves. The flames roared past her shoulder, smashing into a tree and bursting into a violent wave of heat and smoke.
Behind her, Aedric grabbed her arm and yanked her behind a thick oak.
The bark scraped her arms as they pressed tightly together.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. She could feel Aedric's breath close to her face—hot and steady, despite the chaos.
He whispered, low and intense, "Stay here."
But Eleanor's palm buzzed with power. Sparks curled around her wrist. Stormbite answered her call—electric blue threads twining around her fingers.
She lifted her chin.
"I have Stormbite," she said softly.
Aedric didn't argue. His body shifted beside hers. His irises darkened—deep crimson red. His claws slid out with a soft snout. Fangs glinted under his lip.
They stepped forward together.
Another fireball whizzed past, striking the dirt just behind them. The ground exploded upward in a storm of dust and flame.
Wood chips and ash rained over their shoulders.
Then another, crashing from above, cutting through old tree limbs before landing with a shudder that rippled through the earth.
Eleanor's dress caught a tiny ember and burned at the hem. She stamped it out without blinking.
She looked up.
The forest was half-light, half-shadow. Fire glowed through the trees, bathing everything in an eerie gold.
That's when they saw them.
Two figures stepped out of the dark.
Identical boys—red hair, young faces, maybe sixteen or seventeen. But there was nothing innocent in their eyes.
The one on the left had darker red curls, almost like dried blood.
Both had fireballs dancing in their palms.
"Which one of you is Daria of House Orrin?" the darker one asked, voice calm, too calm.
Eleanor's fingers tightened around the invisible hilt of Stormbite.
Aedric chuckled under his breath. "Looks like they're here for you, fake Daria."
She rolled her eyes. "Why does everyone want Daria dead?"
Before she got an answer, the darker twin hurled his fireball.
Eleanor's eyes widened—but she didn't flinch.
She lifted her hand.
Telekinesis flared from her palm. The fireball veered mid-air and blasted sideways, crashing into a fallen log and sending flaming splinters everywhere.
"I'll take one. You take the other," she told Aedric.
He nodded, baring his fangs. "Let's dance."
They split.
The twins didn't wait. More fireballs shot from their hands. The air smelled of scorched pine.
Eleanor ducked behind a thick tree as flame singed the edges of her hair. Her heart pounded in rhythm with the crackle of burning leaves.
The twin she faced grinned and called, "You can't dodge forever, Daria. There's a reward for your head."
She didn't answer.
She waited.
Watched.
She needed a window—an opening.
"Time's up!" he shouted.
He formed a swirling fireball the size of a boulder and hurled it.
Eleanor stood her ground.
Stormbite flared—her lightning shot forward and wrapped the fireball in a cocoon of blue sparks.
It changed.
The yellow flames turned blue.
And she grinned.
"Wrong move," she said, then spun, using her speed to hurl the fireball back at him—faster, sharper, stronger.
It struck him in the chest.
He flew backward, hitting a tree with a thud and sliding to the ground.
A few feet away, the other twin who was locked in a claw-to-fist battle with Aedric suddenly gasped—his body jolted and fell like a puppet with cut strings.
Both boys lay still.
Eleanor and Aedric stood, panting.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Eleanor stepped forward, gaze locked on the twin who was gasping for air, barely alive. She raised Stormbite and pointed it at his throat.
He coughed, trembling, his eyes wide with fear.
She didn't say anything.
Just watched.
The blue glow of her blade reflected in his eyes.
She raised her arm to strike.
Then Brina's voice echoed in her head—"She's the one who deserved a second chance—not a ruthless killer like you."
Her hand stopped.
Stormbite flickered.
Her face changed.
She stepped back.
The boy exhaled in relief—but only for a second.
A blur of movement.
Aedric appeared beside her.
In a flash, his clawed hand punched through the boy's chest.
The scream was short.
Blood spilled. His body jerked—then stilled.
Eleanor's eyes widened in horror.
"Aedric!" she shouted.
He stood, his chest rising and falling, dark red eyes glowing. The energy from the kill flowed through him, crackling over his skin.
It was like watching someone drink lightning.
"So that's how you do it," she whispered. "You have super speed because you absorb powers... just like you did with Theron."
He turned to her.
His fangs retracted slowly. "Yeah… absorbing powers kinda is my power."
She tilted her head. "Then why do I feel like you have another one too?"
He looked confused.
"Which one?"
She narrowed her eyes.
Never mind.
She didn't trust him—not yet.
But her curiosity burned.
He was hiding something.
Aedric glanced at the dead twin. "Who the hell were they?"
Eleanor looked away. "They're after Daria's life, not mine."
"Well," he muttered, "they succeeded. Daria's dead, and you're wearing her face. Maybe if you changed it, they'd stop coming."
"I wish I could," she whispered. "But it's not up to me."
He tilted his head, studying her, but said nothing.
The sky was dark now. The fire had faded to embers.
Silence returned to the forest.
Then Aedric looked up. "The sun's down. Do you think the vampire will come now?"
Eleanor's face hardened. "No. Vampires hunt when they're hungry. When they're ready to feed."
She stared into the dark.
"And when they do… they kill the first living thing they see."
"So how do we catch it?" Aedric asked.
She glanced at him.
"We wait for its next hunt."
They worked in silence for the next hour.
They dug shallow graves in the soil and dragged the bodies—careful, even with their enemies.
Eleanor wiped sweat from her brow. Her arms ached. The flames from earlier had faded, leaving behind smoke and ash.
When they placed the final body in the ground, she hesitated.
The boy's face was young.
Still.
Lifeless.
She stepped back.
Aedric covered the grave without speaking.
She watched him.
He was fast. Too fast. Not just a regular wolf. He didn't shift fully, yet his claws and speed were terrifying.
She wondered who he really was.
What he was hiding.
Across the woods, something shifted.
A dark figure leaned behind a tree, far off—watching.
Elyndra's eyes burned with frustration.
She had followed the twins, knowing they were hired by the black aura's will.
Now they were dead. Again.
The fake Daria had survived.
Again.
She clenched her fists.
"What kind of power do you have?" she whispered through clenched teeth.
From the shadows, her eyes fixed on Eleanor and Aedric—watching as they buried the twins.
Her expression was not sorrow.
It was rage.
Pure, bitter rage.