CHAPTER 7: THE BEGINNING OF THE END

 Raven bolted through the window, his breath ragged as he hit the ground running. But his escape was already compromised—the hunter had spotted him from a nearby tree, eyes locked on his prey. The chase was on.

 Despite the torrent of rain pounding the earth, Raven's senses were heightened. He could feel the presence of someone—something—relentlessly closing in on him. His instincts screamed danger. Without hesitation, he pushed himself to run faster, the sky above roiling with thunder as the downpour grew heavier.

His pursuer was swift and skilled, leaping from the trees with inhuman agility. In an instant, the figure closed the gap, launching from above and delivering a brutal kick to Raven's back. He crashed into the wet earth, his head slamming against a tree. Stars danced in his vision, but his survival instincts kicked in—he scrambled to his feet and resumed his flight. Raven was no stranger to combat, but facing this relentless foe was out of the question. If he stopped, if he hesitated, death would be his only companion.

 Desperation clawed at him as he ran, eyes scanning the murky forest for anything that might offer refuge—a cave, a thicket, anything. But before he could find salvation, a paralyzing pain surged through his body, as though lightning had struck him from within. His breath caught in his throat, and his legs gave out beneath him. Raven collapsed, the mud sucking at his clothes, but he refused to give in. Slowly, painfully, he began to crawl, each movement an agony.

But his hope was short-lived. Mere feet away, two boots appeared before him, sturdy and unyielding. He looked up, rain stinging his eyes, only to see his killer standing over him. Without mercy, the boots crushed his fingers into the ground, pinning him in place.

Thunder boomed, shaking the forest as the figure slowly removed his hood. Raven's heart froze.

"Ryles?" His voice trembled with disbelief. The face before him was familiar, yet the coldness in Ryles' eyes was something new, something terrifying.

"What brings you to Mythoria?" Ryles crouched down, leaning closer to hear Raven's answer. But Raven said nothing, his vibrant green eyes reflecting the silhouette of the man he once knew.

The air crackled with tension, each breath a test of endurance. Lightning flashed intermittently, casting Ryles in a menacing light that only deepened the shadows around them.

Raven knew better than to resist. Struggling now would only hasten his end. He remained still, as rigid as the trees around him, trying to calm his racing mind.

'They wouldn't kill me, would they? They still need me,' he thought, though even to him, the notion seemed pitifully naive.

"Why?" The single word slipped from his lips, filled with the weight of his confusion and fear. He knew Ryles was here to kill him—there could be no other reason—but why? What had he done to warrant such a fate?

"Ask master yourself," Ryles replied, his voice devoid of emotion as he drove a dagger into Raven's chest. Raven's scream was drowned out by a violent clap of thunder, but something within him snapped. A surge of power he had never felt before erupted from deep inside, and with a force he didn't understand, he shoved Ryles away. Light exploded from Raven's hands, hurling his attacker against a tree. Ryles hit the trunk with a sickening crack, blood spurting from his mouth as his eyes widened in shock.

Raven stared at his hands, bewildered. What had just happened? How had he done that? His thoughts were a whirlwind, but there was no time to linger. Despite the agony radiating from his chest, he pushed himself up and sprinted, moving with a speed that defied the pain.

He knew better than to remove the dagger lodged in his chest—he recognized it as a poisoned weapon. Survival depended on escaping, not on addressing his wounds.

Ryles, though wounded, was not far behind. He drew his sword, the rain-soaked forest blurring around him as he pursued the boy with renewed determination. Raven had unleashed a power Ryles hadn't anticipated, and that made him dangerous. Perhaps this was why the master had ordered his death.

The rain intensified, making visibility nearly impossible. But Ryles was a trained hunter, relying on more than just his eyes. He spotted Raven above, moving from tree to tree, trying to blend with the shadows.

"Clever boy," Ryles muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. That explained why Raven had been so hard to track. But cleverness alone wouldn't save him. With a swift motion, Ryles flicked poisoned blades through the air, each one finding its mark. Raven cried out as the blades sliced through his shoulder, and he plummeted to the ground.

Before Raven could recover, Ryles was upon him, sword flashing in the stormy darkness. He drove the blade deep into Raven's gut. For a moment, the world was silent, save for the rain and the distant roar of the river far below. Raven's eyes locked onto Ryles', both filled with a mix of pain and defiance. Blood oozed from the wound, pooling at the cliff's edge before dripping into the churning waters below.

Ryles glanced at the cliff's edge, then back at Raven, whose green eyes briefly flared with an unnatural light. There was something otherworldly about the boy, something Ryles couldn't quite grasp. But it didn't matter now.

Ryles twisted the sword, driving it deeper, and with his free hand, he yanked the dagger from Raven's chest, allowing the poison to do its work.

"I'm sorry, but you have to die," Ryles whispered, the words carried away by the wind. Raven heard them, his face contorting with pain, tears welling in his eyes but never falling.

Ryles stood up, and with one final push, he kicked Raven over the cliff's edge. Raven's body slipped off the precipice, tumbling into the icy waters below. His vision faded in and out, the world around him growing dim as the river swallowed him whole.

Ryles stood there for a long time, staring at the spot where Raven had disappeared. The rain gradually softened to a drizzle, the storm's fury ebbing away. He finally turned and walked away, his silhouette retreating into the gloom, a lone figure burdened by the weight of what he had done.

The river resumed its calm flow, but something strange began to happen. Green lights, ethereal and soft, began to glow beneath the surface, spreading throughout the water. They moved like a silent dance, twirling and intertwining, their glow mixing with the blood that had seeped into the river. It was a beautiful, haunting sight, reminiscent of an aurora in the sky, but this one played out in the depths of the water.

No one was there to witness this eerie phenomenon, a moment of beauty born out of pain. The green lights continued their silent dance, drifting to the far ends of the river, carrying the memory of what had just occurred.

***

Seraphina awoke with a start, her senses tingling. Something was wrong. She had felt a disturbance since the rain began, but now it was undeniable—a massive shift in the air, tinged with magic.

"A mythical creature," she whispered to herself, a smile curling her lips. It had been so long since she had sensed anything like this. Pure-blooded mystics were rare, their power immense. She could only imagine how formidable this one must be. Her magenta eyes gleamed with desire—she had to find it, to possess it.

"Let the hunt begin," she murmured, releasing the curtains as she turned away.