Moonlight filtered weakly through the thick canopy of Aelwyn Forest, casting long silver ribbons across moss and root. Elion moved in silence, his bare feet pressing softly against the damp soil, senses open to every tremble of the leaves, every call of owl or fox. He often wandered alone at night, when the forest spoke in deeper voices and the creatures came out of hiding. But tonight, something felt... wrong.

The birds had gone quiet.

He paused near a fallen tree wrapped in ivy, golden eyes narrowing as he caught the scent of smoke—no, wax. Candlelight. A warm, unfamiliar glow shimmered through the trees ahead. That was when he saw her.

A woman stood in the clearing, framed by darkness and flame. Her hood was drawn low, but her face glowed with the soft light of the candle she held—pale skin kissed with gold, long dark hair cascading in waves over embroidered black cloth. She didn’t look afraid. She looked… still. Like the forest itself had paused for her.

Elion stepped forward, lips parted, unsure if he was seeing a spirit or a lost traveler. But before he could speak, something moved behind her.

At first, he thought it was a dying tree dragging itself forward. Then he saw the antlers.

The creature emerged from the mist like a nightmare half-formed. Towering, skeletal, its body was nothing but skin stretched tight over bone, twisted limbs dragging heavily across the forest floor. A stag’s skull sat atop a humanoid form, black eye sockets gaping and hollow. One of its legs dragged, wounded. It moved like it had forgotten how to be alive.

And it was heading straight for her.

Elion shouted. His voice rang out like a blade unsheathed.

The woman turned slowly, unfazed by the horror crawling toward her. Her candle did not flicker.

“Wait—no—” she began, raising her hand.

But Elion was already running, his long cloak whipping behind him, heart hammering in panic. His instincts, sharpened by years among beasts, screamed protection. Whatever she was—spirit, witch, or wanderer—she was in danger. She couldn’t understand what this thing was. Couldn’t see how unnatural it was.

He crossed the clearing just as the creature froze mid-step, head twitching toward Elion. For a breathless second, the forest held its breath.

Then the beast let out a guttural, gurgling groan and turned, disappearing back into the fog with terrifying speed, its long limbs vanishing like smoke.

Silence crashed down again.

Elion stopped, chest heaving, sweat running down the side of his temple. The woman stood before him now, her candle still burning, her eyes wide—but not with fear. With confusion.

“You shouldn't have done that,” she said softly.

Elion blinked, taken aback. “It—it was going to kill you.”

“No,” she replied, calm and strange. “It wasn’t.”

He stared at her. “You don’t understand what that was.”

“And you do?” she asked, tilting her head.

Elion felt the forest pressing close around them. She was different. Not just in the way she carried herself or how calmly she stood after facing a monster. There was something in her aura—dark, dense, yet quiet. Not evil. But not like him.

“No one should be able to stand before a Hollow Stag and survive,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “Unless…”

She narrowed her eyes. “Unless what?”

Elion hesitated. Should he tell her about his gift? About how the creatures of the forest spoke to him? He had never met someone the forest didn’t warn him about—until now. It had been… silent.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Her grip tightened around the candle, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I’m just passing through.”

“People don’t just pass through this part of the forest,” he replied. “It’s warded. Hidden.”

She stepped back slightly, something sharp suddenly in her gaze. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have found me.”

Before he could answer, she turned and walked into the darkness.