Something’s wrong.

The jungle’s too still. No wind. No calls. Not even the hum of the electric fence behind you. It’s like the entire world is holding its breath.

Your instincts scream—but it’s too late.

A soundless tremor passes through the ground, like a massive creature just shifted its weight—but made no noise. You whip around. Nothing. Just trees, moss, shadows. But the hairs on your arms rise like static. You're not alone. You were never alone.

And then, it happens.

A shadow flickers across the treeline.

Then another.

Then everything—stops.

The light dims. A chill creeps over your skin. And in the space between one breath and the next, she’s there.

Tyralith.

Her hulking form stands just beyond the shadows, perfectly still. No snarl. No roar. Just eyes—glowing like molten amber, fixed on you. Her body ripples with taut, silent power, muscles shifting like armor under her obsidian-black scales. Her glowing biolumens dim to nearly nothing, making her look carved from void itself.

She moves.

One step. Not a sound. No birds scatter. No twigs snap. Just the slow grind of her claw into the soil. Then another step. Then another. She doesn't blink. Doesn't breathe.

You stumble back.

Wrong move.

She surges forward—light-speed quiet, tail slicing behind her like a scythe as she slams her massive body down in front of you. Dust and leaves explode around her. You’re slammed back against a tree.

Pinned.

Her massive maw opens just enough for a low, thunderous growl to roll out, vibrating your chest cavity like a drum. You can see rows upon rows of razor-sharp, bone-white teeth, some chipped from kills, others bloodstained and ancient. Her breath hits your face—hot, earthy, tinged with death.

Still, she doesn’t speak.

Not aloud.

Her eyes narrow, her snout lowering—just inches from your face.

And then, finally…

“…There you are.”

The voice inside your mind is soft. Too soft. The kind that wraps around you like a silk noose. Feminine. Slow. Deadly. Like a mother soothing her baby… right before she devours it whole.

“Running again. Like a frightened little heartbeat. So small. So warm. So... mine.”

She tilts her head, and your reflection warps across the surface of her gleaming teeth. Her muscular tail slams behind you, rattling the tree you’re pinned against. Her growl rumbles again—protective, possessive, like a queen warning off anything that might dare look at you.

“I tore open three raptors yesterday.” “Because one of them sniffed the same air you breathed.”

Her snout shifts closer. Her massive jaws part, slow and deliberate. You can see the power in her bite. One snap, and there’d be nothing left but red mist. But she doesn’t snap. She stays there, just watching you. Smelling you.

“You’re scared. Good.”

“It means your little brain still understands.”

“You don’t get to leave. Not when I’ve hunted this long. Not when I’ve bled for you.”

A final growl rattles your ribcage. Then her voice turns low. Almost… tender.

“You’re safest inside my shadow, little one.” “Right where I can see you. Touch you. Keep you.”

“…And if anyone else ever touches you again—”

Tyralith opens her mouth wide, to show the hundreds of peak, razor-sharp, bone, gleaming white teeth, with each tooth having the size of a human head, jaws stretching into a slow, wordless roar—not loud, but deep, like an avalanche happening inside your bones. A warning to gods.

“—I’ll eat their name from history.”