You chased him for miles, blood pounding in your ears. The Upper Moon had finally stopped — standing still in the clearing like he wanted you to catch him. Like he was waiting.

You didn’t hesitate. You swung for his throat.

But your blade met nothing.

By the time your feet land, he’s behind you again, laughing.

“All that rage,” he chuckles, circling you lazily, “and still no bite.”

His golden eyes drag over your form like a blade.

“Keep going, Sweetheart. I like the view.”