Yvonne stood in the center of the wrecked camp, the air still thick with smoke and salt.

  The trench was flooded. The supply tents gone. Half the cages were crushed. The other half—empty.

  One of his men approached, bleeding from the ear, limping on a bad ankle.

  “They’re gone,” he said.

  Yvonne didn’t move.

  “They used the trench beast. Set it loose like it was nothing. Most of the night crew’s either drowned or scattered.”

  Still no movement.

  Another man tried.

  “We think they ran east. Into the deep paths.”

  Yvonne’s fingers twitched. His cursed arm pulsed.

  “You think?”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The soldier froze.

  “I—Captain, I mean—yes. Tracks lead that way.”

  Yvonne raised his hand slowly.

  “Send the call.”

  “What call?”

  “The island call. All divisions. All squads. All blood. Bring me the children alive.”

  He turned slowly.

  “The rest… I don’t care what state they’re in.”

  The jungle didn’t sleep. It just waited.

  Thick vines swung overhead. Fog rolled along the forest floor like whispering ghosts.

  Rell ran, barefoot and focused, weaving through roots and brush with three children following close behind. Ko Mala brought up the rear, carrying the youngest like a sack of melons.

  “We’re close to the ridge break!” Rell called.

  “How close?” Ko Mala grunted.

  “Far enough to worry. Close enough to hope.”

  Branches cracked behind them.

  Then whistles.

  Then shouting.

  “They found us,” Ko Mala muttered.

  “No,” Rell said. “They were always behind us.”

  The jungle snapped open.

  Two squads burst through the trees — pirates in mismatched armor, some with old tribal markings, others with sharp hooks for tools.

  The frontman raised a cutlass.

  “Drop the kids or die tired!”

  Rell didn’t slow.

  He veered left, pulling the group into a tight trail that coiled around a fallen tree bridge. Ko Mala roared and swung his fist into the first pirate that reached them, sending the man airborne.

  It wasn’t enough.

  More came.

  A second group — this one faster, leaner — flanked from the right.

  Smoke bombs dropped. Nets thrown. The group was surrounded.

  Rell turned, eyes wild.

  “Scatter!”

  Ko Mala grabbed the kids and disappeared into the underbrush. Thessia pulled Lirah into the fog. Neyxa vanished without a word.

  Rell ducked low and dove straight into a wall of vines, blades missing him by inches.

  The battle broke apart as fast as it started.

  What followed was chaos.

  Rell moved like a ghost between trees, cutting through pursuers with broken weapons and wild fists. He used the terrain — branches to blind, mud to slip, thornvine to trap.

  He didn’t stop until the last pirate chasing him lay crumpled in the roots.

  His chest rose and fell in silence.

  No one around.

  No voices.

  No Ko Mala.

  No Neyxa.

  Just Rell. Alone.

  He stood slowly and looked toward the rising sun burning through the trees.

  “Now we hunt in reverse,” he muttered.

  Then he moved.

  Chapter End.