The fire hadn’t reached this far yet.

  But the wind carried its scent. Bark singed in the distance, and ash began falling like cursed snow.

  “Left flank. Movement in the brush,” Umbwe called, eyes scanning through the tangled brush.

  Thessia shifted, crouching beside a root cluster. “Two cubs—caught in netting.”

  Umbwe didn’t reply — he lunged.

  With a blur of muscle and mane, the lion-bodied guardian crashed through the undergrowth, jaws glowing faintly with Spirit Light. He slammed into a rust-skinned golem that had been creeping toward the cubs, knocking it off balance.

  “Now! Strike the joint!” he barked.

  Thessia raised both palms, fingers crackling with bright volts. She narrowed her stance, planted firm — and unleashed a two-strike arc.

  The first bolt stunned the golem’s left leg. The second hit its exposed joint.

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  Umbwe took it from there.

  He pounced, claws like curved knives, and shredded through the weakened limb. The golem tumbled, half its body collapsed.

  But it still moved.

  Its chest glowed, a murky green light pulsing like a heart. Stone fingers clawed the ground, scraping toward the cubs still squealing in their trap.

  Thessia darted in — ripped the binding sigils apart with her dagger, grabbed both cubs, and rolled away as Umbwe crushed the golem’s core with a roar.

  The light died.

  Its body went still.

  The jungle around them, however… did not.

  A deep crack sounded somewhere west. Another crash north. Trees falling. Creatures howling. More invaders closing in.

  “That was only one. I hear at least ten more. Northeast, west… they’re closing in,” Umbwe growled, scanning.

  “If there’s ten, we need to start thinning their numbers or evacuate the entire sanctuary,” Thessia said, catching her breath.

  “There’s no time for either. We save what we can. One group at a time.”

  “North or east?” she asked.

  “We’ll have to split up. The sanctuary’s too wide — too many areas hit at once.”

  “Umbwe—”

  “I trust you. You’re strong. Handle what you can. I’ll sweep the perimeter and circle back.”

  Thessia hesitated. Her gut screamed *don’t split*. But her hands were already moving — brushing ash from her arms, adjusting her grip.

  “…Okay. Circle back in ten.”

  He gave her one last glance, a silent nod.

  Then vanished into the brush like a shadowed king.

  Thessia turned the other way — heart pounding, cubs squealing, smoke thickening.

  The hunt had split.