The forest didn’t sound right anymore.

  Too many trees groaned instead of swaying. The fire didn’t crackle — it hissed, slow and angry. Smoke drifted low, hugging the roots like it knew what was coming.

  Thessia crouched beside a shattered log, three beast cubs trembling behind her — a tusk-hare, a silver whelp, and something foxlike with twin tails. All wounded. All scared.

  A sound rumbled through the trees.

  Not footsteps.

  Stomps.

  She turned.

  A golem. Solid, gleaming steel infused with mana. Its face was a smooth steel plate carved with a blank expression and glowing blue slits for eyes. Reinforced shoulders gleamed with runic bolts and exposed gears. Its right arm dragged, trailing a net meant for cubs. Cold. Purposeful. No soul behind the motion.

  Thessia’s throat tightened.

  She whispered without turning: “Back. Hide. Don’t move.”

  The cubs shuffled behind a root cluster.

  The golem didn’t wait.

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

  It charged.

  Thessia leapt right, lightning sparking from her palms as she flung a charged bolt — it hit the creature dead in the shoulder. A sizzle, a blue pulse, and the tiniest hitch in its stride.

  It swiped.

  She ducked, pivoted under the arm, then jabbed her elbow into its side — another spark.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  It backhanded her mid-spin, the force launching her across a tree trunk with a crack that shook her teeth. Her shoulder lit up with pain.

  She rolled, flipped to her feet, wincing. Blood trickled down her thigh from steel shrapnel embedded deep.

  The golem moved toward the cubs.

  “No—!”

  She surged forward, not thinking — just moving.

  The golem reached for them.

  She threw herself into the path.

  The impact was brutal. Its arm slammed into her back as she formed a hasty barrier. Bones groaned. Her ribs lit up like fire. She gasped.

  But she stayed upright.

  Her hands trembled. Her legs shook.

  She bit her lip and muttered through the pain: “You don’t… get to take them.”

  Then lightning surged from her arms again — not an attack, a trap. She’d planted sigils earlier, buried under leaves when they fought near the stream. She twisted her hand—

  And triggered the field.

  A cage of raw electricity erupted around the golem, arcs of energy chaining it to trees. It let out a metallic screech, trying to move — but she kept feeding it power, veins glowing.

  Her nose bled.

  Her knees buckled.

  The golem screamed one last time before it exploded inward — shards of steel and sparks raining down.

  Silence.

  Except her ragged breathing.

  She dropped to one knee.

  Then all the way down.

  The cubs padded forward. One licked her hand.

  “Still… here,” she whispered, trying to smile.

  She pushed herself up — limping, bleeding, dragging her weight step by step through the blackened trees. The cubs followed.

  She didn’t win that fight.

  She just survived it.

  And barely.