Orla:

Raven’s hooves thundered beneath me, the ground vibrating with every frantic stride as the forest blurred into a chaotic rush of hollow browns and grey. I had no control—he was spooked, his muscles rippling as he surged forward. All I could do was hold on, my fingers gripping the reins so tightly that my knuckles ached, praying that he wouldn’t veer too far off the path. The trees around us thickened, the underbrush scraping and snagging at my legs as the branches whipped at my face. My heart raced in sync with Raven’s frantic strides, fear surging through my veins like wildfire.

I glance back for a second, hoping—praying—that I had lost them. But no—there, cutting through the shadows, was the rider, cloaked in black. They were gaining on me, the distance between us shrinking. My stomach twisted, a cold dread settling in. They were too close. Too fast. Panic tightened its grip on my chest, and I urged Raven to go faster, though I knew he was already at his breaking point. His breath came in harsh, ragged bursts, his muscles trembling beneath me.

The wind howled in my ears, tearing at my hair and stinging my eyes. Branches scratched at my arms and face, leaving thin, burning cuts in their wake, but I couldn’t focus on the pain.

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"Please," I whispered through clenched teeth, barely able to catch my breath. "Please, don’t stop now. Just a little further."

But no amount of pleading could change what happened next. In a blur of motion, something struck me—a brutal, searing blow to the back of my head. It felt like a hammer had come down on my skull, and the pain exploded with such force that my vision darkened at the edges. I gasped, swaying in the saddle as the world tilted dangerously. Raven neighed wildly beneath me as if sensing my sudden disorientation and my grip on the reins loosened. My fingers slipped, and I struggled to stay upright, my head spinning, my senses dulled by the throbbing ache in my skull.

This is it. I’m going to die.

Through the last of my haze of pain and confusion, I could just make out the figure closing in. The rider’s arm was raised again, ready for another strike. My body tensed, instinct kicking in, but instead, I felt something heavy and suffocating being pulled over my head, a thick black hood that smothered everything—the forest, the wind, the sound of Raven’s frantic hooves. I thrashed, but my movements were weak, disoriented.

Then, the world went completely dark.

©Sky Mincharo