The demons came in a flood.

A spear punched through one of the human soldiers before Aeron could reach him. The man choked, tried to swing anyway, then vanished beneath a pile of claws.

Another soldier screamed as arrows made of bone tore into his chest. Irel leapt onto a root and fired down into the crowd, dropping three demons in rapid succession before a hooked chain wrapped around his ankle and yanked him from the branch.

He hit the ground painfully, and the demons were on him instantly. Aeron’s teeth clenched as he watched them all die within the space of no less than a second.

"Damn it!"

He tried to move toward him, but Zenovia appeared at his side and grabbed his arm.

"No, it’s too late for that already. We leave."

"Darin!"

Darin was pale and shaking, and had managed to press his remaining hand against the stump of his wrist, sealing the bleeding with wind mana that trembled violently from the pain. He looked toward Aeron and Zenovia, then toward the monsters closing in from every side.

"Damnit!"

His expression twisted. He grit his teeth and made a decision.

"Go!" he shouted.

Aeron’s eyes widened. "Don’t you dare!"

Darin slammed his remaining hand into the ground.

A violent burst of compressed wind exploded outward, throwing demons backward and carving a temporary gap through the horde. The force smashed into Aeron and Zenovia as well, pushing them toward the ravine exit.

"GO!" Darin roared again, blood spilling from his mouth.

Zenovia’s grip tightened on Aeron’s arm, and this time, she dragged him with all her strength.

Aeron stumbled after her, rage burning in his chest, but even he knew the truth. Staying meant dying here. All of them would die, and if they died without warning the others, then everyone else would follow them afterwards.

Behind them, Darin stood alone in the widening gap, one hand gone, his body trembling, wind mana swirling wildly around him.

The last thing Aeron saw before the ravine curved out of view was Darin raising his head with a bitter smile.

Then the demons crashed into him.

Aeron’s jaw tightened so hard his teeth ached. And so, they ran.

Zenovia moved like a shadow through the ravine, but even she was not untouched. Blood ran down one arm, and a long cut had opened along her thigh. Aeron followed close behind, his weapon dragging slightly against the stone, ready for whenever he turned to strike at the demons chasing them.

They cut down the first few pursuers quickly, but more came. Always more. The sound of claws on stone echoed behind them, joined by the wet, chittering growls of filthy things that wanted nothing more than to tear them apart before they could escape.

The air above them suddenly screamed.

Zenovia’s eyes widened. "Move!"

Aeron threw himself sideways as a crescent of dark red magic tore through the ravine wall where his head had been, melting the stone into black sludge. Zenovia had moved too, but not far enough.

The edge of the spell clipped her side.

She gasped in pain for one heartbeat, but she kept running anyway, only for her knees to buckle.

"Zenovia!"

Aeron caught her before she hit the ground. Blood poured from her side, darkening her cloak almost instantly.

The wound was ugly, the flesh around it stained black where the demon magic had touched her. Her face remained calm, but her breathing broke sharply through her teeth.

"Keep moving," she said.

"Obviously!" Aeron snapped, though his voice was rough.

He threw one of her arms over his shoulder and half-carried, half-dragged her forward. Behind them, the demons poured into the ravine, but strangely, the closest ones slowed down after a while, as though something had restrained them from finishing the hunt immediately.

Back in the hollow, one of the floating demon mages turned toward the three-eyed figure at the centre even as more of their lesser kind poured out of the portal.

"Should we give chase?" Its voice was dry and hollow as it asked.

The three-eyed demon watched the ravine exit where Aeron and Zenovia had vanished. Its third eye, set vertically in the middle of its forehead, glowed with a dim violet light, and countless thin strands of mana spread from its body into the demons below like invisible puppet strings.

"No," it said.

The demons beneath it stopped moving as one.

"Let them run."

The second mage tilted its head. "They will warn the other humans."

The three-eyed demon smiled maliciously.

"We follow slowly, and they will show us where the other humans are."

A low ripple passed through the demon army. The three-eyed demon lifted one hand. The hundreds of lesser demons turned in eerie unison toward the direction Aeron and Zenovia had fled.

The way they all seemed to be synced in whatever they did was what made it truly unsettling.

Demons were brutal, savage, and dangerous. But they never acted as one. They did not coordinate this well. They did not stop, turn, and wait with the perfect obedience of trained soldiers unless something far greater held their instincts in chains.

And that something floated calmly above them, the violet glow of its third eye pulsing as it controlled the army like a single living weapon.

"March," it said.

The horde obeyed.

They poured out of the hollow and into the forest, tearing through roots, crushing undergrowth, and leaving a trail of rot, blood, and shattered bark behind them.

The three floating demons followed above, drifting through the ravine like pale nightmares while their army scampered, crawled, and sprinted beneath them.

Ahead, Aeron and Zenovia staggered through the forest.

Zenovia’s breath had grown shallow. Aeron’s face was pale with effort, anger, and fear he would never admit to feeling.

"Stay awake," he ordered.

Zenovia’s lips twitched faintly despite the blood on them. "You almost sound... worried."

He snorted, "I’m not carrying your corpse back."

"How kind."

"Shut up and keep breathing."

He fumbled at his storage ring with one hand while supporting her with the other, finally pulling out a healing potion and biting the cork off with his teeth. He pressed it to her lips.

"Drink."

She tried to push it away weakly. "Save it."

Aeron’s eyes hardened. "Drink, or I’ll pour it down your throat and complain the entire time." Zenovia stared at him for half a second, but she ended up drinking. She really needed it.

The potion worked quickly, but it was just a basic healing potion, so it could only do so much.

The bleeding slowed, the black staining around the wound faded slightly, and her breathing became steadier, but the injury was still there. She could walk now, barely, but running was another matter entirely.

They had run out of those greater healing potions ages ago, so this was about all they could manage.

Aeron looked behind them. The forest was shaking. Birds exploded from the canopy in huge dark clouds.

Behind them, horns began to sound from distant watch posts, one after another, as the first signs of the demonic army tore through the trees, but at the pace they were moving, it didn’t look like they would be catching up to them anytime soon.

He was worried about that powerful trio, but they were nowhere within his line of sight. Their greatest concern was making it back to camp before the demons did, and even that was now overshadowed by their own survival.

If the demons somehow made it there before them, those on watch would be able to spot them at least a few minutes beforehand and prepare for battle.

He looked toward the gravely injured Zenovia, thinking about how to proceed. Camp was hours away, and it was dark out already. He had to make a decision soon.

Prioritize their survival and find somewhere to hide, or risk the demons catching up to them and keep running.

Zenovia forced herself upright, leaning heavily against him.

"How far?" she asked.

"Well... Too far," Aeron said.

Her eyes sharpened despite the pain. "Then leave me."

Aeron looked at her as if she had insulted every ancestor he had ever possessed.

"Say that again, and I’ll hit you."

"You won’t."

"I absolutely will. I’m under stress."

Zenovia let out a small laugh, but the motion made her hiss in pain. Aeron tightened his grip around her waist and forced them forward.

Death was behind them, closing the distance with every heartbeat.

He dragged Zenovia forward, breath burning in his lungs, blood running down his arm from wounds he had no time to count.

"Come on," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Come on, come on..."

Zenovia’s head lowered slightly against his shoulder.

"Don’t you dare sleep," Aeron growled.

"I’m not..."

"Good."