Echoes of Dark Curse

CHAPTER FIVE

We didn't move.

Not at first.

Thorn stood stiff beneath me, muscles locked, ears twitching violently. I didn't dare breathe too loudly, didn't even blink.

Above us, the Petrivigil clung like stone-made nightmares to their nest-tree. Dozens of them, silent. Perfectly still.

But their eyes...

Red. Luminous. Unblinking.

Were they watching?

Or listening?

Could they hear my heartbeat?

Because it was loud now—so loud I thought it might give me away. The pounding in my chest echoed like war drums in my skull. My palms were slick. My throat dry. My entire body ached with the need to run.

But I didn't.

Not yet.

I lowered my hand, gently brushed the side of Thorn's neck. "Easy," I whispered, barely a breath. "We're just going to walk. Slowly. Quietly."

He snorted once, uneasy.

But he obeyed.

One step forward.

Then another.

The hoof met the earth with a soft thud.

Above us—movement.

A scrape of claw on bark.

A breathy rasp.

We both froze.

Another step. Another thud.

This time, a low, clicking sound rippled through the nest.

Like chittering stone.

I swallowed.

They're responding to the sound...

Not the sight.

Not the scent.

The sound.

Thorn stepped again. And again.

Each hoofbeat brought a new noise from above—scraping, twitching, whispering. A sound like shifting gravel. A whisper of death.

They were reacting.

They were tracking.

Not attacking... but waiting.

Watching.

Judging.

I wanted to scream. To bolt.

But I forced myself still.

We kept walking. Step by careful step. Past the blackened nest-tree. Past the gnarled roots where bones curled beneath moss like discarded things.

It wasn't until we were a dozen paces beyond that I finally dared to glance back.

And that's when I saw it.

Three of them were gone.

Vanished.

The others remained—still clinging, still watching—but the space where three had hung moments ago was now empty.

No movement.

No sound.

But I felt it in my skin.

They were coming.

My breath stuttered.

And then—I didn't think.

I moved.

"Run," I hissed, digging my heels into Thorn's flanks.

He didn't need telling twice.

The horse lunged forward, dirt spraying from his hooves, and we bolted through the trees, branches whipping past, mist parting like breath.

Behind me, something howled.

Not like a wolf.

Not like anything natural.

It was high and shrill—like metal screaming. A sound that shivered down my spine and made Thorn gallop faster, hooves hammering the forest floor like a war drum.

We ran, the wind slicing across my cheeks, my cloak flapping wildly behind me. Branches blurred past. Mist parted and closed again. But I knew.

They were coming.

I could feel them in the air.

Like heat before fire. Like pressure before a storm.

The Petrivigil didn't fly like birds.

They glided like falling blades. Their bodies weren't stone—not entirely. I saw it now as one shot past overhead, just a blur of jagged limbs and a flicker of glowing red. Their wings didn't flap. They folded—and the creature dissolved.

Gone.

Vanished into mist.

I twisted in the saddle, breath ragged.

And then—

Snap.

A force struck me from the side.

I screamed as I was ripped from Thorn's back, my legs torn from the stirrups. The air vanished. My body slammed into the dirt, pain exploding across my shoulder.

Thorn kept running—hooves echoing into the fog.

I hit the ground hard.

Dirt in my mouth.

My vision swam.

I rolled just in time to see the Petrivigil land nearby—its wings folding in like a cloak of shadows, its spined back rising and falling as it hunched.

It didn't speak.

It didn't breathe.

It watched.

And then—it lunged.

I screamed and scrambled away, my fingers clawing through leaves and roots until they closed around something long—solid.

A branch.

I gripped it with both hands and swung as the creature lunged again.

Crack.

It hissed, recoiling for a moment.

But then it came again.

I swung again. And again. Keeping it back.

Until—on the third swing—it caught the branch in its teeth.

Its jaw crunched down.

And snapped it in half.

The two pieces dropped to the ground as it stepped forward—slow, deliberate. Like it knew I had nothing left.

Its eyes burned like coals.

And I couldn't run.

I couldn't scream.

All I could do was close my eyes and brace for it.

Then—another sound.

Not a growl.

Not a howl.

A scream.

But not mine.

The Petrivigil in front of me jerked its head toward the sound, eyes narrowing. Something else had cried out in pain—something like it.

The creature in front of me snarled.

And fled.

It vanished—its body shivering like smoke before disappearing into the mist.

I didn't dare open my eyes.

Not right away.

Because something out there was worse enough to make a Petrivigil retreat.