THE BROKEN DREAMS

The air grew colder with every step Fred and Clara took.

The bramble path wound tighter, and the trees seemed to lean in, their gnarled branches grasping like skeletal fingers.

Fred's blood stained the ground behind him, a bright trail in the endless dark.

He could feel it—something moving beyond sight, matching his pace, breathing his name into the suffocating night.

Clara clutched his arm tighter, sensing it too.

"Fred," she whispered, "we're being hunted."

He didn't respond. He knew.

And worse—he knew who hunted them.

---

A twig snapped behind them, sharp as a gunshot.

Fred spun, instincts screaming.

From the void, a figure emerged—swift, silent, and merciless.

The hunter's face was hidden beneath a dark hood, but Fred could feel his gaze, cold and ancient.

In his hand was a blade so black it seemed to rip the world apart where it passed.

Fred pushed Clara behind him.

"Run," he hissed.

But Clara stood firm, tears burning her eyes.

"Not without you."

The hunter lunged.

Fred barely dodged, the blade grazing his side.

Pain exploded through him.

His vision blurred—but his resolve hardened.

He would not die here.

He would not let Clara die for him.

---

Something inside Fred stirred.

Something old.

Something furious.

The blood in his veins boiled.

Memories he had never lived flickered before his eyes—faces he didn't know, wars he had never fought, betrayals he had never suffered.

The weight of countless ancestors pressed down on him.

And they were angry.

Fred let the rage consume him.

A roar tore from his throat, shaking the forest.

His wounds burned with new energy, and when he raised his hands, the very ground answered.

Roots tore free from the earth, thrashing toward the hunter like living spears.

The hunter dodged, but his calm wavered.

Fred stepped forward, the air warping around him.

He was no longer prey.

He was a storm barely contained.

---

The hunter lowered his blade slightly, a twisted smile curling his lips beneath the hood.

"Finally," he said, voice full of dark glee. "You awaken."

He sheathed his blade and bowed mockingly.

"We will meet again, Verrick."

In a blink, he vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only the faint echo of laughter.

Fred staggered, his newfound strength draining just as quickly as it had come.

Clara caught him as he collapsed.

"It's okay," she whispered fiercely. "I've got you."

The forest around them fell silent once more.

But Fred knew this was only the beginning.

The hunter had been testing him—and next time, he would come to kill.

Fred's journey down the path of thorns had truly begun.

And there would be no turning back.

---