Book One – Chapter 10

So confine him. As Midnight darted around the cavern, she left a trail of darkness spears and discs in her wake, persistently assaulting the shadebeast. She drew upon the darkness with indominable tenacity, saturating the air with her lethal arsenal. Each projectile missed its mark, but the shadebeast’s constant evasion slowed his advance, allowing Midnight to maintain her lead. When he drew too close, she transformed the surges of darkness around her into dense tendrils that thrashed like the cliff behemoth and lashed out at him like stygian serpents, generating ripples that disrupted his form upon touch while Midnight produced ever more spears and discs.

And as they darted through the cavern, she was trapping him.

She was trapping him, and he did not seem to notice the grander scheme. He kept chasing her, his actions suddenly so simple that all tension within Midnight lightened. He was not senseless; he might even understand that she was learning and exploring strategies. Whatever his thoughts, Midnight understood that he simply kept chasing her because it felt natural. Because to him, it felt right. If he could envision a future where Midnight released her trap, or if he could consider that retreating now might save his life, he would understand that continuing the hunt was the wrong tactics for survival — but from moment to moment, within every moment of present until the imminent moment of his death, it felt right to him.

To Midnight, it felt wrong. It was a disturbing realisation. Deep within her lay rooted an understanding founded in nature: that he, who surpassed her in size, strength and speed, should also surpass her in life. She had felt this as their jaws had interlocked and she had been so clearly inferior. And she had felt it during their direct confrontation, when his grand paws had so easily ruptured her. But now, she dominated because she fought like a wizard and acted like a trapper.