It was so disturbing because Midnight saw herself in him. Just days ago, she had felt nothing but rage when the weavers trapped her in the tunnel. And now, in a strikingly similar way, she found it unsettling that the shadebeast was falling into her trap. A grand male like him should not meet his end like this. For many years, Midnight had been just like him. And even now, there was a part of her that wanted to discard all these thoughts and strategies, to simply engage him head-on, trading strikes and bites until one of them faltered. It was the same part of her that would have been truly content with being devoured by him.
But even if she gave in to this remnant of her origin, it would not feel right to Midnight like it did to him. Because the beast part was not her all. She was not the same as him or other hunters. She had a wizard who had taught her to recognise the many traps around her, as well as the futures ahead of her.
Midnight had never recognised Yves’ impact on her as much as she did now, in his absence. Surrounded by beasts who were either hunters or trappers, she realised she was both and more. Her wizard had changed her, gradually but profoundly. And because he did, she had been able to change herself. From his experiences with dimensions and magic, she had learned to embody and wield darkness. Now, she fought with his foresight and skills.
However, just as Midnight adapted, so did the shadebeast. Chasing her down to the ice-covered bottom of the cavern, he transformed into a swirling vortex of darkness, openly seeking close combat. His manoeuvres were both skilfully evasive and aggressively daring. As he attacked and thrashed Midnight’s defenses with sheer brute force, her serpentine tendrils fought back, disrupting his advances and thwarting any direct assault on Midnight.
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