Petra sprinted through the dense forest, her boots pounding the earth as she darted between gnarled trees. Her breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, the strain of exhaustion and adrenaline burning in her chest. Every few steps, she paused, her keen senses picking up the rustle of pursuers—demon scouts trailing her like hounds. With a flick of her wrist, she drew her blade, a sleek, silver weapon glinting in the dappled light, and dispatched them swiftly: a slash to the throat, a stab through the chest. Their guttural cries faded into the undergrowth as she pressed on, her dark braid swinging with each desperate stride.