The Queen's laughter grows louder, its jagged, alien mouth splitting into a grotesque grin as its dark green eyes lock onto Eska. It slowly steps closer as though savoring the moment before the inevitable confrontation.
"Today, we're learning enhancement," Marina's voice echoes in Eska's mind, calm, even as Eska stares up at the towering form of the Queen before her.
"It doesn't matter how fast you are or how much punishment you can endure. If you can't deal any damage, you're fighting a losing battle," Marina continues despite the tension gripping Eska's body.
"Begin," Marina commands.
As if the Queen itself could hear the challenge, it lunges forward with terrifying speed, its bladed limbs slicing through the air like a storm of razors.
Eska barely has time to dodge, throwing herself to the side as the Queen's claws slam into the ground, sending shards of resin flying in every direction.
"Listen carefully," Marina's voice cuts through the chaos, keeping Eska focused. "Enhancement is about efficiency. Every movement, every ounce of energy, must work for you, not against you. Think of your muscles as sponges. Right now, they're only absorbing a trickle of what's available. What if they could take in more? Work faster?"
Eska rolls to her feet, narrowly avoiding another strike, her claws glowing faintly as she tries to find an opening.
"And how am I supposed to do that?" she snaps.
Eska narrowly ducks under one of the Queen's razor-sharp claws, her glowing eyes darting for an opening as she hears Marina's voice echo in her mind.
"Your bloodcraft will make things easier," Marina says, calm despite the chaos. "Draw from the air and the humidity around you. Let your blood carry more oxygen. Let your muscles contract harder, faster. Every cell in your body can drink deeply, becoming more efficient."
The Queen lunges again, its massive claw carving through the resin floor as Eska leaps back.
The weight of Marina's words presses into her thoughts. "The harder your heart pumps, the more fuel you'll have to burn. But don't let that power go to waste. Focus it, control it. Limits mean nothing when your body can take the punishment."
Eska grits her teeth, feeling the flow of her bloodcraft intensify.
Eska steps forward with a sudden burst of speed, her claws flashing as she strikes at the Queen's carapace. The impact reverberates up her arm, but the Queen doesn't even flinch.
Her blade-like claws leave no mark on the creature's hardened shell, its smooth, impenetrable surface mocking her efforts.
Frustration bubbles in her chest as the rush of power coursing through her veins proves useless against the towering monstrosity.
"You've used this before—against the wendigos." Marina's voice cuts through her thoughts calmly. "Remember what happened? Your arm was nearly burnt from the air friction. Strength alone won't help if you can't control it. Pay attention, Eska. You're doing this wrong."
Eska stumbles back, chest heaving, frustration mounting with every breath. The Queen looms above her, unbothered, its twitching antennae mocking her struggle.
Why is this happening?
She dodges another vicious swipe, rage swelling inside.
I just wanted to live with Mom. I just wanted to hunt with her.
Her blood boils.
The heat surges through her veins, raw and untamed. Her vision sharpens, the dim chamber turning crisp, every detail heightened—the shifting resin beneath her feet, the slight shifts in the Queen's exoskeleton, the way its joints flex before an attack.
Her teeth ache, elongating, fangs pressing against her lips as her breath turns deep and steady.
Then, she remembers. The werewolves.
Not just the werewolf in the forest, but the ones from before—the night enveloped in snow. She remembers everything as if she had seen it. The way they moved, the deadly efficiency in every motion. Their bodies weren't just fast; they were perfected for the hunt.
She mimics them.
The next time the Queen lunges, Eska doesn't just dodge—she flows with it. Her body lowers, weight shifting effortlessly as her claws arc forward, glowing blood-red, pulsing with raw power.
She doesn't hesitate.
Her strike lands.
Her talons bury deep into the Queen's shoulder, cutting through its hardened carapace like it's nothing. A sickening crack echoes through the chamber as the exoskeleton shatters beneath her force, the joint giving way entirely.
The Queen screeches, its massive frame stumbling back, its arm hanging useless, barely connected by strands of torn, glistening sinew.
For the first time, it recoils.
Eska bares her fangs, her glowing claws flexing as she takes a step forward. The fire in her blood doesn't fade. It demands more.
And she gives it more.
Eska bolts forward, faster than she's ever moved—faster than she should be able to move. The chamber blurs around her, her body a force of pure instinct, raw power unleashed.
The Queen barely has time to react.
Its confidence flickers, replaced by something unfamiliar. Its twitching antennae still, its stance falters. Its eyes lock onto hers—where once they held cold certainty, now they hold something else.
Fear.
Eska crashes into the Queen like a force of nature, her claws slicing through its armored hide as if it were nothing more than wet parchment.
She moves with terrifying precision, every motion fluid, relentless. Her fangs bared, eyes wide and gleaming with something raw, something primal.
Black ichor sprays as she carves deep, jagged wounds, her movements feral, unrelenting. The Queen screeches, slashing wildly, but Eska twists past its attacks.
She lunges, burying her talons into its chest, then tears them free, ripping out chunks of its carapace. The Queen staggers, its body failing, but Eska doesn't stop. She hooks her claws into its spine and wrenches, splitting its form open in a sickening crack.
The creature tries to crawl back, its remaining limb dragging uselessly—until Eska steps forward, eyes burning, and drives her claws straight through its skull.
The Thaxil's hum dies with it.
Eska yanks her claws free, ichor dripping from their jagged edges. Her breath is ragged, her chest rising and falling with the lingering pulse of fury still coursing through her veins.
She lifts her gaze, scanning the Thaxil surrounding her.
They do not charge.
Their bladed limbs twitch, their antennae flick wildly, their bodies rigid with hesitation. Their piercing hums, once filled with confidence, now tremble with fear.
Eska stands atop their Queen's ruined corpse, her glowing claws flexing, her bloodied fangs bared.
The predators of Osalde—the monsters she was raised to fear—are now afraid of her.