Forged Destiny [Book 1: Ch. 3]

He, or as close as I could tell – seemed to appear from the shadows of a nearby rooftop, diving in with incredible grace to slash a single-edged curved blade against the back of the Beowolf's neck. Blood and fur flew, even as the creature roared its displeasure and tore itself free from the wall.

I scrambled to my feet a second later, determined to help my mystery ally. For some reason I couldn't make out much, just the colour of black. Black hair, black clothing – even the weapons seemed a dark grey. What flashes of pale skin I could make out were obscured by a cloth mask across the lower face – and perhaps more unusual – I couldn't make out the details above them.

Not for distance or my vision being obscured, but because they seemed to shimmer hazily. The figure turned to me, even as the Grimm recovered. "Flee," he – no, it was a woman's voice – said.

"W-wait," I gasped, "Don't you need help?"

She looked like she might say something else. The golden eyes I could just about make out narrowed, as though in anger – but they soon left me as the Beowolf attacked. She ducked underneath one paw and dashed forward, blade not reflecting a single bit of light. I readied Crocea Mors, prepared to charge and do what I could.

"Run!" She said again, this time louder. The urgency behind it made me take a step back, but there was still a part of me – a foolish part – that didn't want to leave someone behind to die like this.

—Forged Destiny [Book 1: Ch. 3]