The hum was louder now, thrumming in the back of my skull like a heartbeat. It guided me, pulling me forward with an urgency I couldn't ignore. The forest around us seemed darker, denser, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.

"Are you okay?" Finn's voice broke through my thoughts.

I glanced back at him. His warm, brown eyes were full of concern, his brow furrowed as if he could feel the weight pressing down on me. I wanted to tell him I was fine, that we didn't have time to stop, but I could hear the shakiness in my own voice as I answered. "I'm fine. We need to keep moving."

He nodded, but unease lingered in his expression. The air here was wrong—too still, too heavy, like the forest itself was holding its breath. Every snap of a branch or rustle of leaves set my nerves on edge.

I tightened my grip on the knife in my hand, my eyes scanning the path ahead. The hum pulled me forward, insistent, but the closer we got, the more suffocating the atmosphere became. Finn stayed close, his presence a steadying force even though I could feel the tension radiating from him.

"Lyra," he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Are you sure this is the right way?"

I nodded. "It's here. I can feel it."

His hand brushed mine for a brief moment, a silent reassurance that he trusted me. It steadied me enough to take another step.

That's when it happened.

The ground gave way beneath me, and I barely had time to cry out before I saw it: claws tearing through the earth, glowing eyes locking onto mine from the shadows. A creature—something out of a nightmare—emerged from a hidden pit, its body low to the ground, coiled and ready to strike.

My breath caught, and I froze. It snarled, a guttural sound that made my stomach churn.

"LYRA!"

Finn's voice broke through the haze of fear, sharp and desperate. I stumbled back just as the creature lunged, its claws slicing through the air where I'd been a second ago.

Before I could react, Finn was in front of me, shoving me behind him with a force I couldn't fight. "Finn, no!" I tried to push past him, panic surging through me, but he held his ground.

"Stay back!" His voice was firm, steady in a way that didn't match the fear I saw in his eyes.

The creature let out another snarl, its glowing eyes narrowing as it crouched, preparing to attack again. My heart thundered in my chest. This was it. We were outmatched, and there was nothing I could do—

Then everything changed.

Light burst from Finn, golden and warm, spilling out like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. The shadows that clung to the trees scattered, retreating from the brilliance. The creature hesitated, its snarl faltering as it shielded its eyes from the sudden glow.

Finn took a step forward, and the light followed him, growing brighter with each movement. It wasn't just light—it was heat, warmth, safety. I could feel it even from behind him, like standing in the sun after a lifetime of cold.

The creature stumbled back, letting out a guttural growl before retreating into the shadows. Its glowing eyes disappeared into the darkness, leaving only silence in its wake.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The forest felt lighter now, less oppressive, but all I could focus on was Finn.

He turned to me, his face pale, his hands trembling slightly as the glow faded. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice steady despite the faint quiver in his words.

I nodded, my breath still caught in my throat. "Finn, you... what was that?"

He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as if testing them. The faint warmth lingered in the air, even as the light disappeared. "I don't know," he said softly. "But... I think it just saved us."

I stared at him, my heart still racing. The Finn I knew was kind, selfless, optimistic—but now, there was something more. Whatever this power was, it had protected me—protected us—and I could see the weight of that realization settling on him.

"Lyra," he said, his voice low. "We have to tell the others. Whatever's happening to us... it's bigger than we thought."

I nodded, but my thoughts were already spinning. The hum was still there, quieter now but just as insistent, pulling me forward. I didn't know what was waiting for us, but one thing was clear: we weren't the same people we'd been when we started this journey.

And somehow, I knew we never would be again.