Meanwhile, up on the surface.

The figure dodged to the right, their crimson cloak flowing out behind them as they dashed headlong through the night. A flash of white, bright enough to illuminate the surrounding forest, lit up the night as a spell sailed past soundlessly, missing by a hairsbreadth. That fucking fucker! How is he not out of fucking Mana!?!

Ignoring the hiss of steam as the light spell vaporised a thumb sized hole in the tree it struck, they kept running, their head on a swivel as they searched for any path through the trees that could offer an escape. Already exhausted from weeks of travel, a headlong dash through difficult terrain up a steep incline was quickly eating away at the last dregs of their stamina.

The trees grew closer together steadily the deeper into the forest they ran; the underbrush growing denser underfoot. Whilst this impeded the red cloaked runner somewhat, their pursuit was faring even worse. This was clear as the spell-fire slowed, before halting altogether, the gap between the figure and their pursuers now wide enough to make such line-of-sight spells infeasible.

Rather than stop their headlong dash, however, the figure kept up their brutal pace. They had broken line of sight once before after a particularly crafty dodge and had made the most of the opportunity, quickly finding an out of the way nook to hole up and rest.

The break had lasted all of five minutes thanks to the hunting parties woodsman, who apparently controlled some form of bullshit tracking magic. I need five minutes, and then I’ll show these fuckers what happens when they mess with me!

Stalling for those desperately needed five minutes was much easier said than done, however, the runner realising far too late that they were being herded. Not left with much choice, they pressed onward, forcing their way through a particularly thick patch of undergrowth.

Unsurprisingly, at least to anyone who’s worn one in thick brush, the trailing red cloak almost immediately snagged itself on something. An experimental tug produced only the sound of tearing fabric, so, with a curse, the cloak was unclasped and abandoned.

Revealed from beneath the cavernous hood was a young, pale skinned and raven-haired woman dressed in a mismatched and travel worn set of leather armour. She was clearly not entirely human, the black, furry, wolf-like tail and the pair of pointed ears atop her head giving an insight into her parentage.

Free of the confines of the hood, her ears swivelled as she listed for signs of pursuit, finding it much closer than she’d feared. Cursing under her breath, the woman pushed her way through the bushes and shrubs, wincing as sharp thorns bit into any exposed skin. After what felt like an eternity, she finally **** her way clear, only to let out a cry of dismay as she found herself in what was essentially a dead end.

Letting out a stream of expletives, she scanned the wall of rock ahead of her, hoping for an easy way up the rock face. There was no such luck, each originally viable path quickly running into dead ends or unstable looking hand holds.

Finding no easy ways to scale the edifice, she instead wheeled around, searching for other options. To the left? impassable rocks, to the right? More flipping impassable rocks. Truly ****, she faced back the way she had come, hoping that she’d be able to sneak back through, but it was already too late.

She heard them before she saw them, but movement from the underbrush soon heralded the arrival of her pursuers. Unarmed and now well and truly trapped, she had **** but to back away slowly towards the wall of rock as, one after another, all five members of the manhunt pushed out of the underbrush and into the clearing.

First out of the undergrowth, pushing clear in a way that painted the picture of an experienced woodsman, was the hunting party’s tracker. He was a young, sandy-haired man clad in leathers, the copper emblem pinned to the man’s arm denoting a novice ranked adventurer. He clearly looked troubled, but still approached her slowly despite his uncertainty, drawn shortsword held out in front of him; the tip of the weapon tracking her movements.

Second was a slightly older man, unshaven and dishevelled with dirty brown hair. His appearance, paired with his rusted chainmail and heavily chipped wooden shield, made him look like more of a bandit than an adventurer, and in fact, a quick inspection would highlight that he wore no rank insignia. The dishevelled man held his shield at the ready, a bearded axe clutched in his other hand.

After him came a young, blonde-haired woman. She wore plain grey robes which had seen better days, both covered in mud and ripped in places after the jaunt through the underbrush. She held a short, crooked wand in a white knuckled grip, marking her as a novice mage.

Like her companion, she looked uncertain, but that changed to a look of shock and dismay as she looked upon the form of the woman they had been chasing. She clasped her own burnished copper pin, looking back over her shoulder and demanding, “You told us we were pursuing a traitor to the light, a monster in disguise! This woman is clearly one of the redeemed!”

“Silence, girl! You know not of what you speak!” From out of the undergrowth came an older woman, her brunette hair streaked with grey. She, like the woodsman, was clad in leathers, the emblem of the adventurers' guild embossed on her armour. A thin rapier sat, still sheathed, on her hip. She glared at the younger woman, shifting her baleful stare over to the woodsman as he opened his mouth to defend his companion and voice his own complaint.

“You are being deceived! This devil-cursed spawn may look like an innocent maiden, but as a man of the cloth, I can smell her taint from here!” The sonorous declaration was made as the architect of this whole debacle stepped clear of the underbrush. He was the oldest of the group, with a shock of white hair, but carried himself with a grace that belied his age. His white robes splatted with mud and stained green in places, and the glare that he shot at the cornered woman only intensified as she muttered, “I’d never let you anywhere near my taint, prick. If something smells off, it’s probably because your head is shoved so far up your own…”

“SILENCE, CUR! HOW DARE YOU SULLY MINE EARS WITH YOUR FOUL WORDS!” Enraged, the cleric raised his sceptre, the wooden crook letting out a soft light as a spell slowly began forming atop it.

The grizzled man stepped forwards menacingly, an unpleasant grin on his face. After a heartbeat, the Woodsman reluctantly followed, training taking over. The pair of melee fighters hemmed the woman in, keeping her in check for the spellcasters in the rear

The trapped woman’s eyes locked onto the casting cleric, then flashed with a pale azure light, the true nature of the cleric’s forming spell revealed to her through use of her ability. Any hope the woman held of escape fled as, instead of the large-scale attack spell she’d been expecting, she was instead met with a spell of binding and suppression.

Already terrified, the trapped woman let out a wordless cry of dismay as the ability she’d kept back as a last resort was completely negated. She scanned the faces arrayed before her, looking for any sign of salvation. Instead, she only sank further into despair as she took in the cleric’s smug satisfaction, the older woman’s cruel sneer, and the scruffy man’s lustful hunger.

Now backed right against the cliff, and, if the lust in the scruffy man’s eyes was any sign, faced with a slow, terrible ****, the trapped woman rolled the dice. With nothing left to lose, she did the unthinkable, invoking ancient and terrible magics.

She spoke rapidly, in a voice shaky with rage, frustration and grief. “You dare break the pact of Runa Ruya, and hunt one who, despite her nature, fights for the light?” She spat towards the cleric, eyes burning with disgust as, in a quiet, deadly voice, she added, “I condemn you, oath-breakers! I hope the dark takes you, and your deaths are slow and painful!”

The air rippled, a feeling of indescribable pressure settling over the group as her **** act of defiance drew the attention of an entity older than the land itself. The trapped woman closed her eyes tight, ready for the annihilation that was sure to come should the summoned being rule in her hunter’s favour.

After a few moments passed and her expected annihilation never came, the women opened her eyes, waiting in spiteful glee for judgment to fall. She knew from the stories of such things that the three lackeys would probably get off lightly compared to the two in charge, their souls forever branded with the mark of an oath breaker.

In reality, this was probably still a **** sentence for the three, only a slightly slower one. Those marked as oath breakers were banished from civilised land on pain of ****. They would either die in the wilderness in the jaws of some beast, or by the hands of local militia should they venture too close to a town or village.

As for the instigators? Whilst their deaths would be quick, their torment in the afterlife would not. Only, their deaths never came. The woman’s jaw fell open in shocked outrage as the white light of divine protection settled over the two older hunters, negating the worst of their punishment. All they suffered was a minor nosebleed, which even failed to interrupt the man’s casting. A goddess defying the will of the world? Unheard of!

Adding insult to injury, the scruffy man also seemed mostly unaffected, letting out the mildest grunt of discomfort as the magic of judgment burned into his soul, only to find the brand of an oath-breaker already in place.

The only two that were truly affected were the two younger members of the hunting party, both of whom dropped to the ground bonelessly as the magic took effect and their souls were forever changed.

With the clerics spell almost complete, and suicide or salvation at the hands of oath magic off the table, she instead decided on a more mundane act of defiance. Tugging on an elbow strap, she allowed her bracer to drop away.

The back of the revealed arm was covered in thick black fur from the back of the hand to her elbow. Nestled amongst the fur was a single wickedly sharp spine, which protruded out from just under the woman’s wrist and extended back half the length of her forearm. This spine began noticeably shortening as the woman balled her hand and pressed her clenched fist to the side of her head.

That was when the stone wall behind her simply up and vanished. She immediately began pitching backwards, the rock wall no longer supporting her weight. She let out an “Eep!” of surprise, before experience took over.

Pointing her fist towards the ceric, she let out a small grunt of pain as an organic twang filled the air. The cleric let out his own grunt of pain, which quickly turned into a howl of agony as the destraction caused by the spine burying itself in his leg caused him to lose control of his spell, the invested mana quickly cascading back into his body in a textbook magical backlash.

In a feat of agility and acrobatics, she flipped herself face down as she fell, extending her arms to catch herself on the rapidly approaching stone floor. She managed to lessen her impact somewhat, still letting out a small “Oof” as she fell prone, but avoiding any major injuries. She was about to jump to her feet as a loud *CRACK* sounded, and the floor shifted beneath her, what was once flat quickly becoming an increasingly steep slope.

She let out a yelp of surprise as she started sliding face first over the slick stone, her scrambling hands and feet unable to find any traction. Rapidly she picked up speed, quickly leaving any trace of moonlight behind as she slid deeper into darkness.

Terrified beyond belief, the woman had **** to clench her eyes shut and await the inevitable impact as she sped faster and faster into the ground. The small flame of hope that had sparked to life as a portion of the cliff had disappeared dimmed rapidly, only to burst back into a blaze as the slope levelled out and she rapidly bled speed, eventually coming to a complete stop.

She cracked open her eyes, swallowing nervously as she saw the nondescript stone wall right in front of her nose. That was close. Wait… see? She jumped to her feet, scanning her surroundings with a practiced ease. The room she found herself in was made entirely from the same featureless stone as the wall she’d almost splatted against, and was perfectly square, roughly 10 metres to a side.

Other than the entrance she’d slid through, and a small corridor on the wall opposite, the room was entirely empty, lacking any notable features. That included any discernable light source, and yet the room was pleasantly lit with a soft light.

The sound of far off footsteps coming from the entrance put a stop to any further thoughts of magic sourceless lights. She nervously glanced back towards the entrance, only to gawp in confusion as, instead of a ramp of smooth stone, she saw a perfectly normal set of carved stone stairs descending into darkness.

The approaching footsteps, whilst currently a ways off, were growing steadily closer so, deciding that the mysteries of shifting rooms and sourceless light could wait, she turned towards the room’s exit. Quickly deciding that a potential **** at the hands of some unknown terror was preferable to the certain **** snapping at her heels, she fled deeper into the underground complex.

Questions began to pile up in her mind as she ran through empty rooms and corridors, her ingrained love of exploration not entirely dampened by the life and **** situation. Who made this sprawling underground complex? Where were they? What was its purpose? Was there a way for her to escape deeper in, or was she running into another dead end? Was she truly alone down here?

She was running through yet another empty room, the third since the room closest to the entrance, and was making a beeline for the next corridor when the first sign she was not alone in the complex came. She came to a screeching halt as, from deeper in the complex, an ear-splitting roar came.

The roar, a sound filled with pain and utter outrage, brought such visceral terror to the already terrified woman that she froze in place, unable to move. It was then the source of the roar stepped into view, and it was only with the aid of the remaining scraps of her shredded courage that the woman kept from widdling herself.

He, and it was so very clearly a he, easily stood 8 or 9 feet tall, towering over the woman. His body rippled with muscle under his pitch-black fur as he padded closer, his monstrous hands tipped in razor-sharp claws. His bared teeth glinted in the strange light as he growled, the vibrations caused by such a menacing sound somehow felt through her boots. So, this is how I die.

Rooted to the spot, she could only watch her **** approach on silent feet. His eyes met hers, burning orbs filled with intense pain, rage, and hate, and her body seriously reconsidered its stance on the whole widdling thing.

But then the beast’s eyes softened, and he let out a sigh, powerful enough to ruffle her hair. Expecting doggy breath, she was pleasantly surprised when her tired mind noted that the smell wasn’t all that bad.

She watched him pad right up in front of her, watched him reach out, the mighty clawed hand, more than capable of popping her head like an egg, descending towards her and… patting her on the head? She watched, confused, as the hand descended again, only for a soft moan to slip from her lips as he idly scritched behind her ears.

Covering her mouth to stem further mortifying noises, she turned an interesting shade of pink as he continued to scritch. She looked up at the beast, her heart pounding, only to find the bugger wasn't even looking at her, and instead was looking over her shoulder back the way she had came.

About to give the far too familiar beast a piece of her mind, she came to her senses when, in a low, gravelly voice, he rumbled, “you can stop running, Elise Farrier, you are safe now. Please, step aside, rest, and let me deal with those that dare call themselves righteous.”

Now far past well and truly baffled, the young woman, who was indeed known as Elise, stepped aside, watching silently as the massive werewolf padded past her, his focus settling on the far corridor. How, in the ever-loving fuck, does he know my name!?!