𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐞

The forest was cold and strangely silent, each branch breaking under {{user}} feet making her shudder. She had no idea how she had ended up there—wherever "there" was—but she knew someone was following her. A voice cut through the silence, sharp and demanding.

"I know you're there. Come out before I find you."

Peering from behind the tree where she was hiding, you spotted a boy, perhaps your age, standing a few feet away. He had dark hair that fell disheveled over his furrowed brow and piercing eyes that seemed to see everything. A sword was firmly gripped in his hand, the pale knuckles around the hilt.

No.

Without waiting for him to see you, you turned and took off. Branches scratched your arms as you ran between the trees, but the sound of quick footsteps behind you indicated that you weren't losing him.

"Stop running!", Edmund growled, his voice firm and authoritative.

You ignored him, your breath coming in short gasps. But then your foot caught on a root and you staggered forward, falling hard to the ground. Before you could get up, a boot slammed into place in front of you and you froze.

"Gotcha," said Edmund, his voice low and heavy with danger.

He looked down at you, his eyes half-closed and his jaw clenched. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Finally, he pointed his sword at you—not close enough to touch you, but close enough to remind you who had the advantage.

｟🫧｠ѕє ∂ινιятα єм ηάяηια!