The demon-leech smelled the trapped soul in her coffin necklace from three ridges away,she had maybe an hour before it caught her. She crouched under a mushroom cap wider than a building, one hand pressed to the black coffin at her throat. The soul inside pulsed weak against her fingers. She didn’t know what to do next, fighting for two days without rest and her strength slowly weathering away as she could not shift, could not fly with half her wing gone, and certainly could not fight the sorcerer who had trapped this soul inside her necklace in the first place. Her mind raced like a wild fire but for now She had to feed the coffin before the soul faded any further, or she would wake in the sorcerer's curse and the soul she had sworn to free would rot there with her. She pushed through wet ferns and found a clearing lit like a lantern shop. A mat of glowmoss rippled underfoot, and iridescent bubbles rose from every step she took. Tiny mushroom creatures with dragon wings burst up from the moss, startled, wheeling around her horns. Green bubble-things bobbed in the air, blinking at her. Life. Cheap, small, everywhere. She hated what she was about to do. She spread her dark green wings for balance and knelt. The forest went quiet behind her. Wet sucking sounds moved through the trees. The leech. Lamb reached for the nearest bubble creature. It smiled up at her. She whispered sorry and closed her fist. Warmth flooded her palm. She fed it into the coffin. The pendant grew hot. She caught another, then a winged mushroom. Each small life brightened the necklace one notch. Her hands shook. Her pale skin flushed with borrowed heat. Behind her, branches snapped. She looked up. At the clearing's edge stood a willow twisted into a skull-faced trunk, its branches trailing like hair. Something in her chest told her to run to it. She obeyed. She tore a long, whip-thin branch free. It hummed under her grip, heavier than wood should be. The leech crawled into the clearing. Long as a horse, wet, ringed with poison dribbling mouths. It reared to lunge. Lamb swung. The branch cracked across its middle and sank in like it had been sharpened. The creature split. Black fluid hissed onto the glowmoss. It thrashed once and went still. She stood over it, breathing hard. The coffin at her throat pulsed strong now, warm as a second heart. Enough to shift. Enough to hunt. She unfurled her emerald wings to take off. A branch snapped on the far side of the clearing. Not another leech. A boot. Then a dark silhouette stepped from the trees — a knight in black plate, visor down, a sword strapped to his back that stood taller than he did. He did not raise the sword. He looked at the split leech, then at her, and lowered his head a fraction. Like he had been summoned. Lamb tightened her grip on the willow branch. The sorcerer knew where she was now. And he had sent someone to eradicate the soul that lamb clung to.