The arrow didn’t kill it.

It couldn’t.

But the silver sank deep.

The molten creature’s roar split the clearing, a sound so raw it vibrated through bone. Fire detonated outward from me in instinctive retaliation, a concussive wave that sent rogues scrambling and pack wolves skidding backward across scorched earth.

Silver.

The smell hit next.

Sharp. Metallic. Burning.

The creature staggered, claws carving trenches into dirt, molten-gold eyes flashing not fear

Pain.

And behind it ...