The roar of the engine filled the air as Sabir sped through the night, squinting against the unlit expanse stretching out before him. The landscape ahead was rough, punctuated by occasional patches of jagged rocks and thorny plants that seemed almost to reach out for him. He cursed under his breath—he hadn’t realized he’d be traveling in complete darkness, relying only on the old man’s directions. He wasn’t sure if he could trust them, but after the old man had healed his injuries, he couldn’t imagine he’d be led astray now. But then again, out here, any hesitation could be fatal.


    Rattling along the rough terrain, Sabir’s nerves sharpened. Each shift of sand or a distant, echoing cry stirred his fears. The wasteland seemed alive tonight, the unseen creatures’ movements a constant reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond his vision. Occasionally, he felt the weight of something watching him, as though eyes followed his every move. He clenched his hands tighter on the handlebars and forced himself to press forward.


    Then, a piercing scream cut through the night air, followed by another. They weren’t far ahead, and whatever made that sound was definitely moving—fast. Sabir’s pulse quickened, and his lips curled into a grin. They sounded small, no bigger than an easy kill. Maybe two little beasts he could simply run over. He revved the engine, the bike’s light cutting through the darkness as he prepared to barrel straight through them.


    But as his headlights swept over the shapes in front of him, the grin vanished. He slammed on the brakes just in time to recognize familiar faces, eyes wide with terror, arms flailing as they sprinted toward him.


    “Zabo? Warren?” he shouted over the engine, disbelief mingling with relief as he took in the sight of his friends.


    Zabo’s face split into a wide, unrestrained smile, relief written across his features as he caught sight of Sabir. Warren’s expression was more complex—a mixture of shock, exhaustion, and something that looked like disbelief.


    But Sabir’s own relief turned ice-cold as his gaze shifted past his friends. Emerging from the inky darkness, a pair of huge, round eyes reflected his bike’s light—eerie and shining with an intelligence both predatory and ancient. The eyes blinked slowly, and then the massive silhouette of an owl materialized from the shadows, its form cutting an imposing figure as it glided closer, silent as death.


    The owl was colossal, easily standing taller than a man, and its powerful wings spanned what felt like half the horizon. Dark feathers, mottled with patches of dusky brown and silver, layered its body like impenetrable armor. Its feather patterns gave it an ethereal, almost otherworldly quality, as if conjured straight out of a nightmare. Each feather shifted with a sleek precision that spoke of the creature’s lethality, catching and bending the dim light to create a flickering effect over its powerful frame.


    Its head was massive, shaped with a natural crown of feathers that flared out like horns, adding a menacing quality to its silhouette. Its round face, marked by two dark rings around the golden eyes, was hauntingly expressionless—focused, calculating. The beak, sharp and curved, glinted under the light as if eager to snap down on its prey. The great owl floated closer, its silent approach more terrifying than any roar or growl, as if the air itself held its breath for this spectral predator.


    The edges of its talons glinted with a deadly, metallic sheen, each claw razor-sharp and curled in anticipation. With each slow, measured beat of its wings, gusts of air and sand swept toward Sabir and his friends, as though even the wind itself was submitting to the creature’s power. It was a predator through and through, its every movement fluid and deliberate as it closed in, its eyes unblinking, fixed solely on them.


    Sabir felt a cold sweat break out as he tightened his grip on the handlebars, the owl’s gaze rooting him to the spot. He didn’t dare look away.


    Sabir’s heart skipped a beat. “Get on! Now!”


    Without a second thought, Zabo and Warren leapt onto the bike, clambering over each other as they squeezed in behind him.


    The bike lurched, and Sabir cursed. “You guys just added a whole lot of weight,” he muttered, pressing down on the throttle with everything he had. The engine whined as the overloaded bike struggled to accelerate.


    “Hey, I’m not that fat,” Zabo shouted, as he hung on to dear life.


    “What’s with the giant owl?” Sabir shouted over the roar.


    “It’s not just any owl—it’s a Tyton!” Warren yelled. “They hunt at night, safer from the dragon that way!”


    “Nice to see you too, buddy,” Zabo said, flashing Sabir a quick grin despite the terror in his eyes. “Really glad you’re alive—but maybe speed up a little?”


    Sabir shot him a glare over his shoulder. “Speed up? With both of you dragging this thing down? I’m trying!”


    The bike rattled and groaned, barely keeping them ahead of the Tyton’s pursuit. Each flap of the creature’s wings brought it closer, and its cries rang out, louder and more ominous with each passing second.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Zabo glanced back, his face tight with fear. “We can’t outrun it, not like this.”


    Warren nodded grimly. “Sabir, turn the bike around.”


    Sabir wore a baffled look. “Are you out of your mind?”


    Zabo caught on quickly, his expression steeling with resolve. “We have to face it head-on. Warren’s the only one with powers strong enough to take it out.”


    Warren hesitated, swallowing hard. “I—I don’t know if I can do it,” he admitted, voice trembling.


    Sabir locked eyes with him in the bike’s mirror, his gaze fierce. “Warren, you have the power. This isn’t the time to doubt yourself. Just do it!”


    With a grim nod, Sabir twisted the handlebars, skidding the bike in a tight arc until they faced the oncoming creature, dust kicking up in plumes around them, in a dramatic sweep that framed Warren and Zabo against the starlit horizon. The Tyton screeched, its wings spread wide as it bore down on them.


    Warren took a deep breath, lifting his hands as he focused. Memories surged in his mind—his mother’s voice, her warm encouragement, her gentle reminder to always protect his family. A new resolve hardened within him as he clenched his fists, electricity crackling at his fingertips.


    “Sorry, Mother,” he whispered, a determined gleam in his eye. “But I’ll use my gifts to protect who I want.” Faces of his friends flashed in his mind—Sabir, Zabo, each one like family now.


    Electricity surged through Warren’s veins, his heartbeat syncing with the pulsing energy building inside him. The power gathered, dense and electric, its force pushing outward from his core and flooding his arms. Sparks crackled along his skin, brightening with every second, until his palms glowed with a fierce, blinding light. It felt like holding the heart of a storm, raw and uncontainable. He gritted his teeth, digging deep for control as the current raged within him, fierce and demanding release.


    With a roar, he thrust his hands forward, palms open, unleashing the pent-up force. The bolt of lightning shot forth, a blinding arc slicing through the night, fierce and unstoppable. It streaked through the darkness, illuminating the sands below in a brilliant flash as it contacted the Tyton’s chest.


    The impact was instantaneous. The Tyton shrieked, a piercing, guttural cry that resonated through the air, its feathers standing on end as the lightning seared through them. Sparks erupted across its body, crackling and racing over the vast wingspan, illuminating each feather in sharp relief. The creature’s massive form glowed, the energy dancing along its plumage, highlighting the dark, predatory eyes that now held a flash of fear.


    Blinding light suspended the world for a moment, as a storm of electricity flooded the beast, burrowing deeper until it found the vulnerable heart at its center. Smoke rose from the Tyton’s chest as a smoldering hole appeared, the flesh charred and glowing at the edges. The creature’s scream faded, replaced by the ominous hum of crackling energy that resonated even in the stillness.


    Its wings faltered, the strength sapped by the blast. In one final, desperate beat, the Tyton tried to stay aloft, but its massive form tilted, falling, as gravity took over. With a thunderous crash, it slammed into the earth; the impact sending tremors through the ground beneath them, scattering sand and dust into the air. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the fading echo of Warren’s lightning and the lingering glow of smoldering feathers.


    Panting heavily, Warren lowered his trembling hands, which still crackled with faint, blue-tinged sparks. The remnants of his attack tingled across his skin, and he felt the lingering pulse of raw power fading with each heartbeat. He cast a look of pure disdain at the massive, motionless form of the Tyton, its feathers still smoldering and twisted. “I hate owls,” he muttered, voice rough from exertion, as if the words alone could drive the loathsome creature further into the ground.


    Beside him, Zabo broke into an exuberant laugh that echoed through the dark night, filled with pure relief and adrenaline. “I knew you had it in you, Sparky!” he shouted, pulling Warren into a tight, victorious hug. The embrace was warm but brief, Zabo’s enthusiasm overpowering Warren’s tired protests. “You just zapped a giant owl! Can you believe it?” he added, his grin wide and infectious.


    Warren rolled his eyes, but a faint, exhausted smile crept onto his face, softening the hardened lines from the fight. “Get off me, Zabo,” he grumbled, attempting to shrug off his friend’s arms, though there was little force in his voice. The momentary flash of humor felt like the first light after a storm, and for an instant, the horrors of the wasteland seemed distant.


    As Zabo released him, he recoiled with a small yelp, waving his hand from the lingering shock that had pulsed off Warren. “Ouch! Still sparking, huh?” he teased, flexing his fingers and laughing. “Looks like you’ve got more juice in you than you thought.”


    Warren shook his head, still feeling the faint buzz of residual energy humming through him. “Yeah, well, maybe next time, you’ll think twice about getting so close,” he shot back, but his tone was lighter, a reluctant appreciation for the victory they had just snatched from the jaws of terror.


    Sabir, meanwhile, was wrestling with the bike, frowning as he tried to kick-start it back to life. He muttered under his breath, hands gripping the handlebars as he gave it one last, desperate try. But suddenly, the entire bike shuddered, and with a final, resounding snap, the machine bucked them off, sending all three sprawling onto the sandy ground. The bike gave one last metallic groan before folding in on itself, reverting into the briefcase it had started as.


    Lying on their backs in the sand, they stared at the briefcase lying motionless beside them, stunned.


    Sabir broke the silence first. “Well… damn.”


    Zabo propped himself up on his elbows, looking between his friends and the briefcase, then back at the endless expanse of sand surrounding them. “So,” he said, still catching his breath. “What do we do now?”


    Warren sat up, brushing dust off his jacket as he glanced back toward the horizon. The wasteland stretched out before them, vast and merciless, but somehow less daunting with friends by his side.


    Sabir chuckled softly, a sound halfway between frustration and acceptance. “Guess we walk.”


    For a moment, none of them moved. They were bruised, battered, and exhausted, but as they sat together in the sand, sharing the same breathless relief, they realized they weren’t alone.


    Zabo gave them both a small smile, determination sparking in his eyes. “Whatever comes next… we face it together.”