The forest surrounding Umbra's End whispered secrets on the wind, a place where light rarely touched the ground. Shadows danced between twisted trunks and roots that pulsed like veins beneath the soil. The scouting party—Will, Bane, and Brielle—moved silently through the gloom, senses sharp.
Brielle was the first to reach the cliff Will had marked earlier. She crouched at the edge, her raven-dark braid swaying slightly as she scanned the terrain below. The drop was steep, the valley thick with fog that clung to the treetops like ghostly fingers. Bane soon after, his usual carefree expression replaced with a rare flicker of focus.
Will was yet to arrive.
He had taken the side path, trying to flank and secure a clearer view. What he hadn't realized was that he had been hunted.
The beast moved like a phantom. Towering over eight feet, its skin was a patchwork of obsidian chitin and pulsing muscle, veins glowing with molten red. Six eyes burned with predatory intelligence, and its elongated arms ended in bladed claws, each finger curved like a sickle. Bone-like spines jutted from its back, clicking with every step.
The ambush was swift. One moment Will was pushing through a thicket—then silence snapped. The creature lunged, hurling him across the forest floor.
Will's instincts kicked in. He unleashed his hunter weapon—a whip known as Serpent's Grasp, forged from wyrmhide and laced with dusksteel. It flared with violet runes as it cracked through the air, wrapping around one of the beast's limbs. Will yanked hard, trying to throw it off balance.
It barely flinched.
"Ohh shiiit!"
With a snarl that rattled the leaves, the monster tore the whip free, its claws slashing through Will's thigh. Blood burst forth in a crimson arc as he dropped to the ground, screaming so loud the surrounding birds went flying.
Back on the cliff, Brielle's breath caught.
"what was that...sounded like a scream " Brielle said sounding worried
Bane's eyes lit up with wild excitement. "well well seems like will's having fun!"
"That sounded more agonizing than fun...u don't think—"
"Let's go find out"
They sprinted through the underbrush, leaping over roots and ducking branches. As they neared the commotion, the air was thick with blood and power.
Will was on the ground, his leg severed, skin torn, chest rising faintly.
The beast loomed, mouth splitting into a jagged grin as it raised a claw for the kill.
A blur fell from the canopy.
A cloaked figure landed soundlessly, crouched over Will like a protective shadow. In a heartbeat, he drew a black-bladed scythe etched with glowing sigils. The beast's claw descended—only for its hand to be severed cleanly at the wrist.
The monster recoiled, shrieking in rage, staring at the stump in disbelief.
Will, fading fast, looked up at his savior. "Who... are you?" he rasped.
"Hang in there," the cloaked man said, crouching beside him. "You've lost a lot of blood."
Then Will passed out.
The beast clutched its stump, eyes narrowed. "You're just a lowly human... I shall crush thee under my fist."
"I see you can talk. Good." The cloaked man cracked his knuckles, stepping forward. "I thought you'd never say a word."
The creature roared and lunged. The man dodged fluidly, slipping under its swing and darting forward with terrifying precision. His scythe sliced across its abdomen, sparks flying from the impact. A follow-up strike shattered its lower jaw.
Hidden in the trees, Brielle and Bane froze.
"What in the stars...?" Brielle whispered.
Bane could barely contain himself, his fingers twitching. "That guy... is a monster."
The beast made one last desperate charge.
Two more strikes.
One to the heart. One across the throat.
The monster collapsed, gurgling in its final breath before falling still.
"You two can come out now," the man said, turning his head slightly toward their hiding spot while wiping blood from his hands. And scythe.
They stepped out slowly. Brielle's mouth parted in disbelief. Bane's grin had returned.
The cloaked man gave them a nod. "He'll live. Barely. Find him a mage quickly and leave this place at once"
And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he vanished into the trees.
—
Elsewhere, beneath the mountains where Gondor resided, Lyria stirred.
She blinked, confused. The last thing she remembered was sitting beside the window, watching the sun rise.
Now she was tucked into a warm bed, the scent of herbs and incense thick in the air.
Her heart leapt as she sat up. Across the room, Kael lay on a cot, breathing steadily. No longer in pain.
"You're up," Gondor said from a chair near the door, a small book in hand.
She turned toward him. "I am... Did you—?"
"I carried you," he said plainly. "You were half-asleep on the windowsill. Thought you'd appreciate not waking up with a sore back."
"Thought so," she muttered with a small smile, eyes lingering on Kael.
His face looked peaceful. Vulnerable. She hadn't allowed herself to truly feel it until now, but seeing him like that, lying helpless... it scared her. She reached out instinctively, brushing his hair from his face.
"Hey, Gondor?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks for helping me out yesterday." Her voice softened.
"It's fine. Wasn't going to let you crash and burn."
She nodded, then turned to look at him more seriously. "Now that that's out of the way, I need you to explain what I saw you do yesterday. The green smoke...change in your physical appearance.. It wasn't normal."
Gondor's expression darkened slightly. He stood, walking to the door. "When Kael wakes, we'll both have questions."
As he stepped out, Lyria remained where she was, fingers still lightly resting on Kael's arm. Her heartbeat was slow, but heavy.
She leaned in, just enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
"Hey… I know it might sound selfish, but there's so much I still want to do with you."
Her fingers brushed lightly against his jaw, lingering.
"Things I've only dared to dream about…"
A soft, shaky breath.
"I don't even want to think about what I'd do if you never opened your eyes again."
She lingered there, eyes tracing the lines of his face like a prayer—like a promise.
A moment passed.
Then another.
And Lyria, for the first time in days, allowed herself to hope—for answers, for survival… and maybe, just maybe, for something more.
Something fragile.
But real.