He sprinted after the Veinborne. "Stop it! Damn it!" Zerin spat.
There was hardly time to think, and none left over to plan. Strategy went out the window once the Howler gave in to rage. Now, he could only improvise, covering wherever the beast faltered.
The antlered creature raised her staff high, slamming its pommel into the frozen earth, issuing a shrill command. At once, the lesser hags obeyed, shifting into formation, a wall to block the path.
The Howler scourged over the snow, thundering across the glade, each stride kicking up flurries. Zerin followed in its wake, drawing power from his Soul Sea. [Sanguine Surge] coursed beneath his skin, propelling him forward with unnatural speed.
Ahead, a pitiful huddle of sickly, gray, malnourished figures braced themselves. Against the living avalanche, they stood no chance.
But the Veinborne didn't smash into them. Instead, it twisted mid-charge, bursting through the gap in their formation with great precision.
Snow erupted behind it as it leapt, followed by a roar and the slash of crimson claws aimed to tear the stag apart.
Zerin skidded to a stop just short of the hags, watching the Veinborne spear towards its target.
The Frost-marked Stag stood unmoving, her glowing blue eyes serene beneath her mask.
Then, with a sudden shift, she moved.
Her sackcloth dress swayed as she took a step back, carving a rune into the bitter air to intercept the Howler's launch. The glow of the rune stung Zerin's retinas—but he was shocked to see that it read: Winter's Repose.
Crack!
Energy shattered outward in a familiar wave. Zerin bristled as the chill passed through him.
At first, he was surprised to see an impact—until he realized the Stag had formed a runic wall. Just in time, it managed to stop the Howler. But, the Veinborne's claws pierced it, coming just inches from the Stag's mask. It snarled, raising another clawed hand to stab into the barrier, straining to tear it apart.
The Stag stepped back once again with measured grace, her azure eyes trailing, with cold aim beneath her mask.
With a sweep of her staff, the barrier shattered into blue sparks—and, in that same motion, the staff cracked across the Howler's face.
A wet spray of red marking first blood.
The beast head turned back, its own blood staining its face. It peeled its lips back to reveal its sharp teeth before flashing forward at the Stag.
Zerin flinched, ripping his focus away from the Howler's clash and onto his surroundings as the Hags swarmed and encircled him.
They wore nothing but rags, even lacking weapons—only their jagged fingers tipped with filthy nails. They were almost human, yet entirely grotesque and corrupted.
And, to his surprise, unnervingly composed.
Gripping his sword tightly, he turned to guard his blind spots. They outnumbered him, six-to-one, but they didn't attack. Why?
Their minds might be crude, but even then Zerin couldn't imagine they failed to understand the advantage of numbers, especially if they could follow formations.
Were they cautious?
Once the thought entered his mind, he assumed their plan.
They had greater numbers but they were unarmed, so they wouldn't launch an all-out attack. Instead, they would wait for him to strike first and then pounce before he could recover.
Zerin smiled faintly.
They thought him as equally foolish as themselves.
It was true, he didn't possess the Howler's raw power, even with his Aspect Ability. But that didn't make him weak—not in the slightest.
He surged forth plowing through the snow faster than they expected. His blade silenced the screech of the first hag. Then with a vicious spin, he cleaved two more in half, the darkened blade cutting effortlessly.
A wonderful spray of azure lifted beneath the moonlight like a halo above his head.
He was something far worse.
The last of them lunged, their mangled fingers reaching for him. His predatory eyes flicked between them, then he cut them down in a series of slashes and stabs.
In the wash of their azure blood, he might have been surprised at how easy it was—if they weren't the perfect prey, since they were closely human. After all, Zerin was trained by a Master in the ways of combating humans, making these skills far more easily transferable than against the Palehollow or the Amalgamation he had faced before.
This was his game.
He cleaned his blackened blade with a quick flourish. His eyes glinted at the crimson eyes reflecting off the azure pool of blood. It was the first time he had truly seen himself.
Eyes burned red, driven by blood. With conscious effort he could pull back from the bloodlust. This restraint in his mind was only possible because he was not wholly forged by it—but influenced instead.
Zerin heard a loud crash and turned to face the clash between the Howler and the Stag. She flowed through its attacks with near-perfect ease, answering each strike with sharper precision—but Zerin was caught by something else: a crude reflection.
***
It was Evan who noticed.
He saw him stand motionless, as the Howler fought alone. Confusion only deepening further.
'Is he just going to stand there?!'
He held his war hammer in his hands, eyes darting between ongoing battle. The Howler was being battered, outmaneuvered at every turn by the Stag. It was terrifying to witness.
A nightmare creature so skilled it could go toe-to-toe with the Howler in combat alone.
How could Zerin just stand by? Sure, he had defeated six already, but two still remained!
Evan wanted to help. He wanted to grab his hammer and save the creature that was a new ally and his key to finding Ecludia, but he had to stay.
He needed to protect Serenity.
So he stood at a distance, watching. Unease carved itself into his face, he was rooted at his post, his body numb at the sight before him. And, the snow only began to drift heavier, muffling the world around him.
Then, a sharp cackle cut through to his right. What was once unease, soon became fear, a racing chill that ran up his spine. It couldn't be...
Slowly, he turned his head. What he was greeted with was a figure in a tattered white cloak of mixed fabrics and a pair of blue serpentine eyes under the hood.