The dim lamplight in Zalthorion's study flickered against the polished obsidian of his desk, casting long, fractured shadows over the papers strewn across its surface. His clawed fingers drummed once slowly, deliberately before curling into a fist.
The reports were stacked in a chaotic array, each one more grim than the last. Civilian death tolls. Sanctuary animal carcasses. Notes from the healers describing bodies found twisted in unnatural angles, signs of struggle etched into every limb. But most chilling were the constant observations that made his scales crawl: souls missing.
Even Morgathe had come to him, her usual frost-edged voice shaking ever so slightly.
And there, in the middle of the desk, was the paused frame from the security feed.A shadowy, skeletal silhouette emaciated, but radiating a wrongness that seemed to seep from the screen itself. The figure's proportions were almost humanoid, yet warped in ways the mind tried to reject.
The footage had always ended the same way:A violent burst of energy raw, hungry, impossible to measure obliterating the frame or corrupting the data into an incomprehensible static hiss.
Zalthorion's eyes narrowed at the still image. He could almost feel the thing's presence pressing against him, aware of being seen.
That was when the voice came.
It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.It was a cold, slithering whisper at the base of his skull familiar in the way a long-forgotten wound is familiar.
"You should have killed it when you had the chance… Zalthorion…"
His nails dug into the armrests of his chair.
"…This is your mistake… and now your people suffer for it…"
He could almost taste the smug satisfaction laced in those words. His wings twitched, jaw tightening as he forced himself not to answer, not to acknowledge. But the weight in his chest said the voice was right.
He had hesitated once.
For reasons that had seemed sound then mercy, strategy, perhaps even arrogance. And now, the blood on the reports was his.
Meanwhile, in the dim but warm glow of The Rusted Halo, the air was thick with the mingled scents of old wood, spiced liquor, and faint ozone from the ever-present neon strips lining the walls.
Nyxia lounged back in a booth, his brilliantly colored suit a sharp contrast to the scuffed metal table, one boot kicked up casually. Vidarath sat across from him, still sporting a faintly sheepish look but clearly on the mend from Cavian's earlier "discipline" the kind that left both bruised pride and sore muscles.
Dr. Wagner occupied the middle seat, goggles pushed up to his forehead, a drink in one hand and the other gesturing wildly as he recounted some impossible-sounding story about a medical experiment gone almost right.
They were laughing. Not the polite, measured kind, but the belly-deep, table-slapping kind that made other patrons glance over with smirks.
Vidarath shook his head, grinning."I swear, Wagner, half your life sounds like a series of accidents held together with duct tape and divine intervention."
"Nein!" Wagner protested between sips. "Not duct tape zipties, my boy. Much more efficient. And divine intervention… only on Tuesdays."
Nyxia nearly snorted his drink through his nose. "Gods, I missed this. Feels like forever since we could just sit down without someone trying to stab us or drag us into some interdimensional nonsense."
"Or swear jars," Vidarath muttered under his breath, earning a smug grin from Nyxia.
They clinked their glasses together in a mock toast. For a brief moment, The Rusted Halo felt like a pocket of peace a stolen hour where old friends could simply be. No enemies at the door. No politics. No shadowy figures stealing souls.
The jukebox's old melody skipped just once before continuing, but it was enough to make Nyxia's head tilt slightly.
Vidarath didn't notice at first; he was too busy telling Wagner about the time he almost crashed a skiff into Cavian's garden. Wagner was mid-laugh when the bar's warm lighting flickered, shadows stretching unnaturally across the walls.
It wasn't the usual dimming of a faulty power line. This was deeper like the shadows themselves were breathing.
The chatter in The Rusted Halo faltered. Glasses stopped clinking. A few patrons glanced toward the entrance, then away, as if afraid to acknowledge what they saw.
The door hadn't opened. No one had come in. But something was here.
A faint scraping sound began like claws dragging across old wood. Then a low, wet whisper threaded through the air, weaving between the three men's ears.
"Laughter… in the dark…"
Nyxia straightened, every shadow soldier in the room suddenly flickering into half-formed shapes. Vidarath's grin faded into something sharp, hand resting near the hilt of his blade. Wagner, goggles sliding back into place, muttered in a low tone,"Zis… is not normal bar trouble."
The lights flickered again then went out entirely.
When the emergency lanterns kicked in, the far wall was no longer solid. The brick was gone, replaced by a roiling void, and from it, an emaciated figure stepped forward, its limbs too long, its face too thin, its eyes two pits of absolute nothing.
The figure tilted its head slowly toward them."Essence… yours will do nicely."
The emaciated figure's hollow eyes locked onto Nyxia, its voice a dry rasp that scraped the very air.
"your essence has long eluded me. But now… I shall absorb it all. And through you, vengeance will be wrought upon Evolto City."
Nyxia's shadow soldiers solidified around him, dark energy crackling like a shield. He tightened his fists, determination burning in his eyes.
"You're not taking anything from me."
The figure snarled and lunged with unnatural speed, its skeletal claws slashing through the air. Nyxia dodged, but the creature was relentless its strikes grew faster, more precise, pushing Nyxia back.
Vidarath swung his void-infused blade, slicing through one of the creature's limbs, but the wound closed instantly, the figure's body flickering between decay and regeneration.
"Wagner, now!" Nyxia shouted, breath ragged.
The doctor activated a strange device that pulsed with crackling energy, sending a burst of radiant light that forced the creature to reel back.
But then the fight took a darker turn.
Nyxia suddenly staggered, clutching his chest. A cold, invasive sensation crawled through his veins the creature's claws had grazed his essence, beginning to siphon his life force.
"No…" Nyxia gasped, eyes wide with panic.
The emaciated figure began to swell, its form expanding, muscles filling in, skin smoothing out no longer a gaunt shadow of death but a towering, powerful entity radiating menace.
"My time in the shadows is over. I will reclaim my form… and with it, my vengeance."
Nyxia's shadows flickered weakly as he faltered, his strength draining fast. The creature's absorption tether glowed with cruel hunger, sapping the very core of Nyxia's being.
Just as the darkness threatened to swallow him whole, a thunderous crash echoed through the room.
An imposing figure clad in gleaming Exo-Guardian armor slammed into the creature with explosive force, sending it flying across the shattered bar.
The figure stood tall, weapon drawn and eyes blazing with resolve.
"Step away from him. This ends now."
Nyxia collapsed to one knee, gasping, shadows flickering faintly around him as the tide of battle shifted if only for a moment.
The Exo-Guardian moved with a grace that defied the heavy armor encasing his form. Each motion was precise and fluid, as if his suit was an extension of his own body rather than a burden. His hammer, massive and glowing faintly with energized runes, shifted seamlessly from one hand to the other, enabling him to switch between devastating blows and solid, calculated blocks in the blink of an eye.
With a low growl, the Guardian charged forward, closing the distance with surprising speed. The emaciated figure, now a towering and menacing presence, snarled and braced itself. The two collided with a thunderous impact that shook the very ground beneath them.
The Guardian's hammer came down like a falling star, each strike powered by an ancient blend of technology and arcane force. He smashed the creature's armored chest plate, sending sparks and fragments of corrupted flesh flying. The creature howled in rage and pain, its voice a guttural scream that echoed through the shattered room like the wail of a dying beast.
Yet the creature's resilience was terrifying. It twisted and writhed, its form fluctuating between monstrous and almost human, regeneration surging through its body like wildfire. It retaliated with vicious claws and sweeping blows, attempting to overwhelm the armored warrior with brutal ferocity.
But the Exo-Guardian was unyielding. He pivoted, using his own body as a shield, absorbing heavy strikes on his armored forearms and shoulders. Each block was a testament to his training and the power of his mechanized suit. With a swift counterattack, he slammed his hammer into the creature's side, crushing ribs and knocking the wind out of the fiend.
The creature let out a blood-curdling scream, an unearthly sound laced with fury and desperation. It staggered backward, clutching its wounded side as dark energy crackled wildly around it.
Then, in a sudden, frantic motion, the creature reached out with clawed hands and tore open a swirling rift a jagged tear in the fabric of reality, shimmering with unstable energy.
"Not today!" the Guardian roared, raising his hammer for one final, crushing blow.
The creature's scream was swallowed by the rift as it dove headfirst into the portal, vanishing into the unknown.
The rift pulsed once, twice, then snapped shut with the sound of tearing paper.
The Guardian lowered his hammer, breathing heavily beneath his helmet. His eyes scanned the empty space where the figure had stood moments before.
he said through the comms, voice steady despite the adrenaline, "are you alright?"
Nyxia, still kneeling and clutching his chest where the essence had been siphoned, nodded weakly. "Thanks to you, yes. But that… thing won't give up. Not yet."
The room settled into an uneasy silence, broken only by the distant hum of residual energy from the closed rift.