Night cloaked the land in silence as Aarav and his strike team moved through the twisted forest near the Crimson Vale—where one of the Elders' hidden outposts pulsed with cursed magic.
Kieran, Nyssa, Veyron, and three awakened Knights followed in tight formation. The moon above bled red through the mist, as if the world itself sensed what was coming.
"They're close," whispered Nyssa, pressing a blade to the air. "I can feel the wards crawling over my skin."
Aarav nodded. "Good. We do this fast. Clean. No survivors."
Kieran smirked. "You're in a cheery mood."
"This is just the beginning."
They emerged at the edge of a stone ridge overlooking the outpost. The structure was carved into the side of a cliff, guarded by black-armored Revenants. Twisted versions of vampires—flesh sewn with runes, eyes hollow, fangs permanently exposed.
"I count twelve at the gates," Veyron murmured. "But there'll be more inside."
Aarav closed his eyes. He didn't need to count. He could feel them. And he could feel her.
Rhea's blood. Dim, but alive. Nearby.
"I'm going in first," he said.
Nyssa stepped forward. "Then we follow your lead."
Aarav drew his blade—the ancient weapon forged from starlight and bone. As he leapt from the ridge, time seemed to shudder.
He landed among the Revenants like a storm. One swing, and two fell, split open by pure power.
Alarms rang.
The battle erupted.
Knights dropped from the shadows, cutting through the enemy like fire through dry leaves. Nyssa's blades danced, silver arcs of death. Veyron unleashed a burst of shadowflame, engulfing three guards in screams.
Inside the outpost, Aarav charged through the blood-marked halls. He passed cells, rituals, screaming prisoners.
Then—he sensed her.
Behind a blackstone door engraved with Elder sigils, Rhea lay bound, her skin pale, her energy weak—but her heart steady.
Aarav slammed his palm against the seal. The magic fought him, clawing into his veins. But his blood overpowered it. The door exploded inward.
Rhea looked up, her eyes wide. "Aarav…"
He was at her side in seconds, tearing through her bindings. She fell into his arms, trembling—but alive.
"I came for you," he whispered.
"I knew you would."
But before they could move, the walls shook.
A new presence filled the chamber. Cold. Ancient.
A shadow walked through the flames behind them—Vael. One of the three High Elders. His eyes were like pits of eternity.
"How touching," Vael said, voice like broken ice. "But you're too late. She's already marked."
Rhea gasped. A dark sigil burned on her neck, pulsing with Eldritch energy.
Aarav turned, his blade rising. "Then I'll unmark her—with your blood."
To be continued…