THE ECLIPSE ORDER
Deep in the underground ruins of an abandoned cathedral, far from the watchful eyes of the Arcane Council, a secret gathering took place.
The air was thick with the scent of burning incense and ancient parchment. Shadows danced against the cracked stone walls as robed figures stood in a circle around a single, dimly glowing rune etched into the ground. The atmosphere pulsed with a dark, unshackled energy—the kind that defied the rigid laws of the Arcane Council.
At the center stood a man clad in dark, rune-etched armor, his piercing golden eyes scanning the assembled figures. His presence alone commanded silence.
"The Council believes magic exists only to be leashed," he spoke, his voice low yet filled with authority. "They preach balance, control, and servitude. But magic is meant to be free. It is not theirs to command."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the gathered rogues.
A woman with silver hair, her arms covered in arcane tattoos, stepped forward. "The Council fears what they cannot control. That is why they hunt us. That is why they brand us as heretics."
Another voice, rough and bitter, spoke from the shadows. "They claim to protect the world from darkness, but in truth, they only seek to protect their own power."
The leader raised a hand, silencing them. His gaze burned with conviction. "The Eclipse Order was not formed for conquest, nor for reckless destruction. We exist because we refuse to kneel."
He turned toward the rune on the ground, stepping closer as its glow intensified.
"The world is changing. The Forsaken have returned. The balance the Council clings to is an illusion. It is time we remind them that magic belongs to those strong enough to wield it."
A ripple of dark energy surged through the chamber, as if responding to his words.
"From the shadows, we rise."
As one, the Eclipse Order members placed their hands over their hearts and echoed his words.
"From the shadows, we rise."
Arcane Council Citadel – Inner Chamber
Inside a candle-lit, rune-carved circular chamber deep within the Citadel, the two highest-ranking members of the Arcane Council—Alden Grave, sharp-eyed, cold-blooded strategist, and Lord Varies, calm, ancient and wise—stood overlooking a floating scrying orb displaying surveillance of Elias's recent training with Dorian.
ALDEN GRAVE (tone clipped): "He's holding back."
LORD VARIES (softly, almost amused): "Or perhaps the power is holding him."
ALDEN: "Either way, this isn't working. Weeks, and we've seen only flickers. His emotions trigger it, not discipline. That's dangerous."
VARYS: "He's not ready."
ALDEN (turns): "He has to be."
He waves his hand and the orb shifts, showing a map of a nearby village—Arkwatch—marked with crimson sigils and flagged with notes: livestock drained dry, villagers vanishing, crops rotting overnight. Magical anomalies circling the village like an infection.
ALDEN: "There. Arkwatch. Something's happening. Magical readings off the charts. Possibly Eclipse Order... possibly something darker."
VARIES (narrowing his eyes): "You want to send Elias?"
ALDEN: "Yes. Him, Dorian, and two other field magician . Let's see how he reacts in the real world. Let the world hit him. Maybe then we'll see what the hell is truly inside him."
VARIES (with a heavy breath): "If he loses control..."
ALDEN: "Then we'll learn what kind of monster we've awakened."
Silence hangs for a moment.
VARIES (low): "Then so be it. I'll inform the scouts. He leaves tomorrow."
VARIES : " Lets list other two magicians Logan pierce and Faith Lockhart ."
Alden Graves nods.
Arkwatch Village
The wind howls across the empty farmland. Smoke clings to the horizon as if choking the sky itself. The protective wards that once shimmered around the village are shattered. An abandoned well, the ropes soaked in dried blood. Crows peck at a twitching limb in the mud.
A torn corpse slumps against a crooked fence. Flesh peeled from its face, ribs cracked open as if pried apart by claws.
Suddenly—a screech.
A villager runs, limping, terrified. Breath ragged. She looks over her shoulder—it's gaining on her.
Emerging from the shadows: A Thrall. Its human origin barely traceable now. Mouth sewn shut with barbed wire, eyes bleeding pitch. Its limbs move unnaturally—too fast, too wide. Its spine is arched unnaturally backward, ribcage partially exposed with glowing black veins pulsing like diseased roots.
It pounces. The scream is short-lived. Blood paints the trees.
Arcane Council Hall – War Room
DORIAN AND SCOUT MAGE ARE PRESENT THERE
Scout Mage: "Watch Village is no longer under natural control. We found ritual remains—villagers skinned, organs arranged in glyphs. Something's feeding off the fear... and turning the bodies into Thralls."
Dorian : "And the Eclipse Order?"
Scout Mage: "Likely. We found sigils in their style. One name keeps surfacing: Varik the Flayer." Known for using blood magic and skin- carving enchantments
Arcane Courtyard
The air is cold and thick with fog. A group gathers near the stables where enchanted steeds and scroll-loaded satchels await. Faith tightens her gloves. Logan leans against a column, chewing on an apple like he doesn't give a damn. Elias steps in with Dante beside him, who has his hood up and an awkward smile on his face.
Dorian (arms crossed, eyes sharp): "What the hell is he doing here?"
Elias (scratches his head): "He... insisted. Kinda hard to say no when he's standing outside your door since 5 a.m. with snacks and a 'mission playlist.'"
Dorian (glares at Dante): "This isn't a fucking school field trip. It's dangerous. Real blood, real monsters. There could be—"
Dante (stepping forward): "I know what I'm walking into, alright? I may not have flashy powers or flame-balls coming out of my ass like some people..." (glances at Logan) "But Elias is my best friend. I've seen what he went through, and I'm not letting him dive into that madness alone. You'll have to knock me out to keep me here."
Logan lets out a soft laugh, flicking his apple core into the bushes.
Logan: "Gotta say, I like the balls on this one. Kind of stupid, but it's a bold kind of stupid."
Faith (softly, to Dorian): "Let him come. He may not be a mage... but sometimes heart matters more than magic."
Dorian exhales, frustrated but quietly moved. He looks Dante dead in the eye.
Dorian: "You don't leave the perimeter. You stay behind me or Logan. You so much as flinch funny, I'm dragging your ass back by the collar."
Dante (grinning): "Deal. But don't expect me to carry any bodies unless they're under 150 pounds."
Elias (smirking): "Logan, that rules you out."
Logan: "Pfft, I'll carry your sorry corpse after you trip on a twig."
Arkwatch Village – Perimeter
The sky above is choked in gray clouds. A slow wind howls through broken wooden fences and empty barns. The group dismounts just outside the village gates — which are splintered, one door hanging by its hinges.
Dorian (stepping down, hand on his sword's hilt): "Weapons out. Stay close. Don't trust what you hear or see."
The crunch of footsteps over shattered glass and blood-stained dirt fills the silence. Flies buzz around unrecognizable chunks of flesh. The air smells like rot and iron — thick, suffocating, like it's clawing at their lungs.
Faith (eyes wide, trembling slightly): "Gods..."
They pass a livestock pen. The animals inside are torn open, bones visible, eyes glassed over — like something fed on them and left them twitching.
Dante (eyes darting around, voice shaking): "This... this wasn't a raid... this is—this is something else."
He stumbles over a torn doll lying in a pool of blood. His hands tremble. He clutches his jacket tighter.
Dante: "Elias, man... I-I'm not sure I can—"
Elias (expression tight, putting a hand on Dante's shoulder): "Stay close to me. Don't look down. Just... breathe. We'll make it through."
Logan (clicking his tongue, holding a dagger slick with residual enchantment): "Something played with its food. This wasn't quick. This was... deliberate."
A distant metal clang echoes from somewhere deeper in the village.
Faith (gripping her staff): "Did anyone hear that?"
Dorian (low and grim): "Yeah... we're not alone."
They round a corner. A trail of handprints smears the walls — all bloody, all small. A body slumps near a well. Its face is contorted in horror, ribs caved in like someone crushed it with a single blow.
Elias stops, staring.
Elias (quietly): "...what the hell did this?"
A low, animalistic growl echoes from a distant barn. Something moves. Quick. Heavy. Then gone.
Logan (grinning darkly): "Looks like it's hunting time."
Scene: Arkwatch – Central Path
The group moves carefully down a narrow alley between two crumbling stone buildings. Wind whistles through shattered windows. Dried blood marks the walls like someone was dragged screaming.
Dante (nervously scanning the shadows): "Why is it so quiet?"
A wet, dragging sound echoes behind them.
Elias: "...Did you hear—"
Before he can finish, a shriek — inhuman and guttural — tears through the air. From a collapsed shack to the left, something lunges.
A Thrall.
Its skin is stretched over protruding bones, grey and pulsing with black veins. Its jaw is unhinged unnaturally wide, filled with jagged, crooked teeth, some broken. One eye dangles, loosely connected by sinew. Blood seeps from every orifice like it's constantly weeping gore.
Its fingers are long, clawed, bent backward — as if broken and never healed. Its spine juts from its back in ridges like a serpent growing out of its body.
It charges straight for Dante.
Dante (frozen, wide-eyed): "SHIT—!"
Too slow. Too shocked. The Thrall screeches, mouth gaping as it leaps toward him.
SCHK—THUNK!
In one blur of motion, Dorian steps forward. His blade arcs — clean, brutal. The Thrall is split in half midair, gore splattering everywhere.
Dante stumbles back, drenched in hot blood. His breath hitching. His eyes wild. Bits of viscera cling to his jacket.
Faith (covering her mouth, eyes wide): "Oh my god..."
Logan (half-laughing, disturbed): "Holy hell... that thing was human once?"
The Thrall's top half writhes for a second before twitching its last. Its innards steam in the cool air.
Dorian (calm, wiping his blade on the grass): "That was a scout. The real ones are worse."
Elias stares at the corpse. Jaw clenched. A knot forming in his stomach.
Dante (wiping blood off his cheek, laughing nervously): "I-I'm good... I'm fine... I—I think I peed a little."
Arkwatch – Village Center.
The team walks deeper into the ghost village. More blood. More silence. Houses cracked open like broken ribs. And then—
Logan (pointing ahead, stunned): "Holy sh—look."
Bodies. Hundreds. All twisted. Convulsing. Groaning.
Then... they rise.
Every single villager, converted into Thralls. Grotesque, malformed mockeries of humanity. Their eyes glow a hollow, sickly green.
And above them—on the rooftop of a chapel—sits Varik the Flayer. Skin like stretched parchment, his veins visible like black ink under thin flesh. A long coat drapes behind him like shadows. His smile—too wide.
Varik (mockingly calm): "So... they sent you. Dorian . "
He stands, arms outstretched. Hundreds of Thralls behind him twitch, ready.
Varik: "This doesn't have to be ugly. I only want one thing... The Forsaken boy. Give him to me, and everyone walks away."
Logan (confused, whispering): "Forsaken? What the hell is that supposed to mean...?"
Faith (glancing toward Elias): "Wait... Elias...?"
Dorian (grim): "No deals with monsters."
Silence.
Then—
Varik (coldly):- "Very well. You've chosen death."
He flicks his hand. The Thralls SCREECH and rush forward like a wave of rot.
Battle erupts.
Screams. Blades. Blood.
Faith incinerates a Thrall midair.
Logan fights wildly, swinging his magic-blades with shaky rage.
Dorian crushes six Thralls in a blast of blue flame.
Faith incinerates three Thralls at once, skin peeling off their charred bodies.
Logan slices off limbs with pure fury, blood splattering across his face.
Dorian rips apart a Thrall's head midair using a gravity spell.
Elias throws magic blasts, each hit crushing bone and sinew.
Dante, shaking, uses a spear to pierce through one's skull.
Screams echo. Blood rains. The group fights back to back.
One by one, the Thralls fall. Some twitch. Some crawl.
And finally—
Silence.
Bodies everywhere. Blood pools. Steam rising off corpses.
Everyone's panting. Bruised. Cut
some last of thralls are remaining,
Elias stands frozen as Varik calmly walks toward him through the chaos.
Varik (voice low, deadly): "Why resist? Come with me. It's your nature. Your blood already chose a side."
Elias (angered): "Why me? What the fuck am I to you?!"
Varik (smiling): "You are what they fear. What I need. A God in the wrong hands. So... will you be wise?"
Elias' fists shake. His voice trembles—but holds.
Elias: "Go to hell."
Varik (eyes narrowing): "So be it."
The blood of thralls and dead villagers around Elias ripples.
With a motion like pulling a thread from the air, Varik draws the blood together and forms a crimson spear.
One breath.
One motion.
CRACK!
The blood-spear explodes through Elias' chest — his heart shredded, his eyes wide in frozen shock.
Blood bursts out like a fountain.
He gasps, drops to his knees, and falls.
Everyone hears it.
Faith, covered in blood, while fighting with some last of thralls looks over.
Her magic flickers. She screams—
Faith (horrified): "ELIAAAASSSS!!"
She runs. Drops to her knees. His blood already pooling. His chest—a gaping hole.
She puts her hands to the wound, healing magic glowing—flickering—failing.
Faith (sobbing): "No... no no no... come on—damn it, come on! Please!"
Logan stands behind her, stunned silent, soaked in gore, jaw trembling.
Dante drops to his knees, whispering: "He... he promised we'd walk home... Elias, man—you fucking promised!"
His voice cracks. He screams. He pounds the dirt, tears mixing with blood.
Dante (crying): "You dumb bastard—why'd you do that?! We were supposed to finish school... we were supposed to go home!"
Faith leans over Elias, her face inches from his lifeless eyes, tears falling onto his cheeks.
She whispers:
Faith (choked, trembling): "I never told you... I never told you how I felt. You idiot... You absolute idiot..."
Her hand strokes his hair. Her fingers curl against his bloodied jaw.
Faith: sobbing and crying
Dorian, enraged, appears behind Varik and binds him in arcane chains, flames flickering violently. But Varik grins, unaffected.
Varik (calmly): "It was his choice. And now... the world has truly begun to change."
END OF CHAPTER 5