The unknown witch figure stepped to the forcefield that surround Groken. All she did was lay her palm flat on the surface and it dispersed. Like that, it was gone.
"What the-"
Zor awoke from his sleep and quickly ran to his window. The force field was down. He glared out into the distance, he didn't have time though. He ran to his orb and slammed it onto the ground. The entire province of Groken shook with an electric blue magae, a warning that they were under attack.
The witch stood where she was at the army of wolves ran passed her on all fours. The werewolves quickly ascended to the trees. Coming face to face with the pixies who wetr there, waiting.
The witch walked onward, her destination, the Groken tree. She wasn't the only witch, her covenant was behind her, waiting on her command. They walked, ignoring the battle that was before them of the wolves and pixies.
Crunch!
Zhiliary stepped onto the grass, the bright patch of land of numerous colors. She was in complete awe, finally, for the first time, able to get past just the border of Groken. And she wasn't alone, by her side was Xeno and of course her elites and behind them was...Pamoen.
The child looked scared, frighten. She coward behind Xeno but the young Omega wrapped his arm around, secretly hating that she was forced to come here, to witness this battle.
Zhiliary turned around and knelt down to Pameon. "See this, this is a battle. Maybe one day you can get promoted to an assassin." Pamoen remained quiet as Zhiliary beckoned them on.
The witch strode towards the Groken tree, boots crushing crystalline flowers underfoot. Her coven moved like shadows behind her, silent wraiths ignoring the chaos erupting around them.
High above, claws scraped bark as werewolves launched themselves at pixie archers perched among luminous branches; the wet thud of bodies hitting moss-covered ground punctuated the snarls tearing through the air. The witch inhaled deeply, magar tang mixed with spilled blood; she kept walking.
Her boots sank into the soft loam surrounding the Groken Tree's immense roots. Wisps of protective energy curled from its bark like vapor where her hand had breached the shield. She pressed her palm directly against the ancient trunk, fingertips finding grooves worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain.
The large tree, the tallest throughout the entire province stood in the center of it all. And it was just as pretty as it was deadly. She turned to look at her covenant, pulling back her hood on her cloak, revealing her face.
Even at her age, Hacate still looked so young.
Her dark brown hair glowed in the moonlight filtering through the canopy. Her eyes, like pools of liquid obsidian, scanned the Groken Tree's bark with unnerving intensity. A faint tremor ran through the earth beneath her boots, a silent protest from the ancient entity she violated. She ignored it.
Behind her, the coven stood poised, a dozen figures draped in midnight velvet, their faces hidden deep within hoods. Their collective breath hung frosty in the humid air.
It didn't take long for the wolves to lose momentum; yes, the pixies had a forcefield but they were still strong and powerful with their magae.
Zhiliary snarled, she stood on a tree branch, doing her best to aid her army. But she watched them drop and collapsed onto the ground, dead on impact. She shook her head and turned to speak with her elites team. Many of them were also fighting, but she caught something at the corner of her eye.
A pixie flying toward with green armor and an orb. She smirked at Zor as he landed on another branch, looking at her.
"Your wolves are dropping!" He yelled to her.
"I'm not blind," she retorted back.
CLASH!
She charged at him.
The air crackled with Zhiliary's fury, a palpable heat radiating from her clenched fists as she lunged across the gap between branches. Zor met her ferocity, his pixie wings blurring as he dodged her initial swipe, the wind whistling where her claws passed.
No words, only the harsh symphony of battle: the snap of twigs underfoot, the wet smack of flesh on flesh as Zhiliary's elbow caught Zor's ribs, driving the air from his lungs in a sharp gasp she ignored.
He stumbled back, the rough bark scraping his arm, his green armor gleaming dully against the dark canopy. Zhiliary pressed the assault, a relentless whirlwind of muscle and rage, her movements predatory and efficient.
Her eyes, cold and focused, tracked his every flinch, every shift in weight. The scent of crushed leaves and his metallic fear filled her nostrils. Below them, the cacophony of the larger battle, the snarls, the screams, the wet thuds of falling bodies, faded into a distant, irrelevant drumbeat.
Zhiliary came to a stop and proceeded to transform into her werewolf self wanting to destroy this man, once and for all.
Zor felt the shift before he saw it, muscles rippling beneath Zhiliary's skin like serpents coiling, bones elongating with sickening cracks that echoed sharper than the distant battle cries. Her human form blurred, consumed by wiry fur the color of storm clouds, claws unsheathing like obsidian daggers.
Daylight caught the saliva dripping from her widening jaws as she lunged, a shadow unspooling across the canopy. Zor didn't retreat.
He spun, wings humming as he vaulted backward, but not fast enough; her claws grazed his thigh, tearing through armor like parchment, leaving searing trails of pain. Blood bloomed hot against the cool night air.
He held up his orb, attempting to block her next attack, but she was fast.
Her clawed hand smashed it into fragments, sending jagged shards spraying across the mossy bark. The force slammed Zor backward; he hit the trunk hard, ribs screaming, vision swimming.
Before he could blink, Zhiliary was upon him, pinning him with crushing weight. Her hot breath reeked of copper and earth, her snarling muzzle inches from his face.
He thrashed, boots scraping desperately for purchase, fingers scrabbling at her thick fur. It was futile. Her jaws opened wide, promising oblivion. Zor closed his eyes...
CRACK, THUNK!
Zhiliary bit down on his head, cracking his skull. She proceeded to eat him, tearing off his armor all while Xeno and Pamoen watched on from a vantage point. Pamoen visibly disgusted. This was what she was training to be?