The villagers scattered as the Black Host descended. They moved like wolves — fast, coordinated, hungry. Shadows with twisted bodies, some on all fours, others towering like beasts from ancient nightmares. Their howls cracked the air.
Alaric gripped his sword, steadying his stance. His instincts screamed to run — but his heart blazed with the fire of old battles. He charged, shield up, and met the first beast head-on.
Steel met bone. The thing shrieked as Alaric's blade cleaved through its chest. It dissolved into smoke, its body hissing into nothing.
"Unclean things…" he spat.
A second lunged. This one faster — clawed and shrieking in some tongue of the damned. It knocked him back, tore into his shield. He dropped to one knee.
Suddenly, a pulse of blue light flashed beside him. A burst of force slammed the creature into the air — where it exploded mid-flight.
Alaric turned to see a young woman with short, ash-gray hair, her hands glowing with runes etched into the air. Her expression was cold, focused
"Don't die, holy man," she muttered. "I don't want to summon another."