The Second Wake
The second night since Ezra's mana training began was colder than the last. The hut's old timber creaked in the wind, the firelight fading to embers. Shadows leaned and stretched across the walls like the claws of something lurking just beyond the door.
Ezra lay still on her mat, listening to the uneven breaths of the others. She could feel the edges of mana now—thin filaments that hummed in the air. Tonight, though, the hum was wrong. Jagged. Uneven. Like something breathing too close.
Her breath caught. The jagged pulse was inside the perimeter.
She pushed herself up, her bandaged hands trembling. Eliakim stirred across the room, his instincts pulling him from half-sleep in time to see her tense posture.
"What is it?" he whispered.
"I… I think it's here," Ezra replied, her voice barely audible.
Before anyone could ask, the door banged once—just a single, deliberate thud that echoed in the bones of the hut.
Malachi was already standing, as if he'd been waiting. His mace rested in his grip, the weapon's surface faintly glowing with a sapphire-blue light. He stepped toward the door without looking at the others.
"Stay inside," he said flatly.
The air shifted—fear thickening the small space. But the moment Malachi stepped outside, Gideon's ears twitched, his half-lycan senses catching the sound of movement circling. Not one set of footsteps. Many.
"I'm not staying in here if he's walking into a swarm," Gideon growled, rising.
He reached for his weapon—a twin-headed axe, one half molten crimson, the other icy silver, its haft glowing faintly with runes. Kaelvryn's essence pulsed through it like a heartbeat.
Ezra's breath hitched when she saw it. "That's… Kaelvryn?"
Gideon nodded. "Fused form. Won't last forever."
Caleb moved toward the window slit, muttering a druidic incantation under his breath. But Eliakim didn't move toward his dagger rack. His right hand was already flexing, the dull metal of his demon-forged manacles catching the dim light.
Three looped chains dangled loosely from the finger rings, but they didn't hang like dead metal—they swayed in slow, predatory arcs, as if tasting the air. Ezra swallowed. She'd seen him use them in practice, but never like this.
The pounding started—not on the door this time, but all around the hut. Scratching, dragging, the soft thud of weight shifting on the ground. Ezra could feel them through her mana sense, the jagged signatures converging like hungry sparks.
Malachi's voice rang from outside. "They've found the scent again."
Then the first one lunged.
It burst through the wall near the back corner, wood splintering. The thing was pale and wet-looking, skin stretched tight over a long spine. Black, thorn-like spines jutted from its back, each one trembling like it wanted to leap free.
The group scattered.
Eliakim's chains snapped forward with a metallic hiss, wrapping around the creature's midsection before it even hit the floor. The links tightened like a living serpent, cutting deep into its flesh. With a sharp jerk of his arm, he slammed it into the ground so hard the floorboards cracked.
Gideon swung next, the crimson half of his axe biting into a second creature's ribcage, molten sparks flaring from the impact. He twisted, letting Kaelvryn's silver edge finish the kill in a clean arc.
Another pale beast skittered along the ceiling, its claws clicking like nails on glass. Eliakim's chains shot upward, one loop catching its neck, another its hind limb. With a flick, he yanked them in opposite directions—snapping the thing in half midair. The chains retracted with a wet hiss, the black metal glistening with ichor.
Caleb shouted a warning as three more forced their way in—two low and fast, one leaping high. Vines erupted from the floor at Caleb's call, tangling the low pair just long enough for Eliakim to lash his chains around their throats, dragging them together and smashing their skulls into each other.
Malachi reappeared in the doorway, his Saphir Maul glowing brighter now, the sapphire head pulsing with restrained power. He swung once, and the mace crushed through the leaping monster's torso, the blow so heavy it sent ripples through the air.
"They will keep coming," Malachi said over the chaos.
"Why?" Ezra shouted, ducking as a spine embedded itself into the wall beside her head.
"They're drawn to you," he said simply, before stepping forward to meet another wave.
The creatures weren't attacking in clean lines—they were pouring in, through gaps in the roof, splinters in the wall, even shoving under the warped floorboards. Eliakim's chains blurred, whipping from one target to another. He hooked a beast's arm, tore it from the socket, then sent the chain snaking around its neck to finish the job. Another chain shot outward, catching a spine mid-flight and flinging it harmlessly aside.
Gideon fought like a storm, molten fire and frost flashing in alternating arcs. Caleb's thorns pinned some, but the sheer number made the room feel smaller with every passing heartbeat.
Ezra clutched her head, her mana sense overwhelmed by the jagged swarm. Still, she forced herself to track Eliakim. His movements were precise, each chain acting like an extension of his own instincts. At times, they moved before he did, anticipating attacks as if possessed.
One creature lunged for his blind spot—and the nearest chain whipped back of its own accord, coiling around the beast's jaw and ripping it clean off before Eliakim even turned his head.
Malachi was a wall of raw force, each swing of his mace folding creatures into themselves. He didn't fight with flourish, only brutal efficiency.
And yet, even with the four of them holding their ground, the monsters kept coming.
A massive one shouldered through the wall, spines bristling like a porcupine. Its maw split open into four sections, each filled with serrated teeth. Eliakim's chains darted forward, one coiling its throat, another tangling its front limbs. The third chain snaked around a spine and yanked—ripping it free and making the beast scream in high-pitched agony. But it still pushed forward, dragging Eliakim a step across the floor.
Gideon moved to intercept, swinging both halves of his axe in a crosscut. The crimson blade sheared deep into its chest, the silver one freezing its legs in place. Caleb's vines surged up, binding it to the spot.
Eliakim pulled—hard. The chains constricted, slicing through the creature's neck in a spray of black ichor.
The floor was slick now. Breathing was harder. Ezra could hear the sound of more claws outside, too many to count.
"They're not stopping," she whispered.
"Then neither do we," Eliakim said, his chains recoiling for the next strike.
The next crash came from the roof, sending dust and splinters down. A shadow dropped into the center of the room—larger, heavier, its spines glowing faintly red.
And that… was where the fight truly started to turn.