Blood in the Grain of Wood
The red-spined monster landed in the center of the room with the force of a falling boulder. The floorboards split beneath its talons, dust and splinters spiraling into the air. Its spines glowed faintly crimson, each tip weeping a faint black mist that stung the eyes.
It was bigger than the others—its arms corded with sinew, claws like hooked daggers. Its jaw unhinged wider than the rest, revealing two overlapping rows of teeth. And unlike the earlier beasts, this one didn't scream—it watched. Its eyes burned with a cruel intelligence that made the room feel smaller.
Eliakim's chains unfurled with a metallic hiss, each link glinting in the flickering firelight. Gideon stepped forward beside him, Kaelvryn's fused axe pulsing between frost and molten fire. Malachi adjusted his grip on the Saphir Maul, his stance wide, his breathing measured.
The monster moved first—blindingly fast for its size. Its spines shot out in a wide fan, each one trailing black vapor. Gideon crossed his axe in front of him, molten fire burning away those that came too close, frost freezing others mid-flight before they shattered against the walls.
Eliakim's chains darted forward, three separate strikes aimed at its limbs. Two wrapped tight, but the third clanged off its spines as the beast twisted, dragging him forward. Malachi intercepted, swinging the glowing sapphire mace in a clean arc. The impact rang like a bell, sending shockwaves through the floor and knocking the creature back a step.
"Now!" Eliakim barked.
Gideon was already in motion, the molten edge of his axe shearing into the monster's shoulder. The flesh hissed, the smell of burning ichor filling the air. The beast retaliated with a backhand swipe, sending Gideon sprawling into the wall.
Eliakim yanked hard, his chains constricting around its right leg. With a grunt, he planted his heels and pulled, trying to force it off-balance. The beast roared, spines flaring.
It was then that Eliakim saw Caleb in the corner—calm, steady, a strange staff in his hands. The shaft was smooth but knotted in places, a single green leaf sprouting from its tip. Its surface shimmered faintly, as if catching light that wasn't there.
Eliakim frowned mid-struggle. "That's not your usual weapon."
Caleb sighed, twirling the staff once. "Magical wood. I can carve one from any living tree in under a minute."
"That explains the look," Malachi muttered between blows.
Eliakim blinked. "What look?"
Caleb raised an eyebrow. "The one that makes me seem twice my age. Using it channels power straight from the earth, but the body… pays for it."
Indeed, even now, there was a subtle shift about him. His hair seemed slightly duller, faint lines appearing at the corners of his eyes, as though time itself leaned heavier on him.
"Then why use it now?" Eliakim demanded.
"Because," Caleb said simply, "this one's worth the wrinkles."
He gripped the staff in one hand, planting the tip against the floorboards. A low hum filled the room, the leaf at the top trembling. Magic flared from the staff, not like flame or lightning, but like a rush of wind through ancient trees—raw, neutral, and overwhelming.
The monster paused mid-lunge, its head jerking toward Caleb as though sensing the surge.
Caleb lifted the staff. "One-Handed Staff—attack one hundred, magic attack one hundred fifty-five. Weapon level four. Weight ten. Let's see if you can handle it."
With a smooth swing, he brought the staff forward. The leaf at the tip brightened until it was pure green light, then split into dozens of spectral copies that rained down like falling spears. Each struck the creature's hide with a burst of neutral energy, blasting away scales and leaving deep, smoking gouges.
The beast roared, stumbling back. Eliakim seized the opening, his chains wrapping around its torso to hold it in place for Malachi's overhead strike.
But the magical surge from the staff didn't fade—it grew. The floor trembled, and a ring of roots burst up through the boards around Caleb's feet, twining upward like serpents. They didn't attack, but the air thickened with power.
Eliakim risked a glance. "Caleb—you're graying."
"I told you," Caleb gritted out. "It costs to use this."
The staff pulsed again, sending a shockwave of force through the air that knocked the monster back into Gideon's reach. The warrior roared, cleaving at its exposed flank, molten and frost mingling in a deadly combination.
Caleb lowered the staff, breathing harder now. "That's all I'll risk. This body still has decades left, I'd rather not burn them all here."
He let the staff drop—already its magic was fading, the leaf curling and browning as if it had aged a century in seconds. It was nothing more than an inert stick now.
From beneath his cloak, Caleb drew a wrapped bundle. With deliberate care, he removed the cloth to reveal a bow of strange, ancient beauty.
The wood gleamed with a warm, golden-brown hue, carved with flowing patterns that seemed to move in the firelight. Tiny veins of green shimmered faintly along the curves, like sap flowing just beneath the surface. The grip was wrapped in dark leather, worn smooth by generations of use.
Eliakim's eyes narrowed. "That's not just any bow."
Caleb nodded once, his tone shifting into something almost reverent. "Verdant Whisper. Made by the Forest-Watching Tribe before the First Sundering. Passed down from my mother, and hers before her. The Elderwood Sentinel himself blessed its string. It was said to hear the heartbeat of the forest—and strike as its will demanded."
As he spoke, he ran his fingers lightly along the limbs of the bow, the faint green veins glowing brighter under his touch.
"They say," Caleb continued, "the tribe that made it stood watch over the edge of the Forgotten Wilds. When the first iron cities rose and the trees began to fall, the Verdant Whisper sang—not in words, but in warning shots that never missed their mark. It is more than a weapon—it is the will of the wild given form."
Malachi blocked a charging swipe from the monster, driving it back toward the center of the hut. "Less history," he grunted, "more arrows."
Caleb smiled faintly. "As you wish."
He drew, and the string hummed—not with the twang of mortal sinew, but with a deep, resonant tone like wind through ancient branches. The arrow he notched wasn't from his quiver—it formed as he pulled, grown instantly from living wood, its head a jagged thorn glistening with green mana.
The monster lunged.
Caleb loosed.
The arrow curved midair, slipping between two flaring spines and burying itself in the monster's left eye. The crimson glow dimmed as it screeched, stumbling back. Eliakim's chains seized the opening, coiling around its throat and one arm, dragging it sideways toward Gideon.
Gideon roared, swinging his axe in a diagonal cleave. The molten edge carved deep, the frost side locking the wound in place before the creature could heal.
Malachi advanced, his sapphire mace spinning in a tight arc before smashing down onto the creature's knee. Bone cracked, and the beast collapsed on one leg.
Caleb's second arrow sang. This one burst into a shower of tiny green shards on impact, each shard sprouting thorned vines that dug into the creature's hide, slowing its movements.
Eliakim grinned sharply. "That's more like it."
But the red-spined monster wasn't finished. With a guttural snarl, it slammed its claws into the ground. A ripple of black energy burst outward, throwing all four of them back. The spines along its back glowed brighter, pulsing in a dangerous rhythm.
"Get down!" Caleb shouted.
The monster's back arched, and in a split-second, every spine fired outward in a lethal storm. Gideon rolled under the barrage, frost forming in his wake to shield Ezra and the others. Malachi's mace spun in a defensive arc, deflecting several. Eliakim's chains lashed wildly, batting some aside but catching one in his shoulder. He hissed but stayed upright.
Caleb's next arrow wasn't grown—it was one of his few physical heirloom shafts. He drew it back until the bow's limbs creaked, the green veins along its surface blazing like lightning through wood.
"This one," he murmured, "is for the Elderwood."
He released.
The arrow tore through the air like a hawk diving, striking the monster dead center in the chest. There was no sound at impact—only a sudden explosion of light and growth. Vines erupted from the wound, wrapping around its torso and limbs, dragging it down to the splintered floor.
Eliakim's chains seized all four limbs, pulling in opposite directions. Gideon charged, molten and frost flashing in unison, bringing his axe down into the creature's exposed neck. Malachi followed with a crushing blow from above, the sapphire mace shattering bone.
The red-spined monster let out a final, wet scream as the combined force severed its head. The glow in its spines faded, the black mist dissipating.
Silence fell—broken only by the creak of the battered hut and the slow dripping of ichor to the floor.
Eliakim exhaled hard, his chains retracting in loose coils. "Next time, Caleb," he said, still catching his breath, "maybe bring both the wrinkle-stick and the bow before we're knee-deep in corpses."
Caleb only smirked, running a hand along the bow's carved limb. "But then you wouldn't get to show off your chains."
Gideon wiped his axe clean, half-grinning despite himself. "Fair. Still want to punch you, though."
Malachi rested the head of his mace on the ground, eyes narrowing at the corpse. "This one… wasn't a scout. It was waiting."
Eliakim's gaze shifted to the shattered doorway. "For what?"
Caleb's expression sobered, his fingers tightening on Verdant Whisper. "Whatever's driving them. And if the Elderwood's warnings were true… it's closer than we think."