The ridge was a knife in the land, narrow enough that only two could stand abreast. Beyond it, the westward path plunged into the fog-choked basin — the last stretch before the gate.
And waiting on it were two shapes.
They stepped out from the fog like wolves from tall grass. Both wore half-masks of blackened steel. The one on the left was tall and rope-thin, carrying a blade curved like a crescent moon. The other was shorter, broader, with spiked gauntlets glowing faintly red.
Caleb's voice was low. "Talon-pair. Watch the one on the left — that's Raviel. His blade's faster than sight. The other's Korras. If he grabs you, you won't get free."
The two Talons didn't rush. They watched. The kind of patience that only came from hundreds of kills.
Then Raviel moved.
Eliakim was already in motion. The molten-silver chains from his bracelet hissed through the air, intercepting the first flicker of Raviel's blade. Sparks lit the ridge. Raviel's eyes glinted through the mask — impressed, maybe, but not slowed. His weapon shifted mid-swing, curving around the chain to catch Eliakim at the ribs.
The chain pulsed with light. The bracelet's will flooded Eliakim's limbs, and his body moved without thought — twisting under the slash, wrapping another chain around Raviel's wrist, and yanking him into a stagger.
Korras roared and lunged at Gideon.
The twin axe fused with Kaelvryn gleamed like two worlds forged together — one head deep crimson, dripping with raw destruction; the other icy-silver, cold and surgical. Korras's gauntlets met the crimson edge first — the shockwave jolting both fighters back. The silver edge followed immediately, slicing one of the gauntlet spikes clean off.
"You hit harder than you look," Korras growled.
Gideon grinned. "I'll take that as a compliment."
They crashed together again, the ridge trembling with each blow.
Caleb hung back, the Verdant Whisper already drawn. The bow's golden-brown wood shimmered in the dim light, green veins pulsing faintly. He didn't waste arrows — each shot was a choice. One found the seam between Raviel's shoulder and mask, forcing him to shift his guard. Another clipped Korras's thigh, slowing his footwork.
The Talons tried to split their focus — and failed. The forest-will in the bowstring made sure every arrow flew where it hurt most.
Malachi waded forward like a moving wall. The Saphir Maul hummed with restrained force. Raviel tried to slip past him, only to meet a swing so heavy it shook the air. Even when the Talon dodged, the mace's impact tore chunks from the ridge, forcing both enemies to keep their balance or fall.
Korras feinted toward Caleb — Malachi stepped in, the maul's sapphire head slamming into the gauntlets and sending a ripple of blue light through them. Korras snarled and backed off, shaking out his numbed arms.
The fight narrowed to seconds.Raviel lunged at Eliakim. Chains flashed. Caleb's arrow curved past Gideon's shoulder. The crimson axe head took Korras in the side, driving him to one knee. Malachi's maul followed — the sound of cracking armor loud in the fog.
Raviel looked at Korras. A silent decision passed between them. They stepped back, retreating into the mist without a word.
The ridge fell quiet except for the four of them breathing hard.
"That," Caleb said, lowering his bow, "was just the opening bite."
And westward, through the fog, more shapes moved.