The caravan's slow pace through the blasted wasteland gave Bari time to observe, to test, to breathe. Around him, the world felt hollow—shattered earth, skeletal trees twisted by ancient ruin, and the ghostly whispers of a storm brewing somewhere beyond sight.
The child they escorted walked silently, clutching her small dagger, eyes distant but alert. No words passed between them, but Bari sensed the currents shifting around her—the pull of something divine, something that drew unseen eyes. The wind itself seemed to twitch with expectation.
***
Day One — First Dance with the Wind:
The sun hung low when shadows flickered at the edge of the trees—small, skittering nightmare creatures, their forms flickering between shapes, eyes glowing with unnatural hunger. They burst forth, snarling and circling.
Bari's senses flared. Without fully thinking, he stretched out his hand, focusing inward, feeling the subtle stirrings in the air—the breath of the wind, the faintest tremors before the creatures struck.
A sudden breeze curled around his blade, sharpening it with a cutting edge of air. As the beasts lunged, Bari moved with a slashing arc, sending crescent-shaped gusts slicing through their ranks.
He phased briefly into the wind, a ghost among shadows, avoiding a claw swipe, then reappeared behind a snarling fiend, his blade biting deep. His heart hammered. The rush was intoxicating—but the effort drained him. He staggered, breath ragged as he heard the spell comment on his kills.
[You have slain a dormant beast, midnight wraith.]
[You have slain a dormant beast, midnight wraith.]
[You have slain a dormant beast, midnight wraith.]
Riven's voice broke through the haze: "You alright, Bari? Don't burn out on your first fight."
Bari nodded, forcing steadiness. The others exchanged glances—uncertain, impressed, wary.
***
Day Two — Gale Step and Quiet Tensions:
The following morning, Bari and Dren scouted ahead, tracing the edge of the twisted forest. Bari's nerves tightened as a rustle betrayed approaching danger.
A snarling beast leapt from the underbrush, jaws snapping.
Bari lunged to intercept—but instincts surged. He vanished in a rush of air, teleporting meters away in a flash of swirling wind.
Dren's eyes widened. "You can do that?"
"I didn't mean to," Bari admitted, heart pounding.
Later, at camp, the tension spilled over.
"Why hide what you can do?" Yaru asked, flicking her blade idly.
"It's not hiding; there's a reason as to why I haven't used it so far." Bari said, eyes flickering to the firelight, "I'm still learning to use it mid-combat, plus it's taxing"
Riven grunted. "We all have shadows. But the gods don't hand out power without cost. Don't be careless then, this seems like it's going to be a stretch."
The child watched silently as we pounced on the beast, her gaze heavy and unreadable.
***
Day Three — Storm's Will Unleashed:
By midday, they reached a yawning chasm, a jagged scar in the earth. Wings beat high above—a massive creature circling, eyes like burning coals.
Bari raised his hands, focusing. The air thickened, charged with tension. Gusts whipped around the chasm's edge, buffeting the creature's flight, confusing it.
It screeched, struggling against the sudden storm. Bari pushed harder, the wind lashing like a whip, forcing the beast toward the cliffs. With a final gust, it tumbled into the void.
Breathless, Bari collapsed, the group surrounding him in wary silence as the spell commented on his tireless kill.
[You have slaying a dormant monster, hill hound]
The nightmare creatures were as terrifying as was describe in the novel, truly worthy of their name as nightmare beasts.
Night fell with distant howls echoing through the darkness, the rumble of something far larger stirring beneath the earth.
***
Dawn — The Ruined City Awaits:
On the fourth morning, the group crested a ridge. Below, the ruined city lay shrouded in mist and shadow—the shattered stones of forgotten walls and towers swallowed by creeping ivy and gloom.
The child's face went pale. "I hear them... the whispers."
Bari felt the wind tug at him—a silent call, a challenge.
He gripped the hilt of his blade, breath steadying.
Whatever waited in that city, the storm was coming.