The night descended like a shroud, swallowing the forest in near-total darkness. Only the faint glow of Elira's wards and the soft light of the moon offered guidance. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, made the party's muscles tense, hearts pounding in synchronized alarm.
Kael moved silently, sword drawn, senses sharpened to the utmost. "Stay close. Watch each other's backs. Tonight, we're not just hunters—we're prey."
Lyrielle's keen gaze detected momentary movement out there. "Assassins," she breathed, stringing an arrow. "Not standard troops. They move like darkness. coordinated, patient."
Someone might have spoken before they could react, for a squadron of tiny, razor-sharp projectiles arrowed out of the treeline—poison-tipped darts shot at their vulnerable limbs. Rina spun, allowing the closest darts to bounce harmlessly off tree trunks, claws flashing as she attacked the shooters in the fog.
Thargrim swung his axe, bringing one of the attackers crashing to the ground, only to have another emerge from the shadows. "They've bred!" he bellowed, echo ringing through the trees.
Elira walked like a pillar of serenity in the midst of uproar, spinning wards of light and tending the superficial wounds that started accumulating. "They want us split up," she declared, voice resolute. "We mustn't allow them to divide us. Stay together. Each shadow might be an ambush."
The forest became a maze of whispers and movement. Figures emerged from the mist, striking silently, vanishing, and reappearing moments later. It was a test, Kael realized—a challenge to their coordination, their patience, and their resolve.
Kael barked orders, voice steady despite exhaustion. "Rina, flank right! Thargrim, hold the center! Lyrielle, cover the rear! Move as one, or we're dead!"
Rina's claws cut through the air, interrupting attackers before they had a chance to attack again. Lyrielle's arrows hit home in the pale glimmer of stealth spells. Thargrim's sheer power filled gaps in their formation, bulldozing through the trained beasts that followed the assassins.
But even while they battled, cryptic omens unsettled them—crows flapping away without cause, shadows moving awkwardly, and delicate, barely heard whispers that sounded like the reflection of their own thoughts. Elira scowled, realizing magical influence. "They're probing our minds as much as our bodies. Stay alert… each whisper is a tool."
Suddenly, Kael froze. A figure moved at the edge of the fog, watching but not attacking. Its presence was deliberate, calculated—a shadow within a shadow. "They're scouting us," Kael muttered. "Learning our patterns, finding our weaknesses. And soon, they'll strike where we're most vulnerable."
The party reformed, breaths strained, muscles hurting, but solidarity remained. Each attack, each close call, had pushed them to their breaking point—but also shown them their resilience. They had lasted through the night of whispers, but Kael sensed it was merely an overture.
We can't let them set the terms of the battlefield," Kael whispered, eyes squinting into the darkness. "We move at dawn. We attack, we locate him, and we put an end to this before they know we've figured their game."
Rina let out a harsh breath, dispersing the tension. "Then let them attempt it. Shadows can't hide forever."
Thargrim growled, lifting his axe. "Aye… but they're cunning. We must be cunninger.
The forest appeared to calm, but with each rustle, each whisper, there was the reminder: the shadow organization's eyes were out. Patience, precision, and solidarity were their sole friends. And out of sight, Azrak was a prize to be gained or lost, a test of loyalty and bravery yet to come to its end.