They had little time to rest.
At dawn, the marsh erupted with chaos. Serpent cultists surged from the mist, their blades curved like fangs. At their head rode the hooded man, his cloak dripping shadows.
"The fire-bearer belongs to us," he declared, his voice carrying unnaturally far. "Hand him over, and your deaths will be swift."
Edran stood tall, staff blazing with runes. "You will not have him."
The battle that followed was swift and brutal. Mira fought like a storm, her dagger flashing silver. Edran's magic lit the swamp with lightning. Aric, weak from training, struggled to call the fire, but when he did, it exploded outward, hurling enemies into the mire.
Still, the hooded man pressed forward. He locked eyes with Aric, and for a heartbeat, Aric's fire bent toward him, as though answering his command.
"See?" the man hissed. "You are ours already."
Only Mira's blade across his arm broke the spell, forcing him to retreat with a snarl. The cult melted into the mist, leaving silence broken only by Aric's ragged breathing.