The clash of steel rang through the night air. Not whispers, not echoes — but the raw thunder of battle, sharp and unrelenting.
Rael's hand tightened around his sword hilt. "That's fighting… ahead."
The group shared a glance — tense, wordless. Then together, they moved.
Branches whipped past as they broke through the undergrowth. And then the trees opened into a clearing.
There — a ring of dryads, bark-skin glowing faintly in the moonlight, their roots shifting defensively. Against them fought figures that looked like elves… but not.
Their frames were slender, graceful even, yet wrong in subtle ways. Ears sharp, skin pale, their movements unnaturally fluid. And their eyes — a phantom glow of purplish neon — cut through the dark like burning coals.
Alice gasped. "Master… aren't elves supposed to protect the forests? Why are they—?"
Herbert's expression hardened, though his voice faltered. "They… do not look like elves I've ever known. Something isn't right."
As another clash rang out, one of the creatures lunged toward a faltering dryad.
Rael moved first. His blade flared with fire as it cut through the air, striking the attacker aside. Flames clung where steel alone would not — and the phantom-elf fell, writhing before collapsing into silence.
That single kill snapped the group into motion.
Darren roared, his axe cleaving into one enemy's chest, sending it reeling back with brute force. Lyra darted to his side, twin blades flashing in a dance of steel, striking at openings too narrow for his weapon.
Alice raised her staff, bolts of lightning crackling against the phantom-eyed foes, stunning them long enough for the others to strike.
But their weapons, their magic — none of it finished the fight. Cuts, bruises, even broken bones slowed the creatures, but they refused to fall.
Only fire bit deep. Only fire brought them down.
Herbert lifted both hands, a circle of flame swirling around him. "Stand clear!" His firestorm blasted forward, forcing three of the creatures to stagger and burn, their neon eyes dimming as they crumpled.
Rael pressed in, his left hand conjuring fire while his right swung his sword in a deadly rhythm. A blaze ignited with each strike, and where his fire touched, the enemy withered.
Together — Herbert's inferno, Rael's relentless blaze, Darren's strength, Lyra's precision, Alice's magic — they fought as one.
The phantom-eyed elves faltered. One by one, they fell. Until at last, only a few remained.
The survivors hissed — a sound too cold, too empty to belong to any living kin. Then, as though drawn by some silent call, they retreated into the forest's shadows, vanishing without a trace.
Silence settled over the clearing. The dryads, battered but unbroken, let out breaths of relief.
One of them, her wooden skin cracked and glowing faintly, stepped forward. "You fought beside us… thank you." Her voice trembled with exhaustion.
Rael lowered his sword, flame fading from his palm. "What were they?"
The dryad's eyes flickered toward the trees. "They wore the faces of elves, but something darker stirred within them. Their essence… not natural. Almost…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "I know not what to call them. Only that their kind grows more restless by the night."
Before more could be said, a soft cry carried from behind the dryads.
The group turned — and there, shielded by roots, was a small figure. A child. Pointed ears, silver hair, delicate features — unmistakably elven. Her wide eyes shimmered with tears, though no purple glow marked them. She was pure. Untouched.
Lyra's grip on her blades tightened, a faint flicker of emotion passing her face. "They were… after her."
The dryad nodded weakly. "She was what we protected." Her hand brushed the child's hair before she looked back to Rael. "Without you, we would not have held."
The child's gaze locked on Rael, clinging to him with quiet desperation, though no words left her lips.
A chill swept the clearing, not from the night but from the weight of what lingered. The forest was not safe. The battle was not over.
For somewhere beyond, in shadows unseen, those phantom eyes still watched.