The Mages' Tower. Night.
Mirena ran.
Her staff glowed, casting flickering light on the stone walls. The corridors were empty, the other mages asleep in their quarters. The tower was quiet—too quiet.
The lenses had flickered. The spatial echoes were clear. The hunters were moving toward the tower. Not the guild hall. Not the strangers' rooms. The tower.
They wanted the artifact.
She burst into the workroom. Alistair was there, alone, studying the artifact. He looked up, startled.
"Mirena? What—"
"The hunters. They're coming."
Alistair's face went pale. "How close?"
Mirena moved to the table. Grabbed the artifact. "Close."
"We need to warn Grog."
"There's no time."
The window shattered.
---
The first hunter came through the glass.
Its body was solid, its red eyes burning, its claws gleaming. It landed on the table, scattering notes and lenses. The artifact flew from Mirena's hand, clattering on the floor.
Alistair raised his staff. A shield flared between them—but the hunter swiped, and the shield cracked.
Mirena raised her own staff. Lightning arced from its tip, blue and white, slamming into the hunter's chest. It staggered, hissed, but didn't fall.
"Alistair, run!"
Alistair didn't run. He raised his staff again, pouring power into the shield. The hunter pressed against it, claws scraping, red eyes burning.
Mirena's lightning struck again. And again. The hunter's skin smoked, blackened, but it didn't stop.
The second hunter came through the door.
---
It moved like smoke, appearing behind Alistair before Mirena could warn him. Its claws raked his back. He screamed, fell, his staff clattering on the stone.
"Alistair!"
Mirena turned, lightning arcing toward the second hunter. It dodged—fast—and lunged at her. She threw herself aside, rolled, came up with her staff raised.
The first hunter broke through the shield.
They were in the room. Both of them. The artifact was on the floor, pulsing faintly.
Mirena was alone.
---
The door burst open.
Grog was there, his sword in his hand, the berserker already awake. Lira was behind him, her bow drawn, an arrow nocked. Ken appeared from the shadows, his knives flashing.
Ben was next, his sword already swinging, energy slashing from the blade. Tina followed, lightning crackling around her staff. Davin teleported into the room, fire in his hands.
The hunters turned.
The battle began.
---
Grog engaged the first hunter.
His sword met its claws, sparks flying. The berserker surged. The red crept at the edges of his vision. He was stronger than the hunter—stronger than he had been in the canyon. The apple had changed him. The berserker had grown.
He drove the hunter back, blade biting into its shoulder. Dark blood sprayed. The hunter hissed, clawed at him, but Grog didn't flinch.
Lira's arrows split—one became five, five became ten. They rained down on the second hunter, forcing it to dodge, to cover, to retreat.
Ken moved through the chaos, his knives finding gaps in the hunters' defenses. Tina's lightning struck again and again, driving them back. Davin teleported behind one, fire blooming in his hands, scorching its back.
Ben's energy slashes cut through the room, forcing the hunters to separate, to defend, to fall.
They were winning.
---
The lead hunter appeared in the doorway.
It was taller than the others, its body more solid, its red eyes brighter. It had been watching. Waiting.
"Enough," it said.
The other hunters retreated to its side.
Grog raised his sword. "You're not welcome here."
The lead hunter tilted its head. "We go where we please."
"Not anymore."
The lead hunter's eyes moved to Ben, to Tina, to Davin. "We know where you are now. And we'll keep coming."
Grog's jaw tightened. "Then we'll be ready."
The lead hunter smiled. It was a thin, cold smile.
"We'll see."
It faded. The other hunters faded with it.
The room was silent.
---
Mirena knelt beside Alistair. He was alive—barely. His back was torn, his breathing shallow. His eyes were closed.
"The artifact," she said.
Grog picked it up. It was cracked, dark, still warm. "It's damaged."
"It's still working." Mirena looked at the window, the shattered glass, the dark sky beyond. "But we don't have much time."
Grog held the artifact out to Ben. "This belongs to you."
Ben stared at it. Then at Grog.
"We're not running."
"Then stay." Grog met his eyes. "Fight."
Ben took the artifact. Held it in his palm.
"We'll stay."