A figure burst through the undergrowth, moving with inhuman speed—a silhouette cut from the fabric of twilight itself. Standing unnaturally tall, it moved with liquid grace, each step leaving faint traces of violet-black mist that dissipated seconds later. Its form was androgynous and elegant, with limbs too long and joints that bent at subtly wrong angles. The creature's skin gleamed like polished obsidian shot through with veins of starlight, neither fully solid nor entirely ethereal.
Its face was a perfect oval of midnight blue, featuring only three distinct elements: a mouth like a thin silver crescent, high cheekbones that caught light at impossible angles, and eyes—two almond-shaped pools of swirling galaxies, lacking pupils yet somehow conveying ancient awareness.
The creature wore no conventional armor but was draped in what seemed to be solidified shadow, forming patterns across its chest and shoulders that rearranged themselves when viewed directly.
Around them, the ancient forest seemed to recoil. The towering oaks and pines shrank back, their usual whispers silenced.
The creature turned its eyes on her, where she stood behind Thalon, "Fha'lear," its voice came as a hiss, the same word Amriel had heard Thalon utter when he'd collapsed in her cottage. The sound was both terrifying and yet not all at once.
Thalon's blades were in his hands without her seeing him draw them, the sharp edges glinting wickedly. "Stay behind me," he commanded.
The creature tilted its featureless head, that terrible mouth stretching into what might have been a smile. "Guardian," it said to Thalon, its voice like rocks grinding together. "Give us the Witch, and you may yet live."
Witch? All her life she'd been an herbalist, a healer who relied on plants and poultices, not Power.
She knew many witches—those rare souls born with an affinity for the Currents of Power—but Amriel had never shown a hint of such abilities. Her mother's remedies and careful teachings had been the source of her healing gifts, not magic.
Thalon's stance shifted, his body coiling like a spring. "She is under my protection," he replied, his voice resonating with power that made the air between them shimmer. "She is to go before the Keepers. Return to your master and tell him the old treaties still hold."
The creature's laughter was the sound of ice cracking over deep water. "Treaties?" It tilted its head at an impossible angle. "The Door weakens, Guardian. The Patient stir. What are treaties to those who slumbered before your kind drew breath? Give us the Witch. She is ours!"
What the hell is this thing?And what does it want with me?
Amriel's mind raced and her heart thundered inside her head.
Meeko snarled, hackles raised as he positioned himself protectively at Amriel's side. She felt rooted to the spot, emotions churning within her like leaves caught in a whirlpool—terror, confusion, and beneath it all, a strange defiance that surprised her with its intensity.
"I'll ask only once more," Thalon said, his voice dropping dangerously. "Leave. Now."
The creature's response was to lunge forward, movements unnaturally fluid, like water flowing uphill. Thalon met it with blinding speed, his twin blades singing through the air. Where they struck, the creature's form seemed to ripple and distort, as if it wasn't entirely solid.
Amriel stumbled backward, her bone blade somehow in her hand though she didn't remember drawing it.
The creature was impossibly fast, darting around Thalon's defenses, to swipe at him with elongated fingers that ended in curved talons.
Thalon spun, his blades carving silver arcs through the air. He grunted, parrying a strike that would have opened his throat.
The creature's attacks came in relentless waves, each movement flowing into the next like a dance choreographed in another world. Thalon met each strike with preternatural speed, his daggers singing as they cut through air that seemed to thicken around the creature's form. They circled each other, predator against predator, neither gaining advantage.
Amriel watched in horrified fascination, her bone blade clutched in white-knuckled hands. The forest around them had gone unnaturally still, as if the very trees held their breath. The usual chittering of irate squirrels and songs of mountain thrushes had ceased entirely, leaving an eerie silence broken only by the whistle of blades through air and the occasional grunt of exertion.
"What do I do?" she whispered, though whether to herself or Meeko, she couldn't say. Her thoughts were a tangle of bewilderment and half-formed plans. She'd spent her life tending to the sick, not fighting otherworldly horrors. Yet something in her refused to be merely a spectator to her own fate.
The forest cat pressed against her leg, his silver eyes never leaving the combat. A low growl vibrated through his massive frame, muscles tensed and ready.
The creature feinted left, then struck with impossible speed, its arm elongating as it reached for Amriel. Thalon twisted, intercepting the attack with his body rather than his blade. The creature's talons raked across his shoulder, tearing through leather and flesh alike. Blood flowed from the jagged tears.
"Thalon!" Amriel cried, instinctively stepping forward.
"Stay back!" he commanded, his voice tight with pain.
The creature paused, dark eyes narrowing. "You have changed, Guardian," it said, voice resonating with something almost like respect. "The mortal shell you wear grows stronger with each passage."
"You have no idea," Thalon said, advancing. His stance shifted subtly, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, blades held at angles that caught no light.
The creature's form rippled, its limbs elongating as it prepared to counter. Tendrils of violet-black energy coiled around its arms like serpents, condensing into razor-sharp extensions of its will.
Thalon feinted right, drawing the creature's defenses to his dominant side. The creature responded instantly, its body twisting with impossible fluidity to block. Too late, it realized the feint for what it was.
With a burst of speed that blurred his outline, Thalon pivoted on his left foot, dropping beneath the creature's extended arm. The movement was precisely calculated—executed with a dancer's grace but a predator's intent. His right arm swept upward in an arc that seemed to leave a trail of silver light in its wake.
The creature attempted to recoil, its body bending at an impossible angle that would have snapped a human spine. Fast—but not fast enough.
Thalon's blade found its mark, slipping between the shifting patterns of solidified shadow that served as the creature's armor. As steel met otherworldly flesh, Thalon whispered a word in a language Amriel didn't recognize—ancient and sharp.
The dagger burned itself into the creature's left side before it could fully evade, sinking to the hilt with a sound like crystal shattering.
A fatal wound. Amriel knew from the sight of it, her healer's eyes recognizing the depth of the strike. Yet instead of blood, something else poured from the creature's wound.
The creature shrieked—a savage sound.
"This changes nothing, Guardian." Its form began to lose cohesion, edges blurring into the shadows between trees. "The Witch belongs to us."
Then, with a sound like wind through trees, the creature dissolved into tendrils of violet-black mist that slithered away through the underbrush, leaving nothing but a lingering chill in the air.
Thalon stood motionless for several heartbeats, blades still raised, muscles coiled tight as bowstrings. Only when the last trace of mist had vanished did he finally lower his weapons, shoulders sagging with a weariness that seemed to age him before Amriel's eyes.
"It's gone. For now. But we have to get out of here," he said, sheathing his blades. "I have no doubt that the bastard will be back."
Amriel hesitated only a moment before rushing to his side. "You're hurt," she said, eyeing the torn leather of his armor where the creature's talons had struck. Her mind was a whirl of questions, but her healer's training took precedence.
"It will heal," Thalon replied, already moving to gather their scattered belongings.
"That... creature," Amriel said, the unfamiliar word sitting strangely on her tongue. "What in all the hells was that? And why did it call me a Witch?" The questions tumbled out, her voice pitched higher than normal, betraying the tremor of fear she fought to control.
Thalon slung his pack over his shoulder, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his healing wound. "That was what was stalking us last night," he said grimly. "They're called Shale, and they serve the ones who rule the Nightmares realm. As for why it named you Witch..." His emerald eyes flickered over her. "I plan to find that out. But what matters now is your safety."
"Come on, we need to keep moving." Thalon continued, already starting north at a pace that Amriel could keep up with, if just barely.
Thalon moved through the dense underbrush, just a half-step ahead of Amriel. The ease with which he moved through the brushes looked to Amriel like the forest parted way for him. Bending itself to move from his path as if they sensed his urgency.
As the hours wore on, Amriel's legs burned with exertion and her body felt worn thin, remnants of her imprisonment in the Dreadfort that lingered like shadows in her muscles and bones.
Thankfully, Thalon seemed to sense when her body had grown too weary to continue on, and stopped their march so she could rest. But only ever for a few minutes at a time.
Overhead, the sky dimmed to twilight, the sun sinking below the horizon and leaving the forest illuminated only by the soft glow of the moon and scattered stars. The lush canopy filtered the light, casting dapples of silvery shadows along their path.
It felt like they'd been walking for days when Thalon suddenly stopped, and Meeko, who walked at her side, grew still.
"Is it back?" She whispered, her voice trembled as her hand fell to the bone blade at her side.
Thalon was still injured. She could see the tears in his flesh through his damaged armour, and though he was indeed in advanced stages of healing, it would still be a hindrance in a fight against such a creature. Whether he wanted her help or not, she was ready to fight.
The warrior hushed her softly and crouched near a dense brush that rimmed a clearing in the forest, gesturing for Amriel to follow. She dropped beside him, her heart already hammered in her throat. The rustle of leaves and faint chirp of nocturnal creatures filling the silence.
Silver and green eyes reflected the moonlight as both Meeko and Thalon stared ahead, and when she turned to peer through the brushes into the clearing, Amriel's breath caught in her throat.
At the heart of the clearing stood the most magnificent bird Amriel had ever seen. It was larger than an eagle, its form elegant and poised with dignity that seemed almost sentient. Its plumage shimmered with an otherworldly iridescence, primarily a deep azure that shifted to violet and silver as it moved. Each feather appeared to be edged with a delicate luminescence that captured the moonlight and reflected it back with heightened brilliance. The bird's head was crowned with elongated feathers that formed a crest resembling a celestial crown, and its eyes—those eyes—glowed with an inner light like twin stars.
The bird moved with deliberate grace across the glade, its talons barely disturbing the carpet of ghostly moonflowers that bloomed across the clearing floor. These rare blossoms, which opened only under moonlight, created a canvas of silver-white against the darkness, their petals reflecting the moonlight with an almost phosphorescent quality. The combined effect transformed the entire clearing into a realm that seemed to exist halfway between Amriel's world and somewhere else—a pocket of enchantment carved from the Vhengal forest.
Moonlight poured into the clearing like liquid silver, seemingly concentrated by some unseen force to illuminate the space with unusual brilliance. The light created a halo effect around the bird, highlighting the subtle patterns in its feathers—patterns that seemed to move and shift like constellations when viewed directly. Where moonbeams touched the bird's wingtips, tiny motes of light scattered like stardust with each graceful movement.
"What… what is that?" Amriel whispered, her voice filled with awe. She glanced at Thalon, who crouched beside her, his sharp features illuminated by the pale glow. Meeko, her faithful companion, sat between them, his eyes fixated on the radiant creature.
"It's beauti—" she began, but Thalon cut her off.
"That's our way home," he said, his tone resolute, and before she could react, he launched himself from the brush.