~Ten Years Later
A stench of rot hung heavily in the air, carried even further by the wind.
This stench, horrid as it was, was familiar in a manner that would send a chill down the spine of any lesser man.
But he was no lesser man.
Kazim crouched low, his form concealed by the jagged rock. His eyes were slanted, piercing through the thick mist shrouding the valley. He could hear it, slithering through the ruins ahead, a grotesque being of malformed limbs and wet, slithering flesh.
A Shroudborn had broken through the perimeter, yet again.
The distasteful creatures. But this was its mistake, one it wouldn't live to repeat.
Kazim exhaled, the cold air curled like smoke from his lips. Not for the first time, the night was thick with tension, the ever-present hum of unease that had settled over Nirvana's Depth since the fall of the five races, a decade ago.
This land…or what was left of it, was alive in ways it shouldn't be. It was unnatural, tainted, just like everything else the Nyxborn had touched.
He had fought battles in this valley, bled for it…bled on it, and at some point, he had been prey, right here, in lands that had once been his family's heritage.
But not tonight…tonight, he was the hunter.
The Shroudborn slithered into view, between the crumbled pillars of an ancient ruin, an abomination of twisted shadows and semi-formed flesh. Its body was an incomplete thing, limbs far too long, its face a smear of shadows, and a mouth that stretched too wide, lined with writhing black tendrils.
Kazim moved with quiet precision, muscles taut beneath dark leathers. His blade, a relic from the war, glinted with ghostly blue flames. Amongst the ranks of the Nyxborn race, the Howlers and Voidforged, despite being false-blood Nyx, were intelligent beings. Even the Veilborn had some tricks.
But these?
Mindless creatures. They lived only for savagery and the hunt, their bloodthirst knew no bounds, they served no master and knew nothing of loyalty.
Shroudborns were the lowest of the low, dangerous in their unpredictability, and detested by the Pureblood Nyx for their aimless existence
Suddenly, the beast stilled. Kazim knew it had sensed him. Its head twisted in his direction, gaping maw trembling, and then it screamed.
A shriek so loud, it tore straight through the silence of the night.
Kazim was already on the move. He lunged, and he was upon the beast in a flash. His blade drove through the shifting mass, striking true despite the creature's best attempts to warp and reform.
Black ichor spilled from the wound, coating the earth like living ink. Kazim ignored the burning chill as some of it splattered on his face. Driving his boot into the creature's chest, he pinned it down.
The Shroudborn spasmed violently, desperate to dissolve into shadows and escape into the cracks of the ruins, but Kazim twisted his blade deeper, severing what passed for the creature's head. At the same time, his claws drove into its chest, ripping out the small black organ.
The only way to effectively vanquish a falseblood Nyx was by decapitation or tearing out its heart. But for good measure, Kazim preferred to do both. With a final, distorted wail, the creature disintegrated into nothingness.
Silence dawned. The kind that followed a kill.
Kazim stood, blade dripping with remnants of ichor.
Footsteps approached from behind.
"Clean kill." The voice was deep, approving.
Kazim wiped his blade clean on the fabric wound around his forearm, only then did he turn to face the speaker.
Idris, his second-in-command and shadow in war, loomed over most men, his obsidian horns curving from his skull, glowed faintly at the tips. A Duskborn warlock, with skin dark as the deep night, one of the last of his kind.
"Yet another breach." Kazim sheathed his sword. "This is what? The third in the past moon cycle?"
"The fourth." Idris grunted, glancing down at what was left of the Shroudborn. "They're getting bolder."
"They're getting desperate." came another voice, softer, with a melodic lilt to it.
Selia emerged from the shadows, her fur cloak brushing the ground. The seer's pale blue skin shimmered in the moonlight, her silver orbs shifting like the tides. Her people, the Tideborn had been the oracles of the sea, before the fall of the Mer clans. Tideborns were no fighters, but she was as deadly as any of them.
Kazim's eyes shifted between his confidants, and hunting squad. A Duskborn Warlock. A Tideborn Mer. A Feralkin (hybrid of canine and fanged), who was probably lurking around their perimeter somewhere, and a half-blooded Fae, the lookout somewhere up in the trees.
All fiercely loyal to him…a canine.
No races, no divisions. Only the Resistance.
A decade ago, such an alliance was unthinkable. The five races had spent centuries at war, driven by territorial disputes, ancient grudges and blood feuds that spanned generations.
But war had reshaped the realm, old lines of loyalty burned away in a night. The Nyxborn conquered the entire realm, they had not distinguished between Feralkin or Tideborn, between humans or the Duskborn when they slaughtered them.
And now, neither did Kazim.
A thud echoed lightly as Rovan dropped from the trees, crossing his arms. "They wouldn't be slipping through unless something was pushing them out."
Kazim's jaw tightened. He had thought about this. The Shroudborn were scavengers, parasites. They clung to the outskirts of Nether-night like starving mutts, feeding on scraps left behind by the stronger Nyx. If they were fleeing into his lands, it meant something on the other side terrified them more than the resistance.
"I hear the Nyx King has ordered a hunt for Shroudborns." Selia ran a hand over the air where the Shroudborn had disintegrated, murmuring something in her ancient tongue. The runes etched into her skin glowed softly before dimming.
"Monsters killing other monsters." Rovan murmured. "Sounds like the Nyx history book."
"The barrier is weakening." She whispered. "The boundaries between our lands and Nether-night are thinner than they should be."
A growl announced Geir's return from the perimeter, along with his brooding aura. "We should reinforce the barrier." He said firmly.
Kazim nodded, wheels turning in his mind. Reinforcing Nirvana's Depth meant pulling back hunting parties from the eastern ruins. It meant securing a stronger magic source, to build stronger wards. Stronger wards would protect against a larger breach.
And having to do any of this at all...
It meant war was stirring again.
Kazim's grip tightened on his sword. He had spent a decade fighting against the dark, carving out this last sanctuary against Nether-night. And yet, it never stopped hunting them.
He turned toward the distant fires of their encampment, where hundreds of his people waited, warriors of every race forged into one cause. They called him Alpha. Not just for his blood, but for what he had made them.
A pack. A Resistance. A last stand against the night.
And if the Nyx thought they could break through, they would learn,
Kazim was no prey.
He was the hunter.