On the blackstone walls, Kaela crouched low, eyes locked on the treeline where the monsters massed—twisting things, all jagged limbs and hollow eyes, their forms rippling like nightmares dragged from old gods' dreams. Mist clung to their feet, thick and pulsing, as if the earth itself bled shadow.
Valtor stood tall beside her, blade drawn, his tail lashing once in warning. His breath was steady, but his eyes—those burning, warrior's eyes—never left the advancing horde.
"Positions!" he barked. His voice cut through the tightening air like a war drum. Below, soldiers scrambled into formation, shields lifted, eyes wide but unyielding.
Lilith stepped onto the battlements, her cloak sweeping around her like ink spilling across stone. Crimson eyes glittered with sharp calculation as she assessed the battlefield. One gloved hand rose, fingers tracing a sigil in the air—small, subtle, but alive with coiling magic.
"They're testing us," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Probing for weakness."
Valtor's jaw tightened. "Then let's show them none."
Kaela's ears flicked sharply. "There—left flank."
A group of creatures broke from the mist, faster than the rest—low to the ground, skittering like wolves with too many legs. Their eyes burned pale blue as they surged toward the wall.
Lilith's hand did not lower. Her voice remained cool, precise.
"Hold."
The creatures came closer—ten strides… five.
Valtor's claws flexed around his blade. "Lilith—"
She struck.
Her hand snapped down, and from the runes hidden beneath the wall's edge, a ripple of red light erupted—screaming across the ground like a whip of liquid fire. The lead creatures howled, their forms jerking mid-charge, as blood burst from their eyes and mouths, their bodies convulsing violently before they crumpled into heaps of steaming rot.
The rest of the horde froze, as if sensing something they did not understand.
Lilith's smile was razor-thin.
"Blood answers blood," she whispered.
Valtor's roar cut through the clash. "Archers—loose!"
A sharp whistle filled the air as rows of soldiers, stationed just behind the battlements, raised their bows in perfect unison. Strings tensed—then snapped forward. Arrows flew in dark arcs, raining down into the writhing mass of monsters below. Screeches erupted as the volley struck true, pinning limbs, splitting skulls, forcing the front lines to falter and stagger back.
"Again!" Kaela barked, her voice fierce and cold.
Another volley sang through the mist—this time tipped with oil and flame. The arrows struck, and bursts of fire bloomed across the battlefield, briefly lighting the fog with hungry, flickering light.
Below, the soldiers' voices rose—a mix of fear and grim resolve—as they notched new arrows, readying for the next wave.
Lilith's gaze swept across them, sharp and approving. "Hold your nerve," she commanded, her voice slicing through the chaos like a blade. "They are leaving for now"
Kaela exhaled softly, eyes never leaving the forest's edge. "They'll regroup."
"Yes," Lilith replied. Her voice was a blade sheathed in silk. "But next time, we'll be ready."
Below, the soldiers murmured, awe and fear mixing in their voices.
Lysanthir appeared at the base of the wall then—silent, watchful. His gaze swept over the corpses, then lifted to Lilith. No words passed between them, but something moved—an understanding, heavy and absolute.
Valtor's voice came low. "This isn't the full attack."
"No," Lysanthir answered at last, his tone carved from stone. "It's only the first crack."
The mist thickened again, curling tighter around the trees. Shapes moved within it—more now. Larger. And deeper beneath the earth, far below their feet, something else watched… and waited.
And in the shadows of the longhouse, where no one yet dared look, the demon stirred—its lips curling faintly, almost a smile.
"Soon," it whispered to the dark. "Very soon."
The first creature hit the warding line.
It didn't scream. It didn't flinch. Its twisted limbs scraped against the invisible barrier, claws sparking faintly where dark magic met divine ash. Others pressed in behind it, dozens—then hundreds—piling at the wall like a tide of flesh and hunger.
Kaela crouched low, daggers ready, eyes narrowed to golden slits. "They're testing the wards," she hissed.
Valtor's jaw tightened. His claws flexed over the blackstone, itching for release. "Not for long."
Behind them, Lilith's eyes burned crimson, her cloak billowing around her like a living shadow. She stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until her fingertips brushed the rune-etched parapet.
"They're not mindless," she murmured. "They're… guided."
Her gaze flicked once toward the trees—and though the mist swirled thick, she felt it: something deeper in the dark. Watching. Waiting.
Her fingers slid into a pouch at her hip. She drew out a thin shard of bone, old and slick with dried blood, and pressed it against her palm.
"Master," she called over her shoulder, her voice low but urgent. "We need eyes beyond the mist."
Lysanthir appeared at the base of the rampart, looking up with that unreadable gaze. A single nod.
Lilith bit deep into her thumb, dragging blood across the bone's jagged edge. She whispered—a sound more breath than words—and the blood shimmered, rippling like dark water.
Her magic stretched outward, thin red threads of power weaving high into the mist. Where the threads touched, new eyes opened—small, hungry, vampiric. They darted between branches, skimming the treetops, relaying every whisper of movement back to her.
She inhaled sharply.
"They're surrounding the village," she confirmed. "Encircling us. Slow… deliberate… but they're waiting for something."
Kaela's ears twitched. "Orders?"
Lilith's gaze darkened. "Or an opening."
Valtor growled, his claws scraping gouges into the stone. "Let them come."
But Lilith shook her head. "Not yet. This isn't the real attack. This is a probe… and somewhere out there, something is commanding them."
She turned, eyes locking with Lysanthir's below. "They won't stop until they test every inch of our defense."
Kaela's tail flicked, tension coiling through her frame. "And if they find a weakness?"
Lilith's smile was sharp. Cold. "Then we show them what real predators look like."
A shriek tore through the mist—a new sound, higher, closer—and one of the creatures began clawing its way up the wall with unnatural speed, its limbs contorting as it rose.
Kaela moved first—fluid and lethal. Her daggers flashed once, twice, and the thing dropped, limbs severed, hissing as it crashed into the others below.
More screeches. More shapes pushing forward, their hunger unbroken.
Lilith's voice stayed calm, but her magic swirled higher, sharper. "We hold tonight. No mistakes."
Her eyes gleamed, and her blood-threads shimmered like spider silk across the mist. "And we watch."
Because tonight… this was only the beginning.
Lilith's gaze darkened, her fingers twitching as the mist thickened again—this time swirling unnaturally, pulling inward toward a single point at the treeline.
And then they saw it—emerging from the fog: not a beast, not a soldier. A figure draped in shadow, taller than any man, its eyes burning faintly gold.
Kaela cut through the stillness.
"…That's not a monster."
Lysanthir's voice, low and cold, finished it:
"No. That's the herald."
The wind died—and with it, every torch along the wall flicke
The torches along the wall flickered once more… and died.
A hush fell so absolute that even the groans of the monsters below seemed to fade, swallowed by the unnatural dark. Only the eyes of the herald burned on—two slits of molten gold, watching from the mist with patient, terrifying stillness.
Kaela's breath came ragged now, daggers held tight at her sides. "What… what is that thing?"
Valtor stepped forward, his voice low and edged like a drawn blade. "Something old."
Lilith's eyes narrowed, crimson and sharp. Her blood-threads recoiled, fraying as though burned by an unseen force. "No… something sent."
The herald moved at last—slow, deliberate steps that sent ripples through the mist. It raised its hand—and the monsters stilled, their claws scraping the earth but not advancing.
Then it spoke.
A voice like crushed glass and silk, threading through every soldier's skull:
"You have built walls of stone… but your faith is hollow."
Lysanthir stepped forward now, his gaze steady, voice like iron. "And you are?"
The herald tilted its head. "I am the fracture."
A pulse of shadow radiated outward, rattling the blackstone walls. Torches hissed. Soldiers staggered, clutching their weapons tighter.
Lilith's jaw clenched. "It's trying to break the wards."
Kaela's voice was sharp. "And it's working."
Valtor bared his teeth, flames flickering between them. "Let me kill it."
But Lysanthir lifted one hand—stopping him cold.
The herald's eyes burned brighter, and its next words came softer… crueler:
"lady Morveth remembers you."
Silence. Then—
Lysanthir's eyes flashed, a cold fury rising beneath his mask of calm. Lilith's breath hitched, Kaela's ears flattening tight against her skull.
Angela, from the base of the wall, whispered, horrified: "It knows…"
Before anyone could react, the herald's body began to split—cracks spidering across its form like shattering glass, gold light spilling from within.
"The hollow star will fall. And when it does… the earth will forget you ever rose."
It shattered completely—dissolving into mist and silence.
For a long moment, no one moved. No one breathed.
Then Lysanthir's voice cut through the weight of it all—quiet, deadly calm.
"Prepare the defenses."
Lilith's eyes burned. "The real war begins now."