The moon hung low, casting its silver light over the quiet forest. Kiel stood at the edge of the clearing, his sharp eyes scanning the dark silhouettes of trees. Every rustle of leaves made him tense—there was something wrong tonight.
From behind him, Elara approached, her steps soft as if she didn't want to break the fragile calm. "You feel it too, don't you?" she asked in a low voice.
Kiel gave a short nod. "They're close. Too close." His hand brushed the hilt of his blade, the faint glow of its enchantments pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. "The shadows have been moving differently these past nights. Like they're… watching."
Before Elara could reply, a faint whisper echoed through the trees, more felt than heard. The air thickened, and the wind carried with it the faint smell of smoke.
"Get ready," Kiel said sharply.
From the darkness, figures emerged—not in a full rush, but like predators circling prey. Black-cloaked, their faces hidden by bone-like masks, they moved with unnerving coordination. Each step seemed to sink into the earth without a sound.
One of them raised a hand, and the shadows themselves seemed to writhe along the ground, reaching out like tendrils. Elara instantly began weaving a protective ward, light spilling from her palms. "I'll keep them off you. Just… don't die."
Kiel smirked faintly. "Wasn't planning on it."
The first masked figure lunged, and Kiel's sword flashed, steel singing as it cut through the air. Sparks erupted when their blades clashed, but the enemy's movements were unnatural—jerky yet precise, as if controlled by something else entirely.
Elara's barrier flared, repelling a tendril of darkness that tried to coil around Kiel's ankle. Her voice was steady, but there was urgency in her tone. "They're using binding magic. If they catch you, you're not getting out without a fight."
"I noticed," Kiel replied through gritted teeth as he pushed his attacker back.
A second enemy came from the side, almost gliding rather than running. Kiel twisted, parrying one strike before shoving the figure away with a burst of raw force. The ground trembled beneath them, scattering loose leaves into the air.
Suddenly, a chilling voice spoke from deeper in the shadows. "You've interfered long enough, Kiel."
The forest seemed to grow darker. A tall figure stepped into view, clad in armor so black it absorbed the moonlight. His mask was different—ornate, lined with crimson markings that pulsed faintly.
Kiel's grip tightened. "You…"
The figure tilted his head. "Still alive. Good. I'd hate for this to be too easy."
Before Kiel could reply, the masked leader gestured, and the surrounding shadows surged forward like a tidal wave. Elara shouted a warning, pouring more energy into her ward, but cracks began to form in the barrier.
Kiel took a deep breath, feeling the familiar burn of energy surging through him. He stepped forward, his sword flaring with light, cutting through the advancing darkness. Each strike drove the masked figures back, but they didn't fall—they melted into the shadows only to reappear again.
"You can't win here," the leader said, his voice almost amused. "The night itself fights for me."
"Then I'll burn the night away," Kiel growled.
With a roar, he unleashed a sweeping arc of light that tore through the clearing, scattering the shadows and forcing the masked warriors to retreat. For a brief moment, the forest was still again.
But the leader remained, his crimson markings glowing brighter. "Interesting… You're stronger than I expected. But this isn't over."
And with that, he vanished into the darkness, his warriors following like wraiths.
Kiel lowered his sword, his breath coming in harsh bursts. Elara stepped beside him, her ward fading. "That was close."
"Too close," Kiel replied, still staring at where the leader had stood. "We need to move. He'll be back."
And as they slipped deeper into the forest, the shadows seemed to whisper again—this time, almost eagerly.