The darkness wasn't absence—it was presence.A living blackness that clung to the skin, wrapped around the lungs, and pressed against the mind like a weight.
Eliakim's pupils narrowed to slits as his senses strained. He didn't rely on sight—he mapped the chamber in his head, counting heartbeats between sounds, tracking the echo of every breath and shuffle of foot.
Somewhere ahead, the shaman's voice rolled low and steady, each syllable tugging at the black fire in the braziers.
The First Assault
They didn't rush blindly—Gideon led with his axes, their red-and-blue glow cutting thin lines through the black. The light pushed back the shadows just enough for Ezra to find her targets, magic flaring in sudden bursts.
The first wave came from the ceiling—tendrils of smoke dropping like hunting spiders, coiling for their throats. Eliakim cut three down before they landed.
From the braziers, humanoid shapes began to crawl forth—more solid than the smoke-beasts they'd fought before, each wielding crude weapons of shadow.
"These aren't just guardians," Eliakim said sharply. "They're part of the ritual!"
Above Greyspire
Far above, in the Merchant Quarter of Greyspire, the streets had gone restless.
A black mist had seeped into the alleys, curling low and silent along the cobblestones.
Skyling was there—her wings cutting through the fog, eyes burning with alertness. She dove low, scattering a cluster of smoke-beasts that had cornered three civilians in a market stall. Her talons tore through them, dispersing the darkness into harmless wisps.
A guild patrol shouted from the street below."That's Skyling, right? The one from the Bug Rampage?"Another guard nodded, awe in his voice. "She's saving lives again!"
The adventurers stationed at the outer bazaar joined the fight, weapons flashing. Together with Skyling, they drove the black tendrils back toward the cracks from which they'd seeped. Above the rooftops, the moonlight glinted off her feathers like silver armor.
Underground, the Push Forward
The fight was no longer just theirs. The sound of bootsteps and steel echoed from the tunnels behind them—reinforcements from the Greyspire Adventurers' Guild.
"Figured you'd need help," a dwarf in heavy plate grunted as he bashed through a shadow-warrior. Others followed—archers, mages, and spearmen joining the fray.
Nathaniel moved like water through the chaos, his whip of rose stem and thorns snapping out in wide arcs. The weapon sang as it tore through shadow flesh, the thorns leaving trails of glowing embers where they struck.
Ezra's mana bursts shook the chamber walls, while Gideon fought like a man possessed, each swing of his glowing twin axes driving the creatures back.
With more fighters in the mix, the tide began to shift. But the shaman's chanting never faltered.
Another Part of the City
In the southern district, where the old aqueduct arches met the outer wall, more guild adventurers fought to hold the line. Civilians were being evacuated under the command of a sergeant in crimson armor.
Skyling arrived in a streak of silver and blue, smashing into a cluster of shadow-beasts mid-charge. The guards cheered, their morale lifting instantly.
"Clear the west road!" the sergeant barked. "Skyling's got the east!"
The Ritual Turns
Back underground, the remaining three braziers flared at once. The black fire twisted into spirals, converging on the shaman's outstretched hands.
The floor beneath them trembled. From the sigil's lines, a hand emerged—not made of smoke, but of something solid and glistening, like obsidian given life.
Ezra staggered back, her voice trembling. "That's… not just a summoning."
"No," Eliakim said grimly. "It's an opening."
The obsidian hand clenched. The chamber walls began to crack.And somewhere far above, the black mist thickened over Greyspire, blotting out the moon.
To be continued…