With the Sunstone clutched tightly in his hand, its inner light warm and reassuring, Arthur began his perilous journey back to Aethelgard. The path he had taken to Mount Aegis was now a known road, and he knew that Lord Valerius would be expecting him. He had defeated the Stone Giant, but that victory would not have gone unnoticed. Valerius's magic was a web of dark consciousness, and he would have felt the destruction of his corrupted creation. Arthur was no longer just an unknown sorcerer; he was now a target, a vital threat to Valerius's ultimate victory.
The journey back was far more treacherous than the journey out. The land itself seemed to be Valerius's eyes, and every shadow seemed to hold a secret, every gust of wind a whisper of malevolence. The Sunstone, which pulsed with a soft, golden light, was a beacon in the darkness, a double-edged sword. He had to keep it hidden, or he would become an easy target. He created a magical pouch from a piece of old cloth, a small trick he had learned from Elias's book, and sealed the Sunstone inside, muting its glow. But even with the light hidden, the warmth of the magic was a presence, a small sun in the darkness.
After a full day of traveling, he had reached the forested plains that surrounded the capital. The trees here were tall and ancient, their gnarled branches providing a welcome canopy from prying eyes. As he moved through the woods, he noticed something was wrong. The forest was silent. The rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds, the soft rustle of small animals—it was all gone. A deep, unsettling quiet had settled over the land, a premonition of danger. He drew his sword, its cold steel a familiar comfort against the magical heat of the Sunstone in his pouch.
A faint, crimson glow appeared in the distance, a pair of glowing eyes that moved with an unnatural speed through the undergrowth. Then another, and another. Three figures emerged from the shadows, their forms cloaked in black. They were the Crimson Serpents, a trio of assassins who had pledged their loyalty to Lord Valerius. Their bodies were slender and wiry, their movements fluid and deadly. They carried no swords, but their hands were wrapped in shimmering red bandages that pulsed with a dark, magical energy. Their eyes, glowing a malevolent red, were fixed on Arthur. They had not come to talk.
The first Serpent struck, a blur of motion that was too fast for the eye to track. Arthur barely had time to raise his sword, and the magical bandages on the assassin's hand made contact with the steel. A dark, venomous energy, the corrupted essence of Juliana's magic, tried to seep into the sword, to weaken it, to poison him. But Arthur's pure magic fought back, a tiny spark of light on the sword's surface that repelled the darkness.
He parried the attack and ducked as the second Serpent came at him from the side. This one, a female with long, crimson hair, unleashed a flurry of magical energy from her hands, a volley of sharp, needle-like projectiles that shot toward him. Arthur, using his magic, created a small, shimmering shield of light that deflected the needles, sending them harmlessly into the trees. But the distraction was all the third Serpent needed.
The final assassin, a hulking figure of muscle and sinew, burst from the ground, his body covered in the same magical bandages. He didn't use subtle magic; he used brute force. He lunged at Arthur, his immense strength and the corrupting magic making him a terrifying opponent. Arthur, realizing he couldn't fight all three at once, decided on a different strategy. He needed to use their own magic against them.
He moved with a speed that surprised even himself, his body a blur of motion. He evaded the hulking assassin's powerful strikes, allowing the blows to land on the trees behind him, which splintered and groaned under the magical force. As he dodged, he began to chant, a low, melodic hum that resonated with the magic around him. He was not casting a spell of light, but a spell of misdirection. He was not trying to defeat them, but to confuse their senses.
He focused his magic on the forest, and the very air seemed to shift. The trees began to sway and bend, their branches seeming to grab at the assassins. The ground beneath their feet turned to mud, trapping them, and a thick fog, an illusion of his own making, began to roll in, obscuring their vision. The Crimson Serpents, creatures of pure magic, were thrown into disarray. Their senses, so attuned to the dark magic of the world, were now completely overwhelmed by Arthur's pure, deceptive spell.
Taking advantage of their confusion, Arthur didn't stop to fight. He ran. He ran as fast as he could, his heart hammering against his chest, the Sunstone in his pouch a warm, guiding presence. He ran until he saw the shimmering glow of the Shield of the Ancients on the horizon, a beacon of hope against the encroaching darkness. He had escaped the Crimson Serpents, but he knew this was just the beginning of a long and bloody war. He had the Sunstone, and now he had to use it to save his city.