Chapter 21: Echoes of the Astals
After days of steady travel, the group finally reached the foot of the Astal Mountain Range. The two carriages rolled beneath grey skies, surrounded by ancient trees that loomed like silent guardians. The scent of moss and pine clung to the moist air. Distant thunder whispered above the looming peaks.
Waker glanced around, unease in his voice. "I heard that it's always quiet in the Astals ... but isn't this a bit too quiet?"
Just as the words left his mouth, he tripped on a stone embedded in the path and tumbled to the ground. Sira Windemere, walking ahead, paused and said in her flat voice, "Something's wrong."
Waker scrambled to his feet, brushing off his cloak in embarrassment. "Nothing ... I just fell."
Then, trying to kick the stone aside, he stubbed his toe and let out a pained yelp. "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!"
He dropped again, holding his foot. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Sira's stoic expression.
Meanwhile, young Kiran Trelos sat in the back of the second carriage, his mother beside him as he practised reading and writing. His father, Garn, guided the first carriage with Dorn beside him. While Elyra steered the carriage. Velka was lounging on the roof of the second carriage. Ravi, Waker, and Sira patrolled around them. Tarin brought up the rear, keeping guard.
Just as they began their ascent, a rumble beneath the earth trembled through the trees.
Ravi's eyes narrowed. "Something's coming. Prepare for battle!"
In one fluid motion, he unsheathed his silver sword. The others followed suit—Sira's twin daggers flashed out, Elyra and Velka jumped on the carriage, and Tarin's spear hit the dirt with a clang.
Then they emerged.
White apes, short but muscular, burst from the forest in groups of three to five. Their glowing red eyes gleamed with feral madness as their screeches pierced the air.
One lunged at Ravi, raising its fists overhead—but a silver slash tore across its chest. The ape staggered, stunned. Ravi stepped forward, a blade piercing its heart in one clean thrust before pulling it free with a twist. The beast dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
Without pause, he charged another. Each movement was fluid and lethal, like a dancer weaving death. His silver sword shimmered with a soft, illusory white light. In moments, a second ape lost both its right leg and head. Ravi looked at others from the corner of his eyes.
Waker and Sira faced five apes together.
Waker summoned tendrils of yellow-green grass that coiled around their limbs. With raw strength, he slammed one ape into another or on the ground. Sira's figure blurred, leaving afterimages as her blades carved deep bleeding cuts. Purple blood spilt across the rocks.
"Intermediate Essence Technique: Deep Bleeding Slashes," Ravi noted inwardly.
Even without an aspect, Sira's Essence talent was evident.
Velka stood atop the carriage, summoning a wind barrier around the group. With gusting force, she bent the air into a swirling dome. She hurled small tornadoes that knocked back, charging white apes.
Elyra stood behind her, drawing a bow of essence. Each illusory arrow she loosed flickered like blue light before piercing its mark—supporting Tarin, who fought with elegant brutality. His spear became two, one thrown like a javelin. It pierced an ape clean through, embedding into a distant thick ancient tree.
Garn and Dorn defended the first carriage. Dorn's massive greatsword crushed apes with each strike. One ape managed to close in on Garn—his arms turned to stone, and he met it with a brutal counter. As the creature stumbled, Dorn cleaved it in half from behind.
Three more apes closed in from the forest — but ten fireballs materialized in the air above Dorn in an inverted V-formation.
"Essence Aspect: Small Meteor Rain!"
They shot forth like flaming comets, exploding on contact. The apes didn't even have time to scream as they were incapacitated to death.
But it wasn't over.
Wave after wave came—screeching, clawing, relentless. Their essence reserves began to run thin. Muscles ached. Breaths turned ragged. Yet none faltered. They fought through the third wave, then the fifth, then the ninth.
Finally, silence returned to the Astals.
The clearing was littered with broken trees, scorched earth, and a mountain of ape corpses. The scent of ash, blood, and sweat mingled in the air. They couldn't believe that they survived the battle, but the proof was in front of them.
Waker dropped to one knee, panting.
"We … we survived."
Ravi didn't reply. His eyes scanned the trees—expression calm, but the grip on his sword still firm.