The word "Run" still echoed in my skull like a stone dropped into deep water—ripples spreading, cold and relentless. The book in my ring burned hotter than before, the heat seeping through my finger, up my arm, into my chest. I could feel it pulsing in time with my heartbeat, as if it were trying to sync with me. Or replace me.
Outside the training hall doors, the scratching had become a full assault. Not one creature. Not two. A chorus—five, six, maybe more—claws raking stone and wood in perfect, terrifying harmony. The heavy oak groaned under the pressure, splinters cracking like gunfire in the silence. Every impact shook the wards Elara had woven. Thin silver cracks spidered across the doorframe, glowing briefly before fading.
Elara stood rigid, hands still extended, feeding mana into the barrier. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the chill in the air. "They're not stopping. They're learning the wards' rhythm. We have minutes—maybe less."
Lyra paced behind me, amulet clutched tight. Green light flickered erratically across her face. "We can't run forever. They're herding us. This hall is defensible, but if they breach…"
She didn't finish. She didn't need to.
I looked at my left arm. The graze from the first watcher had stopped bleeding, but the black veins had spread farther—thin, twisting lines crawling halfway to my elbow. The skin around them was gray, numb in patches. Every heartbeat sent a fresh spike of cold fire through the wound. I flexed my fingers. They still worked. Barely.
If I fall here, they fall with me.
The thought hit harder than the pain. I'd come to them for help. I'd brought this nightmare straight to their door. And now they were standing between me and something that wanted to tear me apart—something that knew my name.
I tightened my grip on Celestite Fang. The violet blade hummed, star-flecks swirling faster, almost eager. It felt heavier than usual, like it knew what was coming.
The doors buckled again—louder this time. Wood shattered inward. A claw—longer, blacker than the first—hooked through the gap, obsidian tip scraping sparks from the silver wards. Another claw joined it. Then a third.
Elara's barrier cracked audibly. Silver threads snapped like over-stretched wire. "They're through the first layer!"
Lyra spun. "Circle up! Back to back!"
We formed a tight triangle—Elara facing the doors, Lyra to my left, me to her right. Celestite Fang gleamed in my hand, violet light casting long shadows behind us.
The doors exploded.
Six shadows poured in—low, fluid, wrong. Bigger than the first. Claws longer. Eyes burning brighter red. Forms shifting faster—cat to smoke to something with too many limbs, too many mouths. They spread out instantly, flanking, circling us like wolves around a dying fire.
One rasped: "Anomaly."
Another: "Glitch."
A third: "Tear."
A fourth: "Unwritten."
They knew me.
All of them.
My stomach dropped. How many know? How many are watching?
Elara's voice was steel. "Hold the line!"
She thrust both hands forward. Silver threads exploded outward, weaving into a second, tighter net that snapped across the room. Three watchers hit it head-on—shrieking as the silver burned into their smoke-like flesh. Black ichor sprayed, hissing where it struck the padded floor.
Lyra's amulet blazed. She slammed her palm down. A wave of green light surged outward, washing over the watchers like a tide. Two staggered, blinded, smoke peeling off their forms. One lunged blindly—straight toward me.
I didn't think.
I met it head-on.
Celestite Fang slashed upward in a tight arc. The violet blade bit deep into the watcher's flank. Black ichor exploded outward, spraying across my chest, my face. The creature screamed—high, furious—and twisted, claws raking toward me.
I ducked. Not fast enough.
The claw caught my right shoulder—deep, tearing. Pain detonated like lightning. Blood welled instantly, hot and sticky. Black veins shot outward from the wound, crawling up my neck, burning colder than ice. My vision blurred—nausea surging—but I kept my feet, blade raised.
Lyra spun. "Eryndor!"
Her light hit the watcher square in the back. It shrieked, dissolved partially into smoke, but reformed—claws swinging.
Elara's threads lashed out, wrapping its limbs. "Now!"
I lunged again—ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood dripping down my arm. Celestite Fang drove into the watcher's chest. Violet light exploded on impact. The creature convulsed, screamed, then melted completely—black smoke dissipating into nothing.
But the others were still coming.
Three more lunged at once.
Elara caught one in silver nets—tightening until it shrieked and dissolved.
Lyra's light blinded another—Elara finished it with a silver spear through its core.
The last one came for me.
I was slower now—blood loss, poison, exhaustion. The claw came in low. I blocked—barely. The impact jarred my arm, pain spiking up to my shoulder. I staggered.
Lyra shouted. "Eryndor—down!"
I dropped.
Her light beam passed over my head—hitting the watcher dead-center. It shrieked, recoiled.
Elara's threads wrapped it—tight, merciless. The creature thrashed once—twice—then dissolved.
Silence.
Heavy. Sudden.
We stood there, breathing hard.
Blood dripped from my shoulder onto the padded floor. Black veins had spread farther—up my neck, across my collarbone. The pain was constant now, cold fire under my skin.
Elara dropped to one knee beside me. "Let me see."
She took my arm—gentle but firm. Her fingers traced a healing rune over the wound. Silver light sank in, slowing the black veins, dulling the pain. It didn't stop it completely—only slowed it.
Lyra knelt on my other side, eyes wide with worry. "First your left arm, and now your right arm—It's spreading much faster this time." She pulled on my ear "you need to take better care of yourself, ERYNDOR, do you understand?"
Flinches at her scolding, and looks at the ground
"I'm sorry, i try to take better care of myself in the future"
Elara's voice was low, tense. "He'll live. But we need to purify it. Soon." She also pulled my ear " and she is right, you Reckless Brat" but then she ruffled my hair "don't make us worry, you could die on such an injury"
I looked at them—really looked. Their faces were pale, sweat-slicked, eyes sharp with concern. Not just for themselves. For me.
I swallowed. "Thank you. Both of you, and i'm sorry for making you both worry."
Lyra gave a shaky smile. "Don't thank us yet. We're not out of this."
Elara met my eyes. "You fought. You didn't run. That's more than most would do."
I looked at the claw marks on the floor—smoking, black ichor still bubbling. The book in my ring pulsed again—once, twice.
A new word whispered in my mind:
"More… coming."
Outside the doors, the scratching returned.
Louder.
Closer.