Chapter 34: The Rising Tide
Morning came slow and grey, sunlight struggling to pierce the dense canopy above. The air was damp, clinging to their skin with a chill that bit through armor and cloth alike. Lyrian blinked awake, the aches of yesterday's battles settling deep into his bones. Around him, the others were stirring—faces drawn and tired but eyes steeled with determination.
They had found a hollow between twisted roots to rest for the night, concealed from prying eyes and prowling beasts. It wasn't much, but the respite had been enough to catch their breath, tend to wounds, and dull the edge of exhaustion.
Elyreina leaned against a trunk, sharpening her dagger with slow, precise strokes. Dark strands of hair hung loose around her face, shadows clinging to the hollows beneath her eyes. Dorian was muttering curses at a tear in his cloak, fingers glowing faintly with spatial energy as he attempted a makeshift patch. Reynard, however, was already on his feet, peering into the gloom with a restless eagerness that bordered on reckless.
"Can you not fidget this early?" Dorian grumbled, scowling over his shoulder.
Reynard smirked, flipping a crystal between his fingers—a deep violet shard from a beast they'd slain the night before. "Rest's over. We've got a lot more hunting to do if we want enough of these."
He tossed the crystal, and Dorian caught it with a huff, tucking it into the pouch at his side. Their collection was growing—slowly. The previous day's efforts had earned them a mix of lower and mid-tier crystals, barely enough to scrape by if the trial ended soon. They needed more—stronger beasts, higher-tier cores.
Lyrian rose, testing the weight of his sword before sheathing it. The Evernight Ember stirred faintly beneath his skin, a restless pulse of dark fire. He exhaled slowly, centering himself.
"Let's move," he said, voice quiet but firm.
—---
The forest seemed darker than before, the light fractured and uneven where it fell between branches. Mist coiled at their feet, muffling sound and turning every shadow into a threat. It was eerily silent, save for the crunch of leaves beneath their boots and the whisper of wind through branches.
Reynard led the way with an unspoken urgency, eyes sharp and fixed forward. Dorian rolled his eyes but followed without protest, spatial energy flickering at his fingertips.
They hadn't made it far before the first growl echoed—low and guttural, followed by the snap of branches.
Lyrian halted, hand instinctively tightening on his sword. Elyreina's eyes narrowed, dagger gleaming as she shifted into a defensive stance. The shadows ahead warped, branches quivering as if something vast was weaving between them.
The first beast burst through with a snarl—thick fur matted and eyes a sickly yellow. Its body was low-slung and sinewy, claws digging furrows into the earth as it lunged. Not a King-Tier, but close—an advanced-tier beast, raw power rippling beneath its hide.
And behind it came more. Dozens. A swarm of them, eyes glinting and fangs bared.
"Well, that's not ominous at all," Dorian muttered, eyes wide.
Reynard's grin was fierce. "We can take them."
"You're out of your mind," Dorian snapped.
"We don't have a choice," Reynard shot back, blade gleaming as he moved forward. Wind howled to life around him—Zephyr Dance flaring in arcs of razor-sharp air. "Unless you want to run?"
Dorian cursed but stepped forward, spatial energy rippling as a barrier snapped into place, deflecting the first beast's lunge. Claws scraped uselessly against the invisible field, and Dorian's eyes narrowed with concentration, sweat beading at his temples.
Lyrian moved in a blur, sword cleaving through fur and flesh with lethal precision. He avoided tapping into the Evernight Ember—relying instead on speed and technique, each strike deliberate and deadly. Blood sprayed, staining the ground in dark rivulets, but the beasts kept coming.
Elyreina's dagger flashed, weaving illusions that disoriented and fractured the swarm's focus. One lunged, eyes fixed on her, only to find empty air as her form shimmered and split—dagger plunging into its exposed side. Blood dripped, dark and steaming, but her breaths were sharp and uneven.
A beast broke past the line, lunging for Dorian's exposed flank. His eyes widened, spatial energy faltering—until a wind-charged blade cleaved it clean in half. Reynard smirked, boots skidding as he pivoted, blade singing with every arc.
"You're welcome!" he called over the chaos.
"Don't get cocky!" Dorian snapped back.
The swarm pressed harder, eyes gleaming with a savage hunger. For every beast they felled, two more seemed to take its place—claws raking, fangs snapping.
Lyrian grunted as a claw glanced off his side, teeth gritting against the flare of pain. His sword flashed, severing a head from shoulders, but he could feel his stamina waning—muscles straining, breaths growing heavier.
Elyreina stumbled back, dagger slipping as a claw raked across her arm, fabric tearing and blood welling dark and hot. She bit back a curse, eyes narrowing, illusions flaring with renewed vigor. One beast lunged blindly, snaring on shadows as her dagger found its throat.
Reynard's movements grew sluggish, strikes slower and less precise. Blood dripped from a gash at his temple, staining blonde strands crimson. But his eyes burned with defiance, each swing of his sword carving through fur and flesh with a desperate fury.
Dorian's breaths came harsh and ragged, spatial fields flickering erratically. A beast slammed against a barrier, and the energy shattered—claws raking across his shoulder. He staggered, hissing in pain, but forced power back into his hands, eyes narrowed and determined.
Minutes bled into an eternity—steel flashing, blood spraying, ground littered with bodies. By the time the last beast fell, they were gasping and bloodied, knees trembling with exhaustion.
Lyrian exhaled shakily, wiping blood from his blade. His side burned where claws had grazed, but he forced himself upright, eyes scanning the carnage. Corpses lay in broken heaps, fur slick with dark blood and eyes glassy.
Reynard bent over, hands on knees, chest heaving. "Okay… okay, that might've been a bad idea."
Dorian shot him a glare, clutching his shoulder. "Might've?"
Elyreina leaned against a tree, breaths shallow but even. Blood dripped steadily from her sleeve, staining the ground. Her eyes, however, were clear—sharp and assessing.
Lyrian moved, kneeling briefly to pry a crystal from the nearest corpse. It glimmered faintly, energy pulsing beneath the surface. Around them, the ground was littered with similar shards—proof of the battle hard-fought and narrowly won.
"Not bad," Reynard managed, straightening with a grimace. "If we don't bleed out first."
Elyreina snorted faintly, exhaustion tugging at her posture. "We need to move. Before more show up."
Lyrian nodded, slipping the crystal into his pouch. His eyes flickered briefly, a dark fire glinting before he smothered it—control ironclad despite the strain.
"Let's go," he murmured, voice low and steady.
They moved—bloodied, battered, but alive. And the forest watched, shadows curling at their heels, eyes gleaming in the dark.