The past few days had passed like a dream—quiet, almost lazy, in the best way possible. The trio had settled into an easy routine: the stillness of the forest, interrupted only by the occasional rhythmic thrum of the forge or the heavy rumbling of the trap pits made by Gaia in the outskirts of the forest, as close to the roads as possible without making it seen by the elves who traveled the roads.
Fang, methodical and precise, had ventured out each morning, disappearing into the dense trees with Smoke and the rabbits. His hunts were becoming routine now, almost meditative, his movements a fluid part of the natural world, his shadow bunnies always keeping perfect formation.
Gaia, on the other hand, had found a different kind of rhythm. The land called to her in a language of roots and stones, and she answered it with precision. Each day, she'd pull the root vegetables from the garden.
Turnips piled up beside the cave, their deep, earthy scents filling the air.
Isgram spent his time refining the forge, shaping iron, hammering out rough tools into sharp, finely-tuned implements. But the most important task was yet to be revealed—something Isgram had been quietly working on in the background.
They were in the middle of their evening routine: Isgram was methodically laying out some freshly forged iron spikes, which he placed atop the cave's entrance. His eyes flickered toward Gaia as she worked her magic over a row of carrots she had just planted, her hands glowing softly with earth energy. He turned back to his work.
"How's it look?" he asked her, his voice casual but his eyes trained on the spikes.
Gaia glanced up from her task, dusting off her hands. "They're solid, Isgram. You've outdone yourself."
"These," Isgram gestured to the spikes, "are for your command. I'll mount them above the entrance. All you'll need to do is send your magic through the air and—" he made a slicing motion through the air, "they'll launch out and impale anything near the entrance."
Gaia's eyes narrowed slightly, a small smile curving her lips. "That sounds useful."
"It's a fail-safe," Isgram continued, tapping the metal spikes as he lined them up for the mounting. "If anyone comes in at night, you don't even need to get your hands dirty. Just a flick, and they're gone."
A flick of her fingers. A moment of concentrated power. And enemies impaled before they even knew what hit them.
Gaia nodded. "I'll keep that in mind." She glanced at Fang, who had been sharpening his knife in the corner, his usual quiet self. "All that iron will be very convenient if we get into a bind."
Fang didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the edge of his blade. But when he did speak, it was with a voice that carried more weight than his words. "I've been thinking about the night."
The air shifted. It was the first time in days anyone had mentioned the possibility of danger again, and the weight of it hung heavy.
Isgram paused, one hand on the final spike. "What do you mean?"
Fang's eyes, distant but focused, finally lifted. "It's been too quiet. The woods are empty of boars, something big has either hunted them or they are scared shitless."
The others exchanged looks, the briefest moment of understanding passing between them. Isgram's hand twitched toward the forge, but he didn't move. Gaia's expression remained unreadable, though her fingers flexed, readying her power.
"How long do you think we have?" Isgram asked, finally lowering the spike.
"Not long enough to sleep easy," Fang muttered.
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The twilight cast a warm, reddish hue over the clearing, and the air held a stillness that made the trees seem to breathe slower. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the trio settled into their usual positions.
Fang sat with the shadow rabbits, inspecting them one last time before the night took over. Gaia was at the edge of the clearing, tending to the root vegetables and wrapping them for storage, while Isgram continued his work on the iron spikes above the cave's entrance.
It felt like another peaceful evening. The fire flickered lazily in the center of the grove. The air was rich with the scent of soil, iron, and wild herbs.
"They're here." Said Gaia.
The first strike came swiftly. A distant crack, followed by the sound of a flaming arrow.
Fang's senses went taut, his entire body locking in readiness.
He rose, silently motioning for the rabbits to track but to stay hidden for now. Without a sound, they moved as one and went deep into the forest.
From the trees, a group of figures emerged, moving through the night like ghosts—silent, predatory. Humans. Or something close enough.
Fang narrowed his eyes. They were quick, but not quite fast enough.
A wave of shadows, dark figures moving in tandem, emerged with deadly precision. Archers. Their bows glinted in the moonlight, drawing back in sync, ready to strike.
Fang stepped back into the shadows of the cave, his dark tendrils swirling around his fingers as he observed. He had no immediate plans to get involved. He was the watcher, the observer. For now, this battle was not his.
Gaia was the first to move. Her eyes, cold and focused, narrowed at the treetops above the attackers. Without warning, she raised her hands, and a volley of stones, small but sharp as daggers, flew from the ground. Each stone embedded itself into the branches, breaking them with violent precision. The archers on the highest branches flinched, trying to keep their balance.
Isgram, seeing the threat of the archers, grinned as his hands ignited with fire. His magic flowed with the ease of long practice, flames twisting around his palms. He threw fireballs with deadly aim, each one crashing into the base of a tree where an archer had taken position. The trees erupted in bursts of flame, their bark splintering and their roots burning. The archers screamed as they were forced to jump, scrambling down the trunks or leaping into the open air, only to be met by the sharpness of Gaia's stone barrage.
The forest now roared with violence, the magic swirling in the air with the force of their combined assault. But the enemy was relentless, regrouping in the darkness and firing back.
A volley of arrows flew toward Gaia, aimed with deadly precision. Fang's eyes flared with shadows, tendrils of darkness shooting from his body. They snaked through the air, intercepting the arrows just before they could pierce Gaia's skin. He deflected them all, but it wasn't without cost—his tendrils writhed with the strain.
Gaia spun around, furious. The veins of magic pulsed in her hands, a visible aura of energy beginning to leak from her body. The ground trembled beneath her feet.
"Enough!" Gaia shouted, her voice shaking with power as she lifted her hands high into the air. She unleashed a torrent of earth magic, her energy tearing through the forest. The ground cracked wide open, and trees around the archers were ripped from their roots. The mighty oaks groaned as they were thrown aside, crashing down with deafening roars.
The archers, now disoriented and surrounded by falling trees, scrambled in panic. Some tried to flee, but the very earth itself seemed to rise up to block their escape. Gaia's magic flowed unchecked, her mana spiraling around her like a whirlwind. It was raw and chaotic.
Nothing could stand against it.
Isgram, however, was not done. He moved with purpose, leaping to the side to get a better angle, and launched fireball after fireball at the fleeing archers, creating barriers of fire that trapped them in place.
But amidst the chaos, one archer had remained hidden, a shadow in the dark. He took aim, his bowstring humming in the air, and released an arrow with deadly accuracy. The sharp sound of it cutting through the wind was all but drowned out by the rumble of Gaia's earth magic.
Fang, his tendrils still at work, felt the disturbance before he saw the arrow. In an instant, he whipped his tendrils toward it, but it was too late. The arrow struck true, digging deep into Fang's shoulder. His body jolted back, a shockwave of pain shooting through him as the world around him began to blur.
The energy in his body fizzled, and his tendrils faltered, dissolving into shadows as his legs gave way beneath him. His vision went black, the sound of the battle fading into silence as the darkness overtook him.