Suddenly, Onish felt the darkness around him deepen, as though the night itself were closing in. The trees groaned, their twisted forms seeming to writhe in agony, their shadows alive with menace.
"Don't do anything stupid, lad. Just stay calm," Bhadra's voice came in a low whisper, steady but edged with urgency.
Before the stunned Onish, a raven as large as a boulder descended from the blackened sky, its immense wings slicing through the air with a sound like thunder. Its eyes burned red, glowing embers that pierced the gloom. Astride the colossal bird was a hooded figure, cloaked in shadow and mystery. The man dismounted with fluid grace, his gloved hand brushing the raven's head. The bird responded by rubbing its massive beak against his arm, a strangely affectionate gesture from such a fearsome creature.
"Wait here; you wouldn't like his presence," the figure said, his voice measured and calm. The raven cawed softly, its sharp, guttural sound an almost human acknowledgment. It settled back, its crimson eyes scanning the darkness as the man approached a tree unlike any other in the forest.
The tree's bark was coal-black, its veins bulging and writhing as though alive. Its blood-red leaves glowed faintly in the oppressive night. As the hooded figure drew near, the tree twisted unnaturally, its gnarled branches creaking and shifting. From its trunk, a grotesque face emerged, its features twisted in eternal rage. Bloodshot eyes, huge and menacing, glared down at the man.
"You're late, human," the face rumbled, its voice deep and guttural, reverberating through the forest.
"An emergency required my attention," the hooded man replied, his hand brushing something beneath his cloak, his tone unwavering.
"Human, abandon any foolish ideas. Let me remind you, once the Ulysses pact is sealed, there is no turning back," the face growled, its veins pulsating angrily.
"I don't need your reminders," the man retorted, stopping a few feet from the ominous tree. His voice carried a sharp edge. "And as for the emergency—it was an opportunity to bring your lord a gift. The son of Oman is still in the woods, alone with only a fowler for company. Suppose we find him before dawn. What do you think your lord would say?"
The tree's face twisted with fury, its veins pulsing like angry rivers. "He would flay you alive! Haven't you tormented Oman enough?" it thundered, the sound a physical force that made Onish's bones rattle.
Onish's mind was racing, his thoughts tumbling over one another. The son of Oman? Alone in the woods? That could only mean me. How much do they know? And what kind of monster is this djall? His heart pounded as dread clawed at him. What am I doing here? This is beyond anything I've ever faced.
"Orders were clear: observe Oman and his men," the hooded man countered. His voice was calm but laced with defiance. "But tell your lord to stop treating me like a pawn in his ever-changing schemes. If he wants my help, he'd better stop keeping me in the dark. There are ways to expose all of you without breaking the pact. You know that as well as I do."
The blood-red leaves of the tree glowed brighter, casting an eerie light over the clearing. The djall's guttural voice thundered again, a mix of rage and derision. "You dare threaten me, Djall, son of Elanor? Puny human, you forget your place!"
The hooded man stepped back, his hands glowing with a golden light. "I risk everything for empty promises while you cower behind your twisted lord. Your so-called promises have cost my ancestors their lives. Tell him his time of deceit is over."
Onish clenched his fists, his breath shallow. This hooded man—he's different. He's not afraid. How can he stand against something so terrifying? Could I ever be like that?
The djall's bloodshot eyes bulged, dark threads swirling within them. A long, gnarled branch lashed out like a whip, aiming to crush the defiant man. But the hooded figure raised a shimmering golden shield just in time. The impact sent him hurtling into the trees with a deafening crash.
The raven let out a furious caw, its massive wings beating the air as it prepared to intervene. "No, Grimma! Stay out of this! It's my fight!" the man shouted, his voice firm despite the pain.
Balancing mid-air, the hooded figure raised his glowing hands again. The air trembled as a golden sword materialized in his grip, its blade radiating an intense, otherworldly light. The jeweled hilt glinted faintly as he clasped it tightly, his eyes burning with determination.
"So, you lied. You're no falconer," the djall hissed, its voice dripping with contempt. "But it doesn't matter. You'll die as a traitor, an apostate deserving no mercy."
The djall's branches lashed out in a frenzy, whips of living wood slicing through the air. Onish, crouching beside Bhadra, held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. Despite his terror, he couldn't look away. What kind of power is this? Am I supposed to be part of this battle? Or just another victim they're hunting?
"Watch closely, lad. This is more than a fight of strength. It's a clash of wills," Bhadra whispered, his tone grave.
Onish swallowed hard, his gaze locked on the scene before him. The hooded man's golden light flared brighter, pushing back against the djall's suffocating darkness. Grimma, the raven, spread its massive wings, its eyes blazing as it prepared to act. The air trembled with anticipation, and Onish could feel it in his bones—the night was about to erupt in chaos. If they find me, will I have the strength to fight? Or will I simply disappear, another name lost in the dark?