"Look, I'm not in the mood for all these battles. We just came back from visiting nations for information," the Shadow's voice slithered from nowhere, reverberating ominously in their ears. "Why don't you hand over the scroll, and we can both go our separate ways?"
Theros's grip on the scroll tightened as the words registered. The others tensed, their stances hardening into a defensive formation. The scroll was no ordinary piece of parchment; it contained the painstakingly gathered details of their espionage. Kassp had risked life and limb to telepathically extract and record critical information from the Abyss—intel vital to the kingdom's survival, information that could strengthen their defenses against the encroaching threat of the Shadowborne and the Obsidian Eye.
"Like we'd ever give it up!" Theros spat, his voice a fiery growl. "Shut up and face us like the scourge you are, coward."
Vaelora's blade sang as it left its sheath, a faint golden light rippling across its surface. She raised it with grim resolve. "Show yourself," she demanded. Rythen stood just behind her, his wide eyes darted around. "We're surrounded," he murmured, his voice shaking. "The shadows—they move like the Wraiths of the Deep. They're here."
The air turned colder. The Shadowborne, remnants of a once-dominant invasion from beyond the Abyss, were beginning to converge. These abominations were born of the Obsidian Eye's ancient malevolence, twisted in form and purpose. Long sealed beneath the ocean depths, they now answered the prince's divine cry.
"How rude," the Shadow replied, his tone dripping mock offense. "I'm no coward—I'm a pacifist. If you disagree, I could always let my underlings pass my fists." He cackled, the sound a wet, sinister echo that coiled through the water. "What do you think? I picked that up from a human kindred on the surface. Clever, isn't it?"
His laughter grated on their nerves, but none of them joined in. The water itself seemed to grow heavier with every passing second, the oppressive silence breaking only as countless glowing eyes began to light up the gloom. They appeared in pairs, like flickering flames, before stepping forward to reveal monstrous forms.
Shadowborne.
The creatures ranged in size and shape, each one grotesque in its own way—serpentine bodies with gaping maws, hulking figures with jagged limbs, and other nightmarish amalgamations that defied reason. Their movements were jerky yet unnervingly purposeful, their glowing eyes locked on the group like hungry predators sizing up a meal. Some appeared to ripple in and out of the Abyss itself, their forms distorted, leaking dark energy that seemed to warp reality around them.
The Shadow's voice returned, gleeful and mocking. "My dear prince, I am here. And so are my… associates. Allow me to introduce you to my fists—hundreds of them!" His cackle rose to a maddening crescendo.
Theros sneered, his golden eyes burning with defiance. "Bad jokes and bad company? Perfect. Time to break both!"
With a roar, Theros ignited his golden flames, the light flooding the water as his claws slashed at the nearest Shadowborne. His attack cleaved through one creature with a screeching hiss, its form dissipating into vapor. But as it fell, two more emerged to take its place, their eyes burning brighter with every second.
"Hold the line!" Vaelora commanded, her blade cutting clean arcs through the darkness. She moved like a radiant beacon, her strikes precise and unyielding. "Don't let them separate us!"
Rythen's voice rose in hurried chanting, and a shimmering barrier formed around the group. The protective light pushed back the horde momentarily, but the Shadowborne clawed and pounded against it with relentless fury. The Abyssal creatures seemed to have no end—an endless tide summoned by the Obsidian Eye's dark influence.
Durak's axe swung in brutal, earth-shaking arcs, cleaving through multiple foes with every swing. "They're endless!" he growled, his one good eye blazing with determination.
"Then we keep cutting until there's none left!" Theros shouted, his voice a rallying cry as he tore through another wave, his claws ablaze.
Yet despite their efforts, the oppressive darkness grew heavier, the Shadowborne pressing closer with each passing moment. The creatures' sheer numbers began to feel overwhelming, like an unstoppable tide. Every time they felled one, it seemed another took its place, rising from the very depths of the Abyss as if birthed from the shadows themselves.
The Shadow's voice slithered through the chaos, calm and taunting. "You should have given me the scroll, little prince. No matter. I'll pry it from your lifeless hands soon enough."
Theros's growl deepened, a fiery determination surging through his veins. "Not on my watch, shadow-breath. You'll have to kill me first!"
The battle raged on, the crew's ferocity matched only by the unrelenting waves of enemies. The scroll—and the vital knowledge it held—was more than just a prize. It was the key to their mission, their survival, and their kingdom's hope. They would protect it, no matter the cost.