The Prince was unyielding. With each strike, it seemed to absorb their attacks, its strength an unbreakable fortress of darkness. It countered with vicious swipes of its massive limbs, sending guild members reeling back, their armor barely holding against the creature's might.
A young blacksmith, barely out of his apprenticeship, lunged forward with a cry of defiance, only to be swept aside by the creature's tail. "Fall back!" Ironhand bellowed, his heart heavy with the realization of their dire situation.
On the surface, amidst the chaos of the ongoing battle, Elara and Lily hurriedly carried Caelum to the healers' tent set up near the main battlefield. The tent, now a makeshift medical center, was bustling with activity, with healers moving swiftly among the injured. As they entered, the stark contrast between the calm, methodical work of the healers and the tumult of battle outside was striking.
The Leviathan, a gargantuan creature of the deep, was holding its own against a formidable array of fighters. Caelum, despite his weakened state, watched the battle with a tactical eye. He knew that some of these fighters were as strong as, if not stronger than, the Leviathan itself. His frown deepened as he observed the battle dynamics, his mind analyzing the situation despite the pain that wracked his body.
As they settled Caelum onto a cot, a healer approached, her eyes widening in shock at the severity of his injuries. She was a young woman, probably in her late twenties, with auburn hair tied back in a practical bun. Her green eyes, filled with concern and professionalism, scanned Caelum's battered form. Her healer's robes, marked with the emblem of Eryndor's Healing Guild, were stained with the blood and dirt of the battlefield.
Caelum, noticing her hesitation, used his Observe skill discreetly.
[System Message: Observe: Healer Aisling
Name: Aisling
Class: Lifespring Cleric (Level 7)
Skills:
Life Infusion: Accelerates healing and recovery.
Purify: Cleanses toxins and infections.
Renewal Aura: Restores vitality over time.]
Aisling, recovering from her initial shock, began to chant softly, her hands glowing with a soft, earthy light. She placed her hands over Caelum's most grievous wounds, the healing energy flowing from her fingertips into his battered body. The relief was almost immediate, though Caelum knew it would take more than a few spells to fully mend his broken bones and torn muscles.
Elara, standing by his side, watched Aisling's work with a mix of gratitude and concern. "Will he be alright?" she asked, her voice betraying her worry.
Aisling, without pausing her work, replied, "He's strong. I've not seen many survive such injuries. But he'll need time to recover fully. You've done well bringing him here."
As Aisling continued her healing, Caelum's gaze returned to the battle outside the tent. The Leviathan's monstrous form dominated the battlefield, but the fighters of Lighthaven were holding their ground, their courage and determination unyielding.
Caelum shook his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on the battlefield. 'Something's off. The Leviathan, it's strong, but some of these warriors... they're capable of more. Yet they're restrained, as if...'
At that moment, General Tarnis's voice thundered across the battlefield, cutting through the cacophony of war. "Fall back! They are falling back! Don't chase them!" His command, authoritative and urgent, reverberated through the ranks of fighters.
Caelum, despite his pain and fatigue, managed to lift his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he observed the unfolding scene. The Leviathan, that monstrous behemoth of the deep, was indeed retreating, its massive form slinking back into the murky depths from which it came. The creature bore wounds, yes, but they seemed superficial compared to the carnage it had inflicted. Something about this retreat didn't sit right with him.
In the midst of this perplexing development, Lord Alistair Redthorn, a figure of command and influence, gathered a contingent of the kingdom's soldiers. "Let's go to the sewers," he declared, his voice resonating with a determination that brooked no argument. Alongside General Tarnis, Redthorn led the troops towards the sewers, the very battleground where Caelum had faced his harrowing ordeal.
Caelum's frown deepened, a glimmer of suspicion igniting in his weary eyes. The Prince of River, a foe far more formidable than the Leviathan, still lurked in those subterranean depths. Why would Redthorn take a smaller, seemingly less prepared force to face such a threat? Something was amiss, a piece of this complex puzzle that eluded his grasp.
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, the healing magic of Aisling, the Lifespring Cleric, began to take effect. A soothing warmth spread through his battered body, knitting together torn flesh and mending broken bones. The pain, once a sharp and constant companion, dulled to a bearable throb.
Caelum's heavy eyelids began to droop, the toll of his exertions and the gentle pull of Aisling's healing lulling him towards the brink of unconsciousness. But even in this state, his mind remained alert, grappling with the enigma of the battle's outcome and Redthorn's puzzling strategy.
As he fell into the embrace of sleep, Caelum felt the warmth of two hands gripping his own. On one side, Lily's hand lay gently over his, her presence a silent comfort. On the other, Elara's grip was firm, a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of his thoughts. His world slipped into darkness, the pain and fatigue of battle giving way to a much-needed respite.
Hours later, Caelum awoke to the familiar surroundings of his room in the inn where Lily worked. The first sight that greeted his groggy eyes was Lily, asleep in a chair next to his bed. Her head rested on his arm, her face peaceful yet marked with trails of dried tears. On his other side sat Elara, her eyes vigilant and weary, yet relieved to see him stir.
Caelum's movement was cautious, mindful of his injuries, though substantially healed thanks to Aisling's magic. The pain that remained was a dull ache, a lingering reminder of the brutal clash in the sewers.
Elara, noticing his awakening, reached for a glass of water on the bedside table and handed it to him. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.
Caelum took a slow sip, the cool water a welcome relief to his parched throat. "Like I've been trampled by a herd of Rockwolves," he replied, a hint of his usual dry humor seeping through. He glanced at Lily, her gentle breathing a stark contrast to the chaotic memories of the previous night.
Elara's smile was faint, her eyes reflecting the worry that hadn't left her since they'd brought him back.