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"Even though you were consumed by darkness, you were the one who lit up my night and my dreams, even if you didn't know it." – Hope Dellacrox
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"Oh god of flames, warmth, and comfort, I beseech thee to light my way and drive away from their fire the creatures that lurk from the abyss."
Poor Lamparina prayed as she hobbled through the forest, carrying the only thing that kept her alive there, a lamp, whose light became stronger and more comforting at the end of her enchantment, but this was only a temporary measure. Even as the pain was relieved by her magic, her leg bled, her whole body ached and threatened to no longer respond to her brain on the verge of collapse.
"Come on, Hope, think, think."
But nothing came to Hope's mind but the pains and exhaustion. The sound of what she thought were four Nightwalkers tormented her ears, almost driving her mad. The laughter emitted by these creatures while hunting was not like barking or howling; it was like laughter—shrill and piercing to the bones. It seemed as if they were mocking the futile effort of their prey.
"Oh god..."
Hope's legs failed. The flames of her lamp began to subside, engulfed by the shadows that surrounded her.
"From the flames, from the warmth and pain comfort, I beseech thee to light my way and drive away from their bonfire the creatures that lurk from the abyss."
The flames shone brighter again. Unable to get up, Hope crawled to the nearest tree, her vest and leather boots so damaged that it was almost as if she was dragging her own skin on the forest floor.
She stood with her back to a tree, and her brown eyes stared at the shadows in front of her; it was almost as if she was seeing an infinite emptiness staring at her hungrily. With her left hand, she gripped a small dagger; its blade was cracked, and it might not last more than a blow. She laughed at the idea.
"A dagger against what I believe to be 5 Nightwalkers, their skins are almost as tough as ironwood."
Hope brushed her black hair away from her eyes with the back of her hands and breathed painfully.
"That doesn't make sense; the endless night wasn't supposed to come now. She's three months ahead of schedule."
The laughter was approaching.
"Humpf, it seems that the future great Hope Dellacrox will perish here and now, like a little Lamparina with the dream of becoming a Storyteller. In the end, I will only be able to narrate my death."
A Nightwalker approached the edge of Hope's lamp light, to the point where she could see him clearly. It was almost 3 meters tall, with a completely gray and rough body. Its mouth had the expression of a smile that showed pointed teeth, and a black liquid dripped between them. It had 3 tentacles on the top of its head, yellowish eyes like those of a crocodile, walked around leaning on its hands like a primate, and was wider than a full-grown bear.
I see only one, but I can feel others watching me from the darkness.
The Nightwalker began to walk towards Hope, invading the circle of light formed by her lamp.
"Of course. In the infinite night, the Forge is the god who is weakened the most and consequently the Lamparina's. But if I'm going to perish here, I'll take at least one with me."
Hope raised the lamp in front of her eyes and began a new incantation, while the monster in front of her slowly approached, playing with her, waiting patiently for her to finish the enchantment.
"O Forge, I borrow from thee the flames which thou hast used to create the sword destined to reap the chaos of this world. I beseech thee that from these flames be wrought the death of my enemy."
Hope threw the lamp at the feet of the creature in front of her; the flames then turned into a great flame of fire that transformed into a forge hammer and struck the monster on the head. Hope was unaffected by the shockwave from the impact that had created a huge hole in front of her and knocked down trees around her, as the flames from the forge had protected her.
Silence and darkness.
Hope's body was already giving in to exhaustion; the adrenaline was gone.
"In an ideal world, the coup would have extinguished the Nightwalker and chased away the others, but..."
Hope smiled, the smile of someone who had already accepted the end of her story. In front of her, when the smoke created by the flames that burned the place rose, was a gray matter. Part of her body was burned, but it looked like nothing but superficial injuries. Then, the laughter began, mocking the helpless prey, about to become food.
"Unfortunately, we don't live in an ideal world."
As Hope's vision faded, she saw in a blurred world, behind the Nightwalker, a clasp of blue flames.
"So that's what it means to see the god of flames in a last breath of life?"
Hope's eyes closed, waiting for the blow that would take her life—a blow that never came. Instead, what came was a bone-chilling sound that appeared right in front of Hope. It was the sound of a Nightwalker in pain.
The girl didn't open her eyes, not because she couldn't, but because she didn't have the strength to do so. Instead, she tried to make sense of the sounds — what was happening. Trees fell one after another, a blade tore through the air and also tore skin and flesh. The blade cut through the flesh, ranging from deep, slow to shallow and quick blows.
It was as if two beasts were fighting for territory — or vying for prey.
With a thud of something large falling to the ground, Hope began to gather the remnant of her strength to open her eyes. It took her a few seconds to open her eyes, but when she did, she saw in front of her, lying lifeless, the giant, humanoid, gray, wrinkled body of the Nightwalker. It was scarred by several wounds from which thick black blood flowed. Just above the monster, there was a person holding a spear, the end of which was the blade that slid out of the creature, while the other end ended in a semicircle with a script as old as the tribe of Hope, and next to the person was the blue flame.
"Forge?"
The flame on the shoulder of the person in front of her began to float towards Hope, lighting the way and showing that the Nightwalker's head had been separated from the body and was now at Hope's feet. The fright had made her forget the pains and wear and tear on her body for a brief moment, and the surge of adrenaline made her get up. The flame rose a few feet above Hope and lit up the forest like a great lighthouse illuminates the sea swallowed by the darkness of night.
Hope was able to spot four more Nightwalkers, who put their hands to their faces, blinded by the light. She was also able to see the person who had eliminated the monster in front of her—a girl with blood-red hair, remnants of armor that had once been silver like the moon, a spear with the symbol of a crow, and a book at its end.
The true symbol of Khaos.
The girl's face was scarred; her two-colored eyes moved, but her expression was non-existent on her face. It was almost as if Hope was seeing a dead man walking.
"Forge... In 200 years, it's the first time anyone has mistaken me for a false god."
The voice of the girl Scars—it was almost like a whisper to Hope.
"False god?"
The words were out of Hope's mouth before she knew it.
Before any other word, the Nightwalkers, now recovered from blindness, attacked Scars.
Scars jumped when the first blow came, landing on a Nightwalker's shoulders; she stabbed him in the eye and landed on the ground as the creature began to attack randomly. Hope looked astonished; it was as if Scars danced during the fight, her blows and dodges were graceful and light. It was almost as if the girl was a light breeze with the force of a tornado. Even the enchanted weapons had difficulty penetrating the skin of those creatures, and there was Hope, watching with her own eyes someone cut off a Nightwalker's arm like a knife cut cheese.
The girl in front of him was a predator playing with her prey, and the dancing between them became more and more intense. Still, it was Scars who ruled the rhythm. But that rhythm was broken.
Scars jumped again to hit the creature, but a third monster appeared and hit her in the air, and Scars felt the impact of the tree against her back. The air was ripped from her lungs, and she fell to the ground hard. She struggled to get up, her body aching, and her head spinning. When she got up, she saw the third Nightwalker approaching with its mouth open, ready to devour her.
She rolled onto her side, narrowly avoiding the monster's jaws, and grabbed her spear, ready to strike. But a Nightwalker in the infinite night was still too fast and agile for her, dodging her attacks effortlessly. Scars felt frustrated when she realized she was at a disadvantage.
If someone hadn't been dumb enough to enter the Shadow Forest and get the attention of almost every Nightwalker in the region, Scars would now be preparing for the endless night that had arrived months in advance.
"Storms Ignai" - A flameless lamp appeared between Scars and the creature, and then a wall of fire formed between them, giving Scars enough time to react and retake the reins of the battle. The other Nightwalker turned to Hope and ran towards her; the girl had spent her last strength on the spell to help Scars, even using a debt to get the spell needed.
Hope stood there, unable to do anything, paralyzed by fear, her vision blurred, the rapid beating of her heart grew farther and farther away, the world grew darker and quieter, and Hope fainted, unable to fight off exhaustion and blood loss, unknowingly surrendering her life into Scars' hands.