The clang of metal echoed in the ruins as Rina loosed her first arrow. It flew through the air, striking a soldier in the throat, dropping him instantly. Torin rushed forward, his sword flashing in the fading light, meeting the advancing soldiers head-on with a ferocity that belied his usually easygoing demeanor.
Alara, holding the Box of Aeldor tightly, stepped back, her free hand glowing with magical energy. She chanted an incantation under her breath, and moments later, a translucent shield shimmered into existence around her, protecting both herself and the precious artifact.
Rina moved swiftly, her movements precise and lethal as she fired arrow after arrow, each shot finding its mark. Her mind raced with thoughts of Aran—where was he? Had he predicted this attack? Was he already making moves of his own, unseen in the shadows?
The Pale King's soldiers pressed forward, their numbers seemingly endless. They wore dark armor, the kind that absorbed light, making them appear as shadows. Their faces were hidden beneath helmets, only their glowing red eyes visible through narrow slits.
Torin let out a fierce war cry as he cleaved through two soldiers at once, but even he was beginning to tire. "These bastards just keep coming!"
"We need to fall back!" Rina shouted, her bowstring taut as she shot another arrow, downing another soldier. But even as she spoke, she knew they were trapped. The ruins around them provided some cover, but not enough. The soldiers were closing in from all sides.
"I'll cover you!" Alara called out. She raised her hand, sending a wave of raw magical energy toward the nearest group of soldiers. The force of the blast sent them flying, but more surged in to take their place.
Rina's heart pounded as she searched for an opening, a way out of the encirclement. They couldn't afford to lose the Box of Aeldor—not after everything they'd been through to find it.
As the soldiers advanced, one of them stepped forward, different from the others. His armor was more ornate, lined with silver runes that shimmered with dark magic. His presence alone seemed to command respect, and the other soldiers paused in their attack, forming a tight formation around him.
"I am Captain Varkos," the man said, his voice echoing with dark power. "Surrender the box, and I will grant you a swift death. Resist, and you will suffer."
Rina's eyes narrowed. "We're not giving you anything."
Varkos tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Foolish." He raised his hand, and the ground beneath them trembled. Dark tendrils of magic erupted from the earth, snaking toward them.
Rina jumped back, narrowly avoiding the tendrils as they lashed out. One of them struck Torin's leg, and he cursed as he stumbled, blood seeping through his armor.
Alara reacted quickly, raising her hand to counter the dark magic with her own, but it was clear that Varkos was no ordinary enemy. His magic was far stronger than any they had faced before.
"We can't beat him in a straight fight!" Alara shouted. "We need to retreat!"
But there was no way out. The soldiers had them surrounded, and Varkos stood in the center, his power growing with every second.
Rina's mind raced. She couldn't let the Box of Aeldor fall into the hands of the Pale King's forces. She glanced at Alara, who was still struggling to maintain her shield, and Torin, who was now limping but still fighting valiantly.
Desperation surged through her veins. They couldn't win this fight—not like this. She needed to think, to strategize. There had to be another way.
As if sensing her thoughts, Varkos laughed. "There is no escape. Surrender now, and perhaps I will be merciful."
But Rina wasn't listening. Her eyes darted across the ruins, searching for something—anything—that could give them an advantage. That's when she saw it. In the distance, partially obscured by the crumbling remains of a tower, there was a narrow passage, barely wide enough for a person to fit through.
It was their only chance.
"Torin! Alara!" Rina shouted. "There's a passage over there! We need to make a break for it!"
Torin, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg, nodded. "I'll cover you. Go!"
Alara hesitated, glancing at the box in her hands. "But the box—"
"Just go!" Rina barked.
With a deep breath, Alara nodded and sprinted toward the passage, the box clutched tightly to her chest. Rina followed close behind, her bow at the ready, firing off shots at the soldiers who tried to pursue them.
Torin, despite his injury, held the line, his sword flashing as he fought off the soldiers with a fury that bordered on madness. He was buying them time—precious seconds that could mean the difference between life and death.
Varkos, seeing them make a run for it, raised his hand again. The ground shook violently, and more tendrils of dark magic shot toward them. Rina felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the magic neared, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.
Just as the tendrils were about to strike, Alara turned and unleashed a burst of raw magical energy, creating a shield that deflected the attack. The force of the blast sent shockwaves through the ruins, causing the crumbling tower to collapse in on itself, blocking the path behind them.
Rina's heart raced as they reached the narrow passage. "Torin!" she called out, but there was no response.
She turned back, her eyes scanning the rubble for any sign of him, but all she saw was dust and debris. Her stomach twisted painfully.
"We have to go," Alara urged, pulling at her arm. "There's nothing we can do."
Rina clenched her fists, but she knew Alara was right. Torin had sacrificed himself to give them a chance, and now they had to take it.
Without another word, they slipped into the narrow passage, leaving the ruins—and Torin—behind.
The passage was tight and winding, the walls closing in on them as they moved deeper into the earth. Rina's breath came in short, sharp bursts, her mind still reeling from the battle. But they couldn't stop now. Not when they were so close.
After what felt like an eternity, the passage finally opened up into a small, hidden chamber. It was dark and damp, but for the moment, it was safe.
Alara collapsed against the wall, clutching the box tightly. "We made it," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We actually made it."
Rina sank to the ground beside her, her mind still racing. They had survived, but at what cost? Torin was gone, and the Pale King's forces were still out there, hunting them.
But for now, they had the Box of Aeldor. And with it, the power to change the fate of the world.
Rina took a deep breath, her thoughts already turning to the next step. They needed to regroup, to find Aran. He had to know what had happened—he had to have a plan.
Because this was far from over.
And the battle for Aeldor was only just beginning.