The wind picked up as the night wore on, carrying with it a chill that bit through the village. King remained vigilant, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The clouds had thickened, obscuring the stars and casting the village in a deep, unsettling darkness. He wasn't alone on watch—Valjean and a few other villagers stood guard, each of them tense, waiting.
It had been two days since they had faced Roderick, and while the villagers had organized and prepared, an uneasy quiet had settled over the village. It was as if they were all holding their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The eerie silence gnawed at King's nerves, but he pushed the feeling aside, reminding himself of the strength they had built together.
From behind, Valjean approached, her breath visible in the cold night air. "Anything?" she asked quietly.
King shook his head, keeping his gaze on the distant tree line. "Nothing yet. But I can feel it. He's out there, waiting."
Valjean glanced at the horizon, her expression hardening. "He'll strike when we least expect it. We need to stay ready."
They stood together in silence for a moment, both of them steeling themselves for what they knew was coming. King could sense the same tension in Valjean that he felt within himself—a deep, gnawing anxiety that something was building, something bigger than anything they had faced before.
"What do you think his plan is?" King asked after a long pause.
Valjean hesitated, her brow furrowing. "I don't know. But whatever it is, it's not just about fear anymore. He's after something more."
King felt a knot tighten in his chest. "More than just controlling us?"
"Maybe," Valjean replied, her voice low. "But it's something deeper. I can feel it too—like he's looking for something inside us, something we don't even know we have."
Before King could respond, a distant sound reached their ears—a low, rhythmic rumble that seemed to come from the depths of the forest. It was faint but unmistakable, like the beating of drums.
"Do you hear that?" Valjean asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
King nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. The sound grew louder, the drumbeat echoing in the still night air. It was an ominous sound, one that sent shivers down King's spine.
"What is that?" King whispered, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.
Before Valjean could answer, the ground beneath them trembled, a subtle vibration that rippled through the earth. The rumbling intensified, and the drums grew louder, their beat steady and relentless.
Suddenly, a villager shouted from the far side of the square, his voice cutting through the tension. "Something's coming!"
The village sprang to life as people rushed to their positions. Torches were lit, casting flickering light across the square as the villagers prepared for whatever was approaching. The once calm and organized village now buzzed with frantic energy.
Mira appeared at King's side, her face pale but resolute. "We're ready," she said, though her voice betrayed the fear she was trying to suppress. "What do we do?"
King swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. "We hold the line. No one panics. We've prepared for this. Stick to the plan."
The drums continued to echo, louder and closer now, and King could see the trees swaying at the edge of the forest. Something—or someone—was approaching.
As the rumbling intensified, the shadows at the edge of the village began to shift and writhe, as if alive. King's heart raced as the first figure emerged from the darkness—tall, cloaked, and surrounded by a swirling mass of shadows. More figures followed, each of them draped in the same dark mist, their faces hidden beneath hoods.
"It's them," Valjean said, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "Roderick's sent his army."
King's grip tightened on his sword as the shadowy figures began to spread out, encircling the village. There were dozens of them, moving with eerie silence, their forms blending into the night.
"We've got to keep them at bay," King said, his voice resolute. "No matter what."
As the villagers armed themselves, a single figure stepped forward from the crowd of shadows. His presence was unmistakable—Roderick. The lanterns flickered as he approached, his face still shrouded in darkness but his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
"So, you've chosen to resist," Roderick said, his tone dripping with amusement. "How quaint."
King stepped forward, his sword gleaming in the torchlight. "We won't let you take this village. We stand united."
Roderick chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down King's spine. "United, you say? Let's see how long that lasts."
Without warning, the shadows surged forward, and the air grew thick with tension. The battle had begun.