The forest had taken on an eerie silence, the trees casting long shadows under the crescent moon. Valthar and Serra pressed forward, the weight of the Abyssal creature's words still fresh in Valthar's mind. He could feel the darkness tugging at his soul, gnawing at his resolve. Every step forward was a reminder that time was running out. The moon was climbing, and with it, the decision he would need to make loomed closer.
But his thoughts of the Abyss were shattered by a sudden, sharp noise ahead—a branch snapping underfoot. Instinctively, Valthar's hand went to his sword, his muscles tensing.
Serra held up a hand, her eyes narrowing. "We're not alone," she whispered.
A faint rustling came from the bushes around them. Valthar's heart raced as his grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. In an instant, Serra unsheathed her blade, her eyes flicking toward the treeline.
Out of the shadows, six figures emerged. Raiders. Their faces were smeared with dirt and blood, their ragged armor clinking as they moved toward Valthar and Serra, like wolves circling prey. The leader—a hulking brute with scars crisscrossing his face—smirked as he drew a massive axe from his back.
"Well, well," the leader growled, his voice low and menacing. "Look what we have here. A prince and his little knight, wandering where they shouldn't be."
Valthar's blood boiled. His mind raced through the possibilities. He could give in to the Abyss, unleash the dark power he had been resisting, and tear them apart like insects. The thought pulsed in the back of his skull, enticing, sweet.
But no. He wasn't ready to cross that line.
Not yet.
"Move aside," Valthar growled, his sword gleaming in the moonlight. "You don't know who you're dealing with."
The leader laughed, a deep, guttural sound. "Oh, I know exactly who you are, Prince. The last of your kind. There's a bounty on your head, and I reckon I could use that gold."
Serra stepped forward, her eyes locked on the leader. "You don't want to do this."
"Oh, I do," the leader sneered, raising his axe. "Get 'em, boys."
The forest exploded into chaos. Three of the raiders lunged toward Valthar, weapons raised. Time slowed as adrenaline surged through his veins. He sidestepped the first, his sword cutting through the air with a lethal grace. His blade found flesh, slicing through a man's neck with sickening ease. Blood sprayed across the ground as the raider collapsed, gurgling on his own blood.
The second came at him with a mace, roaring as he swung with wild abandon. Valthar dodged left, bringing his sword up in a vicious arc. The blade cleaved through the raider's arm, severing it cleanly at the elbow. The man's scream filled the night as he stumbled back, clutching the bleeding stump.
The third raider hesitated, his eyes widening as he saw his companions fall. Valthar didn't give him the chance to retreat. With a savage growl, he drove his sword through the man's chest, feeling the resistance of bone and muscle as the blade pierced through to the other side. The raider gasped, blood bubbling at his lips, before collapsing in a lifeless heap at Valthar's feet.
Across the clearing, Serra was a whirlwind of steel. She ducked and parried, her movements precise and deadly. One of the raiders managed to get close, his sword aimed at her throat, but she was faster. Her blade flashed, and suddenly the man's head was rolling across the ground, his body collapsing in a heap.
But the leader was different. He wasn't intimidated by the bloodshed. He charged at Serra with a feral grin, his massive axe swinging with brutal force. She barely had time to parry, the impact of his blow sending a shockwave through her arm. She gritted her teeth and pushed back, but the man was strong—stronger than any normal human should be.
Valthar moved to help her, but another figure stepped into his path—a raider who hadn't revealed himself until now. This one was different, though. His eyes glowed with a sickly yellow light, and the shadows seemed to cling to him like a second skin.
Abyssal magic.
The raider smiled, a dark, twisted thing. "You're not the only one with a connection to the Abyss, prince."
Before Valthar could react, the raider raised his hand, and a bolt of dark energy shot toward him. Valthar barely dodged in time, the blast grazing his arm. Pain shot through him like fire, and he staggered back, his vision swimming. The raider closed the distance quickly, his blade humming with dark power.
"You'll die like the rest of your family," the raider snarled, his sword swinging toward Valthar's throat.
But Valthar's rage surged. The pain, the loss, the hatred—all of it boiled to the surface. He parried the strike, his sword clashing against the raider's with a deafening ring. The dark energy pulsed from the blade, but Valthar pushed through it, gritting his teeth as the Abyss whispered at the edges of his mind.
Give in to me. Let me help you.
With a roar, Valthar slammed his sword down, knocking the raider's weapon aside. The force of the blow sent a shockwave of dark energy rippling outward, but Valthar didn't care. He lunged forward, his sword plunging into the raider's gut. The man gasped, his eyes widening in shock as blood poured from the wound.
Valthar twisted the blade savagely, tearing through flesh and bone before yanking it free. The raider collapsed, his body convulsing as the dark energy consumed him from the inside out.
Panting, Valthar turned just in time to see Serra struggling against the leader. The brute had her pinned against a tree, his axe raised for the killing blow.
Without thinking, Valthar moved. His sword hummed in his hand, dark energy crackling along the blade as he swung with all his might. The leader saw him too late. The blade connected with the man's neck, severing his head in a single, brutal stroke.
The leader's body crumpled to the ground, blood pooling at Serra's feet. She stood there, breathless, her eyes wide as she looked at Valthar. His sword still glowed with Abyssal power, the air around him thick with the scent of death and dark magic.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was deafening.
Finally, Serra stepped forward, her voice barely a whisper. "Valthar… what did you do?"
Valthar stared at the bodies around them, at the blood on his hands, and at the dark power that still pulsed in his veins. He could feel the Abyss wrapping itself around him, tightening its grip.
"I didn't have a choice," he muttered, but even as he said the words, he wasn't sure he believed them. The line between necessity and desire had begun to blur.
And the darkness inside him was growing.
With every kill, with every drop of blood spilled, the Abyss was claiming him.
Serra's gaze hardened. "You had a choice, Valthar. You always have a choice."
But did he? As the moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the blood-soaked ground, Valthar wasn't so sure.
The whispers were growing louder.