Chapter 10: Whispers in the Dark
The storm raged on, howling with a fury that rattled the stones of the outcrop. It had become a living thing, relentless in its assault on the small band of travelers. Snow piled higher against the rocks, threatening to bury them alive, while the bitter wind clawed at their skin like an unseen predator. But the cold was not what kept Elira awake, eyes wide as she watched the flickering flames of their fire.
It was the shadows.
Nimue had warned them, and now Elira could feel it too. Something stirred in the dark corners of the storm, something far worse than frost or ice. She could sense its presence, hovering just beyond the edges of their camp, like the faintest whisper carried on the wind. The fire crackled in the center of their huddled group, but it seemed to do little to push back the gloom that encircled them.
"They're close," Nimue whispered, her voice barely audible over the roaring storm. Her eyes glinted with an eerie calm, as though she had expected this all along. She stood a few feet from the fire, her dark robes billowing in the wind like a wraith. "Stay alert."
The soldiers stirred restlessly, their faces pale and drawn. Fear had begun to settle into their bones, and despite the warmth of the fire, an unnatural chill had gripped them. Fenn, usually stoic, shifted uncomfortably, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword.
"What exactly are we dealing with?" Elira asked, her voice low as she stepped closer to Nimue. "How do we fight something we can't see?"
Nimue's expression remained unreadable as she gazed into the swirling darkness. "The shadows are not entirely unseen. They can manifest, especially when they seek to strike. But their greatest weapon is fear. They thrive on it, use it to weaken their prey. The more afraid you are, the more real they become."
Elira frowned. "So what do we do? Pretend we're not terrified?"
Nimue gave a slight smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Courage is not the absence of fear, Elira. It's facing that fear and standing against it."
Elira glanced at the soldiers, most of them visibly trembling, though whether from the cold or the unseen threat, she couldn't tell. They had been through battles before, but this—this was different. There was no enemy to see, no clear force to strike against. Only the suffocating sense that they were being watched by something ancient and malevolent.
Suddenly, the wind seemed to shift, carrying with it a strange sound—like a low, guttural murmur, just on the edge of hearing. Elira's blood ran cold. The whispers were real.
"They're here," Nimue said softly.
As if in response, the fire flickered violently, the flames sputtering as though some invisible hand had reached out to snuff them. The shadows around the camp seemed to grow thicker, darker, pressing in on them from all sides. The murmur grew louder, a chorus of disjointed voices speaking in a language that sent a chill down Elira's spine.
The soldiers jumped to their feet, weapons drawn, their eyes darting around wildly as the darkness seemed to pulse with life.
"Hold your ground!" Elira commanded, though her own voice felt small against the growing presence of the shadows. She could feel the fear building inside her, but she forced it down. She had to stay strong—for her men, for her kingdom.
The first attack came without warning.
A dark shape lunged out of the swirling snow, moving faster than anything human. It crashed into one of the soldiers with terrifying force, sending him sprawling into the snow. His scream was cut short as the shadow enveloped him, its form shifting and writhing like liquid smoke. The soldier's body convulsed for a moment, then fell still.
"Form a circle!" Nimue's voice rang out, clear and sharp. "They're trying to divide us!"
The soldiers scrambled to obey, forming a tight ring around the fire, their swords and spears raised defensively. Elira stood at the front, her heart pounding as more shadows began to materialize from the storm, their forms barely distinguishable from the swirling snow. They moved with an unnatural grace, their bodies twisting and contorting as they closed in on the group.
Elira gripped her sword tightly, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. She could hear the whispers growing louder, clawing at her mind, filling her head with dark thoughts. The shadows were trying to break her resolve, to make her doubt herself.
She wouldn't let them.
With a roar, Elira lunged at the nearest shadow, her sword flashing in the dim firelight. The blade passed through the creature, but instead of dissipating, the shadow seemed to writhe and solidify, its dark form coiling around the sword like tendrils of smoke. Elira yanked the blade back, but the shadow was faster. It lashed out, striking her across the chest with a cold force that sent her stumbling backward.
"Elira!" Fenn shouted, rushing to her side. He slashed at the shadow with his own sword, but his blade met the same resistance. The shadow coiled around his arm, sending a wave of icy numbness through his body.
"Steel won't stop them," Nimue called out. "We need fire! Light is their enemy!"
One of the soldiers grabbed a burning branch from the fire and swung it toward the nearest shadow. As the flames touched the creature, it recoiled with a hiss, its form flickering before retreating back into the storm. Seeing this, the others followed suit, grabbing torches and burning branches to fend off the approaching shadows.
Elira's chest burned with pain, but she forced herself to stand. The shadows were relentless, but now they had a weapon. She snatched a torch from the fire and swung it toward another shadow, watching as the flame sent it skittering away like a wounded animal.
"They're retreating!" Fenn shouted, his voice full of desperate hope. "We can beat them!"
But Nimue's expression remained grim. "No. This is only the beginning."
Just as the words left her mouth, the shadows regrouped, swirling together in a terrifying mass. From within the darkness, something larger began to emerge—a figure, far more solid than the others. Its form was grotesque, twisted and misshapen, with glowing red eyes that burned like embers in the night.
It was a Shadowlord.
Elira's blood froze as the creature stepped forward, its massive body towering over the camp. The air around it seemed to warp, distorting reality itself as it moved with slow, deliberate menace. The whispers grew louder, filling Elira's mind with a cacophony of voices, each one dripping with malice.
"Stand your ground!" Nimue shouted, though even she seemed unnerved by the creature's presence.
The soldiers faltered, their earlier resolve crumbling in the face of this new horror. One of them broke rank, stumbling backward in terror, only to be swallowed by the darkness.
Elira gritted her teeth, gripping the torch with white-knuckled intensity. The Shadowlord's gaze fixed on her, its eyes glowing brighter as it stepped closer. She could feel the weight of its presence bearing down on her, as if the darkness itself was trying to smother her soul.
But she couldn't falter. Not now.
With a fierce cry, Elira raised the torch and charged toward the creature, the fire blazing in her hand like a beacon of hope. The Shadowlord roared, its voice shaking the very earth as it reached out with a massive, clawed hand.
Elira swung the torch with all her might, driving the flame into the creature's chest. For a moment, the Shadowlord hesitated, its form flickering like a dying flame.
But then it struck back.
Elira barely had time to react as the creature's claws raked across her side, sending her flying into the snow. Pain exploded through her body as she struggled to breathe, the cold seeping into her very bones.
"Elira!" Nimue's voice was distant, muffled by the wind and the pain.
The last thing Elira saw before darkness claimed her was the towering form of the Shadowlord, its glowing eyes burning brighter than the fire.