The outside air offered no respite in that regard either: the same sombre color, and as Seraphine and her companions emerged, that oppressive whisper seemed to trail after them like some great, suffocating veil. The sky overhead churned with clouds thick and unnatural, casting an eerie half-light that pressed down on the world. The earth beneath their feet stirred faintly, as if the land itself recoiled from the tome Seraphine carried.
"We can't stay here," said Garin, voice tight. He looked out to the horizon, where shadowy figures writhed and flickered. "They'll come for us."
"They already are," Elara said harshly, her hand on her staff. She turned to glance at Seraphine. "That book-it's radiating power. It's like a beacon."
Seraphine shifted the tome under her arm, fingers biting into the ancient leather binding. "Then we move. The sooner we get to Lysandra, the sooner we'll know what to do with this."
The group fell into formation, armed and alert as they traversed the twisted landscape. Every shadow seemed to shift, every noise promised danger.
They had barely begun down the ridge when a wall of mist suddenly stood before them, obscuring everything from view.
"Stay close!" Seraphine yelled, her voice sharp over the growing wind.
The mist writhed, and from it came the servants of the Shadow King—the tall, faceless figures clad in flowing black robes. Their hands ended in claws that shimmered like obsidian, and their eyes glowed with an unnatural red light.
"Ambush!" Garin shouted, loosing an arrow into the nearest figure.
The arrow hit its mark, but the creature barely batted an eye. It raised a clawed hand and a wave of dark energy surged forward. Garin dove to one side in time to avoid the crushing blow, but Seraphine hurtled on, head to head.
The battle was crazy. The mist dizzied them, and shadowy figures darted with unnatural speed and struck from all sides. Elara's wards flickered and strained from the constant assault, her face pale with effort.
"They're stronger than before!" one of the warriors shouted as he fought off two attackers at once.
"They're drawn to the tome!" Elara cried. "We have to protect it at all costs!"
Seraphine gritted her teeth as she carved through yet another foe with a shining sword. "We don't stop until they're all gone!" she cried.
The mist grew thicker, and the whispers intensified until their minds were drenched in doubt and despair. You cannot win. You are doomed. Give up and join us.
"Silence!" Seraphine bellowed, her blade flaring with light. She charged at the closest figure, sword slicing through its form. The creature wailed an unearthly howl before dissipating into smoke.
Garin fired another arrow-this one filled with Elara's magic-and this one struck a shadow in the chest. The creature exploded in a burst of light and for a moment the mist thinned.
"We're breaking through!" Garin shouted.
"Onward!" Seraphine bellowed, rallying her friends.
With newfound determination, the group fought their way out of the mist. The last of the shadows hissed as it fell, and the oppressive whispers faded into silence.
When they reached a defensible clearing, the group was battered and exhausted. They collapsed onto the ground, breathing in ragged gasps.
"Is everyone still with us?" Seraphine croaked.
She looked at each of her friends one by one. No one was lost this time, although their injuries were plentiful.
"We can't keep fighting like this," Elara said, slumping against a boulder. "Every step we take, the Shadow King sends stronger forces after us. It is as if he knows precisely where we are."
Seraphine gazed down at the book in her hands. Runes on the cover glowed softly, pulsing like a heartbeat. "It's this," she said. "He's not just sensing it-he's connected to it."
"Then why don't we destroy it?" Garin asked, his tone frustrated.
"Because it's the only thing that might save us," Seraphine replied. "We don't know what's in here yet. Lysandra will.".
But till we get to her, we're naked. The Shadow King will stop at nothing till we're dead or till he gets the book."
Then Seraphine said, voice hardening, "Then we'll make him wish he ever tried". "We're not giving up."
Seraphine sat watch as the others slept, the tome lying on her lap. Unsettling to have it there with her, she could not look away. The runes danced and shimmered, writing patterns that just came together and then went elsewhere.
"Elara said not to open it," Garin's voice came from nowhere in particular as he approached her, his bow slung across his back.
"I'm not opening it," Seraphine said sternly, though the temptation was there. "But I need to know what is in here. We're carrying it, risking everything for it, and we don't even know what's inside."
Garin sat beside her, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Do you ever wonder if we're making a mistake?
"Every day," Seraphine admitted. "But we don't have a choice. If we don't fight, the Shadow King wins. And if we lose…at least we tried."
Garin nodded, his face unreadable. "You're stronger than you think, Seraphine."
She glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. "And you're better at this than you give yourself credit for."
For a moment, the weight of their journey eased and they sat there quietly, at ease. But the words would not be silenced, lingering just within reach of their minds.
By dawn, the tribe was moving once more. The landscape grew rockier, the air chillier and thicker. Battles came more often-few duels that just depleted them.
But Seraphine noticed something else; the book was getting brighter each time they were at each other's throats, and the whispers grew louder, as if the artifact itself fed from their struggle.
Finally, after days of non-stop traveling, they spotted it: the distant outline of the mage's tower where Lysandra waited. The view filled them with hope, but the hope remained short-lived.
The earth beneath them scratched open and a monstrous figure emerged large and infinitely scarier than all of the previous ones they had come across. A twisted junction of shadow and stone, it sounded like thunder when it spoke.
"You will not pass," it boomed, reaching out to raise an enormous claw.
That was the last stretch of their road lay before them, and Seraphine knew that this would be where they were pushed hard in ways they'd never be able to fully witness.