The peace of the festival shattered in an instant. From the darkness, shadowy figures emerged—tall, grotesque creatures with glowing red eyes. The Nightborn. They moved with eerie silence, their claws glinting in the firelight. Screams filled the air as the villagers scattered in terror.
Arin froze, paralyzed with fear. But as the creatures closed in, something inside him stirred—something ancient and powerful. His hands began to glow with a soft, blue light. Without thinking, Arin raised his hand, and a burst of energy shot forth, striking one of the Nightborn. The creature shrieked and dissolved into shadow.
He stared at his hands in disbelief. Magic? Could this be real? But there was no time to think—more creatures were coming, and the village was in chaos.