The clearing, bathed in a dim, eerie glow, echoed with the guttural roars of monsters and the piercing war cries of elves.
Rilléan, his bow discarded at his feet, narrowly dodged the snapping jaws of a charging lycanthrope. The beast snarled, its glowing red eyes burning with rage, but before it could lunge again, a searing energy flared from the elf's hands.
"Arma," he whispered.
A flurry of wooden stakes shot from his palms, piercing the lycanthrope's flesh. With a guttural groan, the beast collapsed in agony.
Rilléan dropped to his knees, gasping for breath. Shadows danced on the edges of his vision.
"Hold on!" a firm voice called out.
Another elf vaulted to his side, wielding a blade forged from ethereal wood, the weapon glistening with the thick, black blood of a troll he had just decapitated. In one smooth motion, he positioned himself in front of his comrade, extending a hand.
