The dense forest surrounding the Blackthorn Clan's stronghold was eerily quiet, except for the faint leaves rustling as the wind swept through. It was a deceptive calm, masking the storm about to descend. The Silverfang Clan's forces were on the move.
Leading them was Erland, the third son of Ulrich, the leader of the Silverfang Clan. Erland was known for his sharp mind and ruthless tactics. At his side marched Commander Kael, a seasoned warrior who had led countless successful campaigns. Their nearly hundred-strong army moved purposefully, their footsteps crushing the undergrowth beneath them.
Erland rode at the front on a sleek black steed, his cold blue eyes scanning the horizon. "We're nearing Blackthorn territory," he said, calm but commanding. "Keep your eyes sharp. I don't expect them just to wait for us to knock on their door."
Kael nodded, gripping the hilt of his sword. "They're weak, but cornered animals can be dangerous."
As they pressed forward, the first signs of resistance appeared. Hidden spikes erupted from the ground, narrowly missing several of their soldiers. Moments later, arrows rained down from the treetops, fired by Blackthorn clan members lying in wait.
"An ambush," Kael growled, drawing his sword.
But Erland remained unfazed. "Pathetic. Forward!"
His voice rang with authority, and the Silverfang forces surged ahead, shields raised against the barrage. While strategically placed, the traps lacked the force to harm the Silverfang troops significantly. Many arrows bounced harmlessly off armor, and the hidden spikes, while dangerous, only claimed a few victims.
Kael smirked as he cut down a fleeing Blackthorn attacker. "If this is their idea of defense, we'll be at their stronghold by nightfall."
Erland dismounted, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the aftermath of the failed ambush. "No. This was desperation, not strategy. They're probing us, trying to buy time. Keep moving, but double the scouts. I want no surprises."
Deeper in the forest, five Blackthorn scouts had been sent ahead to gather intelligence on the approaching force. They moved carefully, speaking only in hushed whispers.
"This is bad," one of them muttered, a young man named Lyle. "Their numbers are too many. We need to warn Elder Varis."
Another scout, a wiry vampire named Corin, shook his head. "Not yet. We need a full report. If we go back without enough information, it won't help anyone."
Before they could agree on their next move, a whistle cut through the air, followed by heavy footsteps. The Silverfang soldiers had tracked them down.
"Scatter!" Corin barked, but it was too late.
The Silverfang forces descended upon them like wolves on prey. Lyle was the first to fall, tackled, and pinned before he could even draw his blade. Two others followed, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Corin managed to fend off one attacker, but a swift blow from behind knocked him unconscious.
Only one scout managed to escape. A younger vampire named Finn darted through the trees, his heart pounding. He knew the forest better than anyone, weaving through the underbrush with practiced ease. He didn't dare look back, even as he heard the shouts of the Silverfang soldiers fading behind him.
Finn didn't stop until he reached the edge of the Blackthorn stronghold, gasping for breath as he stumbled into the main hall where Elder Varis and several clan members were gathered.
"Elder Varis!" he shouted, his voice strained.
The elder turned, his stern face etched with concern. "Finn? Where are the others?"
Finn fell to his knees, his hands trembling. "They… they've been captured. The traps didn't work. The Silverfang forces are too strong. They're coming, and they'll be here soon."
A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by Finn's ragged breathing. Elder Varis clenched his fists, his mind racing.
Draven, standing quietly in the corner, listened intently. His expression didn't change, but his mind was already calculating. The Silverfang Clan was making their move, and this time, they were serious.
"We need a new plan," Elder Varis said finally, his voice heavy with the weight of the situation. "Everyone, prepare for their arrival. We don't have much time."
Draven stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "Let them come."
All eyes turned to him, some filled with doubt, others with hope.
"What do you mean?" Elder Varis asked, his brow furrowing.
Draven met his gaze, his crimson eyes glinting in the dim light. "If they think we're weak, they'll underestimate us. That's when we strike."
Elder Varis nodded slowly, but the tension in the room remained. Finn's report had shaken them all, and the threat of the Silverfang forces loomed larger than ever.
As the Blackthorn Clan began their preparations, a sense of unease hung in the air. The Silverfang forces were relentless, and their cunning leader would not make this an easy fight.
And somewhere, deep in the forest, Erland stood with his troops, a cold smile playing on his lips.
"Let's see how long the Blackthorn Clan can hold out," he murmured.
To be continued...