The march to Ebon Hollow was eerily quiet. The further the army moved, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The sky, once overcast, now seemed unnaturally dark, as if the sun itself had been swallowed by the encroaching shadows. The road narrowed as the forest loomed around them, its twisted branches reaching like skeletal hands.
Isabella led the column, the Heartstone glowing faintly against her chest. Its warmth was a small comfort, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Malrik walked at her side, his shadowy blade strapped across his back. Caelum followed close behind, his bow in hand and an arrow nocked, ready for whatever might emerge from the darkness.
"Do you feel it?" Isabella asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Malrik nodded, his crimson eyes scanning the path ahead. "The Hollow knows we're coming."
Behind them, the warriors marched in tense silence. Even the most seasoned among them seemed uneasy, their hands gripping weapons tightly. The mages of the Crimson Spire whispered incantations under their breath, their fingers weaving protective wards into the air. The wild clans from the Eastern Wastes moved with predatory grace, their senses attuned to the dangers lurking in the shadows.
A sudden rustling in the underbrush brought the entire column to a halt. Isabella raised a hand, signaling silence. The soldiers froze, their eyes darting toward the source of the sound. The tension was palpable, every breath shallow as they waited.
From the shadows, a figure emerged—a scout, bloodied and battered. He stumbled forward, collapsing at Isabella's feet.
"Ambush," he gasped, his voice hoarse. "They're everywhere."
Before Isabella could respond, the forest erupted with movement. Shadowy figures surged from the trees, their forms wreathed in darkness. The warriors of the Hollow had come.
"Defensive positions!" Malrik shouted, drawing his blade in one fluid motion. The weapon gleamed with an unnatural light, its edge cutting through the darkness like a shard of midnight.
The soldiers moved quickly, forming a defensive perimeter around the mages and archers. Isabella drew her dagger, the Heartstone flaring brightly in response. Its light pushed back the shadows, illuminating the battlefield in a pale glow.
Caelum loosed an arrow, the projectile striking one of the shadowy attackers with precision. The creature let out an unearthly screech before dissipating into black mist. More took its place, their red eyes glowing with malevolence.
"They're not human," Caelum said, his voice grim as he fired another arrow. "What are these things?"
"Shades," Malrik replied, his blade slicing through two more. "Twisted souls bound to the Hollow. They're relentless, but they can be destroyed."
The battle raged on, the forest alive with the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded. The shades moved with unnatural speed, their clawed hands slashing at anything within reach. The warriors held their ground, their determination outweighing their fear.
Isabella fought with a precision born of desperation. The Heartstone's light guided her strikes, each blow cutting through the darkness. But for every shade they defeated, more seemed to take its place.
"We can't hold them off forever!" Caelum shouted, his quiver nearly empty.
Malrik growled in frustration, his blade cleaving through another wave of attackers. "We need to break through! If we stay here, we're finished."
Isabella nodded, her mind racing. She closed her eyes, focusing on the Heartstone. Its warmth spread through her, its light intensifying. When she opened her eyes, the glow was blinding, casting the battlefield in radiant light.
"Follow me!" she shouted, charging forward.
The soldiers hesitated for only a moment before rallying behind her. The Heartstone's light carved a path through the shadows, its power scattering the shades like smoke in the wind. Malrik and Caelum flanked her, their weapons striking with lethal precision.
By the time they broke through the ambush, the forest was eerily silent once more. The survivors regrouped, their faces pale and their breaths heavy. The cost of the battle was clear—several warriors lay dead, their bodies already being tended to by their comrades.
"We lost too many," Caelum said quietly, his voice heavy with guilt.
"We'll lose more if we stop now," Malrik said, his tone harsh but practical. "The Hollow isn't going to wait for us to mourn."
Isabella placed a hand on Caelum's shoulder. "He's right. We have to keep moving. Every moment we waste gives the darkness more time to spread."
Caelum nodded reluctantly, his jaw tight. "Let's go, then."
The march resumed, the air even heavier than before. The loss of their comrades weighed on them, but the determination in their eyes burned brighter. They were close now—Isabella could feel it. The Heartstone pulsed faster, its light guiding them through the darkness.
As they pressed deeper into the forest, the trees grew more twisted, their branches forming a near-impenetrable canopy. The shadows seemed to thicken, pressing in on them from all sides. Whispers echoed in the air, faint but insidious.
Turn back... You will fail...
Isabella shook her head, refusing to give in to the voices. She focused on the Heartstone, its warmth a beacon of hope against the encroaching despair.
"We're almost there," Malrik said, his voice low. "The Hollow's heart is just ahead."
The path opened into a clearing, and there it stood—a massive obsidian spire, its surface etched with glowing red runes. The air around it crackled with dark energy, and the very ground beneath it warped and lifeless.
"This is it," Isabella whispered, her voice trembling. "The source of the Hollow's power."
Malrik's grip tightened on his blade. "Then let's end this."