Chapter 47 - Shadows of the Ridge

The march through the jagged pass leading toward the Ridge of Hollow Winds was tense, each footfall muffled by the thick layers of pine needles carpeting the narrow path. The forest, once vibrant with bird calls and rustling leaves, had fallen into an eerie silence. Even the breeze seemed to hesitate, as if holding its breath.

Drakar walked at the forefront, his steps steady but his senses sharp. The faint glow of his emberlit tattoos pulsed gently in rhythm with his breath. Taronis marched beside him, his blade unsheathed and glinting in the pale light that filtered through the trees.

Kaelen trailed behind, eyes darting at every shadow. "Why is it always quiet before things go wrong?"

Seris smirked as she adjusted her gauntlets. "Maybe it's the world giving us a chance to reflect."

Kaelen snorted. "Or it's a warning."

Drakar's eyes narrowed. "We're close. The air feels... different."

Seris nodded. "The Dral'Thar have woven their influence here. The woods themselves can become traps."

Vaelen, clad in his crimson armor, spoke in a low tone. "The Ridge of Hollow Winds has seen more wars than we know. Its ground is soaked in the echoes of battles long past." He placed his hand against a nearby tree, his gaze distant. "It remembers."

Drakar tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Vaelen turned to face him. "There are places where the scars of war seep into the land. The Ridge is one of them. You'll feel it soon."

The path widened into a clearing surrounded by jagged cliffs. Ahead, the remains of stone outposts jutted from the earth like broken teeth—remnants of long-fallen defenses. Kaelen motioned for the group to halt and knelt, brushing his hand against the soil.

"Tracks," he muttered. "Recent. A mix of beasts and Dral'Thar warriors."

Taronis crouched beside him, his sharp gaze scanning the horizon. "We're not alone."

Drakar nodded and raised his hand, signaling silence. The soldiers behind them stopped moving, their breaths shallow as tension filled the air.

The sound of a distant hum reached their ears—a rhythmic pulse that made the ground seem to thrum beneath their feet.

Seris's expression darkened. "The summoning altars."

Vaelen's eyes flickered with energy. "They're binding something large."

Kaelen adjusted his bowstring. "We need eyes in the sky." He glanced at Drakar. "I could scout ahead."

Drakar shook his head. "Not yet. If they spot you, we lose the advantage."

Taronis rose and placed a hand on Drakar's shoulder. "Then we wait until nightfall."

Seris frowned. "That will give them more time to strengthen their defenses."

Drakar's mind raced as he studied the terrain. His eyes traced the narrow cliffs and the gaps between the outposts. The ridge was treacherous, but it wasn't without weakness.

"We'll set a decoy at the edge of the eastern ridge," Drakar said, his voice firm. "If they send their forces there, we'll use the confusion to flank the main summoning site."

Vaelen's brow arched. "Risky. But it could work."

Seris's smile returned, though faint. "You're getting better at this."

Drakar met her gaze, his own serious. "This isn't about being clever. It's about survival."

Nightfall settled over the ridge like a shroud, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. The forest was bathed in shadows, and the air grew colder.

Kaelen moved silently through the brush, placing false markers and scattering prints to simulate the presence of a larger force. The faint glint of his arrowheads disappeared as he slipped into the darkness.

Drakar and Taronis positioned their forces along the western edge of the clearing, shields raised and eyes locked forward. Emberfang crouched beside Drakar, his violet eyes glowing as faint wisps of flame curled from his nostrils.

A low, guttural chant echoed from beyond the ridge. Faint purple light flickered in the distance—the summoning altars were active.

Seris whispered to Drakar, her voice barely audible. "They've started."

Drakar nodded. "Hold."

Moments later, a horn blasted from the eastern ridge. The false signal sent a ripple of movement through the enemy ranks. Shadows poured toward the east, their twisted forms moving with unsettling speed.

"Now!" Drakar roared.

The main force surged forward, their charge silent but deadly. Taronis led the front line, his blade slicing through the first wave of Dral'Thar with brutal precision.

Seris and Vaelen flanked from the west, their coordinated strikes creating gaps in the enemy formation. Seris's twin blades gleamed as they danced through the chaos, while Vaelen's crimson cloak billowed like a banner of defiance.

Drakar advanced with Emberfang at his side. His tattoos ignited, casting a golden-red glow across the battlefield. With each swing of his blade, bursts of emberlight exploded outward, searing through armor and bone.

A Dral'Thar brute lunged at him, its maw filled with jagged teeth. Drakar sidestepped and drove his dagger into its side, twisting until he felt the creature's body collapse.

Kaelen's arrows rained down from above, striking precise targets. One arrow burst into radiant sparks upon impact, disorienting a group of advancing enemies.

The ground trembled as an enormous creature emerged near the main altar—a beast of shadow and flame, its form shifting unnaturally.

Vaelen's voice rang out. "Hold the line!"

Drakar gritted his teeth as the creature charged. His tattoos pulsed, and a low hum filled his ears. Time seemed to slow.

"This is your strength," a voice echoed in his mind—the same voice he had heard in the Bastion. "Resonance is not just power—it's purpose."

Drakar raised his hand, and a wave of emberlight surged forward, colliding with the beast's form. The creature let out a guttural roar as the flames consumed it, leaving only ash behind.

The Aftermath

The final echoes of battle faded into silence. The summoning altars lay shattered, their eerie glow extinguished. Drakar wiped the ash from his blade and surveyed the scene.

Seris approached, breathing heavily but unharmed. "We did it."

Taronis joined them, his expression grim. "This was just the first step. The Dral'Thar won't retreat—they'll regroup."

Drakar nodded. "Then we'll be ready."

The soldiers of Aerthas began to gather, tending to the wounded and reinforcing their positions. The night was far from over, but the first victory belonged to them.