The night had grown cold as the fires of victory dimmed. The soldiers of Aerthas took turns patrolling the ridge, their forms flickering as shadows danced in the torchlight. Drakar stood near a small outcrop overlooking the battlefield below, his mind restless despite the calm that had settled.
Why does it feel like the air itself is holding its breath?
His hand brushed Emberfang's fur as the wolf-dragon lay at his side, eyes half-closed but ears twitching at every distant noise.
"I know," Drakar murmured. "It's not over."
The sound of boots approaching made him turn. Seris walked toward him, her silver hair glimmering faintly in the moonlight.
"You should rest," she said quietly, though there was an edge of concern in her voice.
Drakar exhaled. "I will. Soon." He glanced toward the horizon where faint storm clouds gathered. "The Dral'Thar are regrouping. I can feel it."
Seris's expression softened. "They'll strike back... but not yet." She hesitated, as if weighing her words. "Drakar, you can't carry all of this alone."
He looked at her, searching for the right response, but before he could speak, Emberfang's head snapped up, a low growl rumbling in his throat.
Drakar's instincts flared as the wind shifted, carrying the faintest scent of smoke and iron.
"Go!" Drakar barked at Seris, stepping forward as he drew his blade. Emberfang leapt to his feet, the violet glow in his eyes burning bright.
The Assassins Strike
From the treetops, black-cloaked figures descended like shadows given form. Their movements were unnaturally fast, their blades glinting with poison as they fanned out around Drakar.
"Dral'Thar assassins," Seris hissed, drawing her twin daggers.
"No," Drakar muttered, his eyes narrowing. "These aren't just Dral'Thar."
The assassins' cloaks bore faint sigils—marks of an enemy faction that had remained hidden until now.
"Betrayers," Drakar whispered as realization dawned.
The first assassin lunged, their blade aimed for Drakar's throat. He sidestepped with a fluid motion, parrying with a fierce upward slash that sent the attacker sprawling. Another closed in from behind, but Emberfang was faster—his jaws clamped down with a snap, tossing the would-be killer aside like a rag doll.
"Seris, fall back!" Drakar shouted, but she held her ground.
"No!" she spat. "I won't leave you."
Drakar's gaze hardened. "Please."
Seris's hesitation lasted only a heartbeat before she nodded and disappeared into the shadows to rally reinforcements.
Another wave of assassins appeared, forming a tight circle around Drakar. They moved with precision, their blades weaving patterns meant to disorient their prey.
The Shadow Duel
Drakar's tattoos flared, and emberlight illuminated the clearing. He steadied his breathing and watched their movements closely. This isn't about brute strength—it's about endurance and clarity.
The lead assassin rushed forward with a feint to the left, but Drakar had seen it before. He pivoted and delivered a powerful strike to the attacker's ribs, shattering their armor with a sickening crunch. As the assassin crumpled, two more surged forward in perfect unison.
Drakar raised his free hand. "Ignis Aegis!"
A fiery barrier erupted around him, absorbing the incoming blades. The assassins staggered back as the flames flared brighter. Drakar pressed the advantage, his dagger a blur of burning steel. With each precise strike, another assassin fell.
But even as their numbers dwindled, Drakar felt the strain. His breath came harder, his limbs heavy from the earlier battle.
Suddenly, a flash of steel caught the corner of his eye. He spun just in time to block a dagger aimed for his heart—but the force of the blow sent him reeling. The assassin was different from the others—taller, clad in obsidian armor engraved with runes.
"You've survived longer than expected," the figure said in a low, rasping voice.
Drakar steadied himself. "Who sent you?"
The assassin's lips curled into a grim smile. "Does it matter? The world fears you, Drakar Vorn. And fear must be silenced."
The assassin lunged, their strikes faster and more precise than any Drakar had faced that night. Each swing forced Drakar to move defensively, and for the first time in years, doubt crept into his mind.
He's faster... stronger.
The assassin's blade nicked Drakar's arm, sending a sharp sting down to his fingertips. The poison laced in the cut began to burn.
Drakar stumbled as his vision blurred. Emberfang let out a furious roar, lunging at the assassin, but the enemy sidestepped, striking the wolf-dragon across the side with a concussive blast of dark energy.
"No!" Drakar's voice cracked as Emberfang crashed to the ground, unconscious.
The Glimmer of Resolve
The world spun, but in the haze, Drakar felt something shift inside him—a flicker of warmth. The same voice that had guided him before returned, steady and calm.
You have not come this far to fall.
Drakar's breathing slowed as he focused inward. He recalled Taronis's words: "Resonance is more than strength—it's purpose."
The assassin raised their blade for a final strike, but Drakar's eyes snapped open, burning with emberlight. His tattoos pulsed as though in sync with his heartbeat.
With a sudden surge of energy, Drakar sidestepped the assassin's strike and grabbed their wrist with an iron grip. Flames surged from his hand, engulfing the assassin's arm.
"You made a mistake," Drakar growled.
With a powerful twist, he disarmed the assassin and drove his dagger into their chest. The flames spread, consuming the enemy until only ash remained.
The clearing grew silent once more.
Drakar staggered, catching himself against a fallen log. Emberfang stirred and let out a weak but determined growl.
"Rest, friend," Drakar whispered, running a hand over the wolf-dragon's charred fur.
The sound of footsteps echoed from the ridge as Taronis, Seris, and the soldiers arrived, their expressions shifting from relief to concern.
Seris knelt beside him, her voice tight with worry. "You're hurt."
Drakar smiled faintly despite the pain. "It takes more than shadows to stop me."