Chereads / The Legacy of Elyn Vane / Chapter 8 - The Hunt (2)

Chapter 8 - The Hunt (2)

The battlefield was silent except for the sound of labored breathing and the slow, rhythmic dripping of blood onto the frozen ground. Elyn stood, battered and bleeding, his dark cloak tattered, his body trembling from exhaustion and the bitter cold. Deep gashes ran across his arms and torso, his red blood trickling down in thin streams before hardening into frozen streaks against his pale skin. His right hand, where a chunk of muscle had been torn away, stung in the night air, the exposed flesh beginning to freeze over. His ears rang, and when he wiped his face with the back of his wrist, he realized his tears were red—thin lines of blood trailing down his face from his temples, where the wolf's claws had barely missed taking his eye.

Opposite him, the Shadow Mane wolf was just as wounded. Deep wounds marred its once-pristine fur, and its dark blood dripped steadily onto the snow, staining the white ground with inky blotches. Its breathing was heavy, ragged, but its piercing silver eyes never wavered. It was still watching him. Calculating. It wasn't done yet. Neither was he.

The wind howled through the skeletal trees, sweeping loose snow into the air, but neither predator nor prey moved. For a moment, the entire forest seemed to hold its breath.

And then—they clashed again.

Elyn lunged forward, his dagger flashing as it met the wolf's descending claws. Sparks flew as steel met claw, the sharp clash of metal against claw reverberating through the frozen landscape. The wolf retaliated immediately, its movements so fast that it was nearly impossible to track in the darkness. But Elyn had already moved—his body twisting midair, cloak fluttering behind him, as he narrowly avoided the strike. His feet barely touched the ground before he pivoted and struck low, his blade carving a shallow wound into the wolf's foreleg.

The beast snarled but didn't retreat. Instead, it pressed forward, forcing Elyn back step by step. His torn cloak whipped behind him as he continued his acrobatic maneuvers, flipping over broken tree stumps, and rolling under its sweeping claws, all while delivering precise, calculated injuries to its legs. His strikes weren't meant to kill yet—they were meant to cripple.

But the cost was heavy.

The fight had gone on for hours. The once-midnight darkness had deepened into something even more unforgiving. The temperature had plummeted further, and now, every drop of blood that fell froze instantly upon hitting the ground. The wounds on Elyn's body felt like they were being carved deeper by the cold itself, and his exposed hand—still bleeding from where the wolf had torn flesh—was beginning to go numb. His suit, once his greatest advantage, was now damaged, though the intricate runic runes woven throughout the fabric refused to yield completely. Even in its compromised state, the enchanted garment still managed to channel thin streams of healing energy into his wounds and maintain a bubble of warmth against the bitter cold - a failing shield, perhaps, but one that stubbornly kept him alive. His body burned with exhaustion, but he couldn't afford to stop—not when the beast was still standing.

As the duel progressed, Elyn's earlier confidence gave way to a focused, almost desperate defence as the injured wolf increased its aggressive assault and pushed him back relentlessly. With each calculated attack, Elyn was forced into a reactive stance, his offence curtailed as he concentrated solely on blocking and evading the swift, unpredictable strikes.

The wolf's next ferocious swipe caught him off-guard in one brutal moment. Elyn was thrown back with such force that he careened through the dense forest. He crashed against several gnarled trees; one particularly harsh impact sent him sprawling. As he tumbled, his body collided with a skeletal branch that clung to a weathered trunk, slowing his descent into a small rocky drop. Groaning in pain as he hit the forest floor, Elyn's vision blurred briefly—only to clear and reveal the wolf perched high above on a crag of dark stone. The creature's posture exuded arrogance, a silent declaration that this was its home ground.

Before he could muster his strength to rise, the relentless pursuit resumed. Another savage attack drove him forward until he was thrust into a hidden cavern's maw—a deep, yawning chasm concealed beneath the forest floor hidden by the snow.

Elyn's fall into the cavern was a chaotic tumble down uneven, rocky walls. The darkness of the underground realm swallowed him whole, and for a harrowing moment, it seemed that escape was impossible. As he landed on a narrow ledge, the situation worsened. The ground beneath him began to give way, not into solid rock, but into a treacherous mass that he soon discovered was teeming with life.

Before he could fully comprehend his plight, Elyn's boots sank into what felt like a writhing carpet of spiders. Tiny, venomous fangs bit into his wounds with alarming persistence. Panic flared in his chest as he struggled against the advancing swarm. Each frantic breath turned into a hushed gasp of terror and pain. His screams echoed off the cavern walls, mingling with the skittering sounds of countless legs and the distant, mocking snarl of the Shadow Mane wolf, still watching from its elevated perch in the forest.

Pinned in the depths of this living trap, Elyn fought to claw his way free. The pain surged with every pull of the spiders, and his muscles trembled under the relentless assault. Yet, even as the overwhelming fear threatened to paralyze him, his determination blazed. The cavern, with all its predatory perils, was yet another challenge in the beast's own backyard—a challenge Elyn resolved to overcome, no matter the cost.

Pain shot through Elyn's body as he thrashed against the writhing mass of spiders. His breath came in ragged gasps, his mind teetering on the edge of panic as he felt himself sinking deeper into the swarm. The oppressive darkness of the cavern, the overwhelming sensation of tiny limbs clawing at him, the sheer helplessness of being dragged under—it was suffocating.

"Fuck…" he cursed under his breath, refused to die like this.

Elyn reached into the folds of his suit with deliberate precision, fingers brushing against the familiar texture of an ordinary-looking sheet of paper—his last resort, a variant of the explosive seal he had crafted. A single slip of parchment, yet at this moment, it held the power of devastation.

With a slow, measured motion, he raised the paper above him. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, but his grip was unyielding. His red eyes gleamed with unwavering intent, the sheer force of his will pouring into this single act. The unspoken command within him was primal, absolute—Burn. Reduce it all to ashes. Leave nothing behind.

The paper did not simply ignite.

Before his very eyes, the seal disintegrated, its intricate inscriptions vanishing into the air as if consumed by an unseen force. The moment stretched—each fraction of a second unfolding with an eerie clarity. Tiny embers flickered to life where the seal once was, fragile as dying stars, before scattering outward like a thousand tiny fireflies caught in a storm.

Then, the world erupted.

Each floating ember landed upon the cavern's surfaces, and in the blink of an eye, they ignited. The floor, the walls, the very air itself caught fire. A wave of searing light and heat exploded outward in a chain reaction, engulfing everything in an inferno so intense that even the darkness of the abyss recoiled. Flames raged in every direction, surging and twisting with wild abandon. The countless spiders, once so overwhelming in their sheer numbers, now became kindling for the ever-growing firestorm. Their shrill, inhuman screeches filled the cavern as their fragile forms were consumed by the merciless blaze.

But Elyn, at the heart of the chaos, had no time to revel in the destruction.

He had miscalculated.

The explosion had spread too fast, too violently, and before he could react, he felt the heat clawing at him. His cloak ignited first, then the searing pain licked at his exposed skin, the fire hungrily consuming everything—including him.

"Shit—!"

The defensive runes activated instantly, a pulse of cool energy radiating outward to counteract the intense heat. A shimmering blue luminescence spread over him, absorbing and redirecting the worst of the fire. The agonizing heat that had threatened to consume him was dulled, reduced to a mere warmth against his skin. But the fire was still spreading, the cavern collapsing into a hellscape of burning stone and molten debris.

The explosion had bought him time, but he wasn't safe yet.

His gaze shot upward, through the waves of rising embers and smoke. The cavern's jagged walls, partially crumbling from the blast, revealed a single, narrow ledge—his only chance at escape. Above that ledge, perched like a god surveying its burning kingdom, was the Shadow Mane wolf.

A figure stood at a distance, half-shrouded in the blackened depths of the forest. His posture was calm, unmoving, but his eyes were sharp—calculating every move. The wind howled past him, tugging at his dark cloak, but he did not shift. His expression was unreadable, his face obscured beneath the shadows of the trees.