The bog-oil jars sat in neat rows beside the Dragles, their clay surfaces dull in the torchlight. The old Morta follower had worked through the night, her twisted hands deftly sealing each container with wax and fitting them with thick rope wicks coated in sulfur and tar. Lysara crouched beside the pile, running her fingers over the rough fibers.
"These should burn hot and bright," she said. "Enough to cause chaos if we drop them right."
Aldric tightened the straps on Dralore's saddle. "Chaos is what we need. Drive the beasts back into the Karnaxian line."
The plan was straightforward: release the firebombs in a wide semicircle to create a burning barrier. The corrupted beasts would panic, turn, and crash into their handlers. If it worked, they'd force Karnax's forces to fight their own monsters.
Once the last jar was secured in the netting beneath the Dragles' saddles, Lysara wiped her hands on her tunic. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," Aldric said, mounting Dralore. The Dragle shifted beneath him, talons scraping the dirt. "You?"
"Let's go light some monsters on fire." Lysara swung into Syn's saddle with practiced ease.
The Dragles launched into the sky, wings cutting through the night. Aldric felt the familiar drop in his stomach before his body adjusted to the climb. The wind cooled his skin as they rose above the landscape. Below them, the land spread out in shadows and muted shapes. The corrupted herd was easy to find: the ground around the Tear was blackened and dead, the creatures clustered in a restless mass.
"There," Lysara said, pointing toward the eastern flank. "We'll start the fire here and sweep west."
"Got it." Aldric nudged Dralore into position. The Dragle rumbled, uneasy at the scent of corruption rising from the ground.
The herd twisted and snapped beneath them. Arlocs bared their rotting maws, Borlocs lumbered through the mass like misshapen bears, and the lean forms of Trelocs paced the perimeter. A thousand corrupted beasts, penned behind wards and stakes. Karnaxian soldiers moved through the camp, oblivious to the danger above.
"On my mark," Lysara said.
Aldric gripped the release cord. "Ready."
"Mark!"
He yanked the cord. The netting released a cluster of jars. They tumbled through the air, smashing against the ground. Thick oil splattered across the dry grass. A second later, Lysara whispered a prayer and flicked her fingers. A spark of light shot downward.
The fire exploded on impact. Flames surged across the ground, burning green at the edges. The herd reacted immediately. Arlocs recoiled, screeching. Borlocs bellowed, lumbering away from the growing wall of fire.
"They're turning!" Aldric shouted. "Keep going!"
The Dragles banked west, releasing more jars. Each new impact expanded the fireline, completing the semicircle. The flames created a barrier, pushing the panicked creatures toward their handlers.
It worked. The herd charged back toward the Karnaxian line. The soldiers hesitated, uncertain at first. But as the beasts reached them, chaos erupted. Lines collapsed. The herded became hunters.
"Pull back," Aldric said, guiding Dralore into a slow turn. "Before we—"
Dralore lurched mid-flight.
"What the—"
A shadow passed overhead. A massive shape cut through the sunlight. The air shifted with the beat of unfamiliar wings.
"Lysara! Above!" Aldric shouted.
She looked up just as the creature dove toward her. It was fast. Too fast. Syn shrieked and rolled away, but the beast's talons raked across her wingtip, sending Lysara lurching sideways. She grabbed the saddle's straps just in time. She deftly pulled herself back into the saddle while reciting a prayer to heal Syn.
Aldric twisted in his seat. The creature circled back, preparing for another strike.
It looked like a Dragle, but its wings were too thin, stretched taut like old leather. Its beak was serrated, eyes glowing yellow with corrupted malice. A flying beast twisted by Karnax's rot.
It dived again.
Dralore responded instantly breaking to it's left. Dralore had taken over the fight.
The corrupted beast overshot, screeching as it passed. Syn climbed higher, wings straining for altitude.
"We need to get above it!" Aldric called.
"Trying!" Lysara shouted, voice strained. Syn climbed sharply, but the creature followed, closing the gap.
Lysara clung to the saddle as Syn veered sharply. Her knuckles turned white, her body barely staying seated.
Dralore flew upward.
The beast reached for Syn with its talons. Dralore sped forward, allowing Aldric to intercept the attack. The two creatures collided midair. The impact rattled Aldric to the core.
The corrupted beast latched onto Dralore's wing joint, digging its beak into flesh. Dralore screeched in pain and twisted, claws slashing at his attacker.
The world spun. The ground blurred beneath them.
"Come on," Aldric hissed. "Come on."
Dralore twisted his neck and clamped his beak around the creature's throat. His talons raked through decayed hide, cracking brittle bones. The beast flailed, screeching and thrashing.
With a final lunge, Dralore drove his beak into the thing's skull. Bone crunched. The creature went limp.
Its body tumbled toward the burning ground below.
Dralore flapped hard, wings trembling with the effort to stay aloft. Aldric held the reins, his pulse pounding.
"Aldric!" Lysara called her scales, changing into a multitude of colours to match her current emotions.
He turned and saw Syn circling nearby. Lysara's face was pale, hair plastered to her forehead. "You good?"
He forced a grin. "Dralore might never let me live it down, but I'm good."
They hovered there for a moment, catching their breath. The battlefield below was chaos. The corrupted herd had smashed into the Karnaxian lines. The fires continued to burn, herding the remaining beasts into the enemy's defenses.
"It worked," Lysara said.
Aldric nodded. "Yeah. But we can't count on this working twice. Now they know what we're capable of."
He angled Dralore toward the Gate. The Dragles beat their wings against the sky, gaining altitude. The burning chaos fell away beneath them.
Aldric didn't want to risk another encounter with a flying corruption beast.
"Wait," Lysara said. "There—look!"
She pointed toward the far edge of the forrest.
Aldric squinted.
Movement.
A group of figures ran through the dead ground near the corrupted zone. Their forms twisted through shadow, illuminated by the firelight behind them.
"More Karnaxians?" he asked.
"Maybe. But..." Lysara inhaled sharply through her nose. "They're clean."
Aldric's brows furrowed. "Clean?"
"No scent of corruption." Her gaze stayed locked on the runners below. "The ones chasing them reek of it."
Aldric hesitated. They had achieved their mission. The herd was scattered, the corrupted forces thrown into confusion. They were low on firebombs, exhausted, and already too close to the Tear.
But these people were running from Karnax's forces.
"We still have a few bombs left," Lysara said softly.
Aldric met her eyes. "One to separate them?"
She nodded.
"Let's risk it."
They circled lower. The figures below became clearer—, maybe fifty in the lead group. The ones behind moved like predators, sleek and efficient.
"Ready," Lysara said, gripping the release cord.
"Wait for it..." Aldric tracked the distance.
The pursuers closed fast. They had to time this perfectly.
"Now!"
Lysara yanked the cord.
The jar dropped, tumbling through the air. It shattered between the two groups. Oil splashed across the ground, and a second later, Lysara's whispered prayer sparked it to life.
Flames roared upward, cutting a line between the two packs.
The pursuers skidded to a stop on the other side, confused.
Aldric shouted down. "Keep running! We'll cover you!"
The group hesitated for a moment. Then the lead figure, clad in dented armour, gave a sharp nod and waved the others on.
"Let's guide them in," Aldric said.
Dralore banked toward the Gate, circling just above the fleeing group. The runners followed, sprinting across open ground while the corrupted forces prowled beyond the burning line.
Aldric glanced at Lysara as they escorted the survivors toward safety.
"Clean, you said?" he asked.
"Yeah." Her voice was tight. "But they might still worship Karnax."
The figures below kept running, They still had some distance before they would reach the gate area.
"Stay with them," Aldric said. "Whatever happens, we get them to safety."
Lysara nodded.
Aldric tightened his grip on Dralore's reins as they circled above the fleeing group. The survivors below staggered across the uneven ground, their armour battered and mismatched. The lead figure limped but never slowed, waving the others forward with desperate urgency.
Aldric glanced toward the fireline. The pursuing force had stopped completely, milling restlessly near the flames. They could cross if they wanted; the fire wasn't high enough to stop them. But they didn't. They hesitated.
"Why aren't they pushing forward?" Aldric muttered.
Lysara inhaled deeply through her nose. Her scales darkened to deep blue as she caught the scent of the enemy. "They're afraid," she said. "Not of us. Of something else."
"Whatever the reason, let's not waste the opportunity," Aldric said. "They're running out of strength."
He signalled Dralore to descend. The Dragle responded with a guttural growl and folded its wings slightly, gliding toward the ground. Lysara followed, Syn's wings slicing through the cold night air.
They landed in front of the approaching group, kicking up dust and ash. Aldric slid from the saddle, sword in hand but lowered in a show of caution. Lysara dismounted just as the survivors stumbled to a halt.
The lead figure straightened despite his limp. His breastplate bore faded Karnaxian markings, the sigil chipped and smeared with mud. He pulled off his helmet, revealing a gaunt face lined with exhaustion. His hair was cropped short, grey at the temples. A scar ran from his temple to his jaw, splitting his lip into a permanent snarl.
He met Aldric's gaze and gave a shallow, wary nod. "You saved us," the man said, voice hoarse.
Aldric's eyes swept over the others. One of the women clutched her side, her armour dark with blood. Another soldier leaned heavily on his spear. All bore signs of battle and days of hard travel.
"Who are you?" Aldric asked.
The man hesitated. His eyes flicked toward Lysara, then the Dragles behind them. He seemed to weigh his next words.
"We're deserters," he said finally.
Lysara's expression hardened. "From Karnax's army? It doesn't happen"
"Yes." The man's shoulders sagged slightly. "It isn't Karnax army anymore."
Aldric exchanged a quick glance with Lysara. Her silver eyes narrowed but she didn't speak. He turned back to the man. "What does that mean? "
The soldier's throat bobbed as he swallowed. His gaze shifted to the distant fireline, where the corrupted beasts still prowled. "We tried to stay true to Karnax's teachings," he said, voice low. "Honour. Discipline. Strength through battle. That was what he stood for. What we all believed."
Aldric's jaw tightened. He'd seen what Karnax's forces did to cities they took. But he said nothing, letting the man continue.
"The commanders changed," the soldier said, bitterness in his tone. "The priests stopped preaching about honour and discipline. They started speaking of power. Of sacrifice. They brought in things that shouldn't be. Creatures that don't fight with strength or skill, just mindless hunger." He rubbed a hand down his face. "We tried to speak out. Tried to reason with them. They called us traitors. Turned the corrupted on us."
"And that's when you ran?" Lysara asked.
The soldier shook his head. "No. We tried to fight back. We knew we were outnumbered, but we couldn't just walk away from it." His eyes darkened. "We held one of the smaller temples to Karnax for three days. When we ran out of supplies, we retreated into the wilds." He gestured at the others. "We've been running ever since."
"And they kept hunting you?"
"Yes, because of what we know," the soldier answered. His gaze locked on Aldric's. "They're planning something. Something worse than the corrupted. Worse than the Templars who spread the infection."
Lysara's breath caught. "What is it?"
The man shifted uncomfortably. "We heard them talking. The high priests. The commanders. They've been gathering power near the larger Tears. The corrupted are just the beginning."
"Go on," Aldric urged.
The soldier took a deep breath. "They're summoning the Harbinger."
Aldric's mouth went dry. He didn't recognise it, but the way the man said it—the dread in his voice—spoke volumes.
Lysara stepped forward. "The Harbinger?" she repeated, voice low, wary. Her scales shifted to a muted grey, eyes fixed on the soldier. "You're sure?"
The soldier gave a short nod. "Heard it with my own ears. They're gathering sacrifices. Power. Everything is building toward that goal."
Aldric frowned. "What is it?"
Lysara didn't answer immediately. She stared past the soldier, gaze distant. "Karnax isn't just trying to win a war," she said softly. "He's trying to bring something through the Veil. Something... ancient."
The soldier exhaled shakily. "The priests said it was the first of the Voidborn. Karnax's greatest champion, He fell into the void during the old wars. His time to rise has come again and no army will stand against him."
The words hung in the cold night air.
Aldric's jaw clenched. He glanced at Lysara, but she didn't look at him. Her eyes lingered on the Tear in the distance, the faint, pulsing glow painting her face in pale light.
Aldric stared toward the Tear, its edges pulsing faintly in the distance. "And they're doing it from there?"
"No," the soldier said. "The Tear we passed—that's where they were preparing the ritual it's further back. But... it might already be too late. I think that's why they stopped chasing us."
Aldric rubbed the back of his neck, mind racing. This tear wasn't large enough to summon something like the Harbinger—it was too small, too unstable for a ritual of that scale. If the priests had been working there, it was only a distraction or a staging ground.
"Too late?" Lysara's voice cut through the night air. "What do you mean?"
The soldier swallowed hard, glancing over his shoulder toward the fireline. Beyond the burning arc, the corrupted still lingered in the shadows. Watching. Waiting. Not pressing forward.
"When we ran," the soldier said, voice tight, "the ground was... changing. The symbols they carved were complete. We heard the priests chanting. The air was... wrong. Thick. Heavy." He exhaled shakily. "They didn't chase us because they didn't need to. The ritual was already happening. Maybe even finished."
Lysara swore under her breath, eyes narrowing as she stared toward the forest in the distance.
It all made sense. The corrupted patrols had abandoned pursuit, satisfied to let the escapees run. There was no desperation in their behaviour now.
Because whatever they'd been summoned to guard had already arrived.
Aldric's stomach tightened.
"If the Harbinger has crossed over," he said, voice low, "then the Gate is the next target."
Lysara nodded. "And we won't be ready."
He turned toward the Gate.
"We'll get them back first," Aldric said, voice grim. "Then we decide what to do next."
The soldier looked between them. "You'd trust us? After what we've done?"
"You tried to stop it," Aldric said simply. "That makes you different."
The soldier hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "Thank you."
Aldric mounted Dralore again, Lysara swinging onto Syn beside him. The Dragles stretched their wings and fell into formation just above the group.
From above, Aldric watched the fireline as it died. The green flames faded into embers, casting jagged shadows across the ground. Beyond the scorched earth, the corrupted stood motionless—rows upon rows of hollow-eyed, twisted figures, all facing the Gate.
They weren't retreating.
They were waiting.