Days blurred into a haze of survival.
Word spread quickly through the broken lands: the Eclipse Hunters had risen.
They came draped in cloaks of midnight, their blades curved like crescents, their eyes glimmering with unnatural light. They were no mere mortals. They were chosen—by what, none dared say aloud.
Liora and Eryndor had crossed into the borderlands when the first Hunters appeared.
"Run," Eryndor hissed, shoving her into the trees.
But it was too late. Three figures dropped from the branches like shadows given flesh.
The leader tilted her head, her mask carved like a half-moon. "The shard bearer," she whispered. Her voice was smooth, soft, but carried death within it. "Our master has been waiting."
The shard flared in Liora's palm, its light searing through the gloom. The Hunters recoiled slightly, then drew their blades.
Eryndor stepped forward, his crimson sword blazing as if it had been waiting for this moment. "You will not have her."
The battle was chaos. Blades clashed with screams of metal and thunder. Sparks lit the forest as shadows bent unnaturally, obeying the Hunters' will.
Liora could only watch, clutching the shard, as Eryndor fought like a storm given flesh. He struck down one, then another, but the leader danced with him, her blade weaving arcs of silver death.
The shard pulsed harder, the whispers becoming desperate. Use me.
Liora hesitated. Her grandmother's words echoed faintly—never trust a gift freely given. But if she did nothing, Eryndor would die.
She raised the shard high. It flared like a dying star.
The forest ignited in light, and the Hunters screamed as shadow peeled away from their forms, revealing faces twisted by the Eclipse.
The leader staggered back, mask cracking. Her voice, once calm, now trembled with rage. "The Core has awakened. We will return."
They vanished into the shadows, leaving only silence.
Eryndor knelt, panting, blood dripping from his blade. He glanced at Liora, then at the shard in her hand.
"It grows stronger," he said. "And so will they."
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