The corruption is... alive.
I can feel it. It's not just in the air; it's... pressing against me. Oily. Trying to find a way in. And the curse... it loves it.
Yes, it hums, a low, satisfied purr in my gut. This is our place. Stop fighting. Let me show you...
"Ren." Seraphine's voice. It's sharp.
Crap. I stopped walking. The whole team has stopped, and they're all... staring at me.
"Sorry," I mumble. "It's... thick here."
"Ashenvale," Nyssa says, her voice flat. She's scouting ahead. "A village that fell two years ago. Nothing lives here. Just... remnants."
The ruins are like broken teeth sticking out of the dead forest. Burned-out shells of houses. Streets choked with black, rotted weeds. And... symbols. Carved everywhere.
"We go around," Toren says, his hand on his sword. "This place is a death trap."
"Around adds six hours," Felric shoots back. "Through is ninety minutes."
"Through is also stupid," Toren growls.
A-WOOOOOOOOO!
The howl... it's not one. It's... everywhere.
"Wolves," Nyssa says. "Pack. They've got us."
"Formation!" Felric roars. "Defensive circle! Now!"
We slam together, back-to-back. Ten of us in a tiny, pathetic circle. They pour out of the ruined buildings. Gods, they're huge. Twisted, black, corrupted things, with those sick purple-glowing eyes.
And then... he steps out.
A cultist. Robes. A mask. He just... strolls out of a ruined shop, like he's bored.
"Well, well," his voice is oily, just like the air. "The little beacon. How... convenient."
"Let us pass," Felric commands.
"But we have a... quarrel... with him." The masked head swivels, and he points. At me. "The Master wants you, little one. The rest... are just meat."
He waves a hand.
The pack hits us like a wave.
It's just... chaos. Steel, claws, screaming. Toren, Marcus, and Thea are a wall of iron, but the wolves are... strong. Kaela is a red-haired blur, ducking under a lunge, her new sword jabbing deep. Lysara's magic flares, bolts of pure light burning the corrupted flesh. Elira chucks something... a crystal... it thumps and sends out a pulse. The wolves near it stumble, dazed.
"Got three more!" she yells.
It's not enough. They're... just... too many.
A wolf breaks the line. It's... fast. It's on Elira. She screams, scrambling back, but she's not a warrior.
No time. No time.
I reach. I grab the sick ley line. I PULL.
It's... filth. It's cold-fire, purple-black, wrong. It floods into me, and the curse screams in joy.
YES!
I shove my hand at the wolf. A spear of pure black shadow... my shadow... hits it. The wolf doesn't just die. It... pops. Dissolves.
MORE! the curse howls. GIVE. ME. MORE.
Three more turn on me. They know me. They know what I am. They charge.
I don't need the ley line this time.
I just... let go.
The darkness is my hands. It forms claws of shadow. The first one... I just slash. Its throat... opens. The second one... I grab it. Mid-air. And I just... squeeze. The sound... a wet crunch. It just... breaks.
The third one... it... stops. It skids to a halt. It looks at me. And it whimpers.
It's afraid. Of me.
I feel a grin stretch my face. My eyes... they're burning.
"Ren!"
Kaela.
She's... in front of me. Between me and the cowering wolf. Stupid.
"Get... out of the way..." My voice is a growl.
"No." She's not scared. She's... angry. She grabs my shoulders, hard. "Look at me, Ren! It's me! You're not a monster! Come back!"
Her voice... it's... an anchor. In the... the storm of power...
Lysara's hand is on my arm. It's... cool. "Breathe, Ren," she says, her voice calm, level. "Focus. Four in. Seven hold. Eight out."
In... out...
The red... it's... fading. The power... it fights me. It doesn't want to go back in the box. It screams as I shove it down. It hurts.
I... I'm on my knees. Shaking.
The battle... it's over. The rest of the wolves are dead.
The cultist... he's gone.
Crap.
"Damn it!" Felric snarls. "He's gone. He'll warn the Hollow. We lost surprise."
"We never had it," Nyssa says, her voice hollow.
"Status!"
"Minor wounds," Seraphine says, her eyes... on me. "All healed. But... we have a... different problem."
They're all looking at me.
"I'm... sorry," I whisper. "I... I lost..."
"You came back," Kaela says, her voice fierce. "That's what matters."
"This time," Toren says, and his voice is... hard.
I just... sit. Against a wall. The curse is... quiet. But it's... fed. It's stronger. And it's... happy.
Kaela plops down next to me. Shoulder-to-shoulder. Solid. Lysara appears, holding out a waterskin. "Hydration," she says. "It's... tactical."
She sits on my other side. Stiff.
"That was... dangerous," Lysara says, not looking at me. "But... you did regain control. The... the probability of permanent... failure... is... lower than I thought."
Kaela grins, a shaky, tired grin. "She's saying she's glad you're not a monster, in elf-nerd-speak."
"I am not!" Lysara sputters, her cheeks pink. "It's... it's tactically beneficial that..."
Elira flops down in front of us. Her face is pale. "Okay. So that was terrifying. You went... full-on murder-monster."
"Noticed," I mumble.
"Right. So..." She pulls out a... thing. A metal-and-crystal... thing. "I made this. A... 'curse-dampener'. If... if it happens again... really happens..."
"Will it work?"
"Maybe? Seventy percent?" She looks... scared. "It... it'll just... shut you off. The magic. The curse. Everything. For... like... ten minutes."
"Give it to Kaela," I say. My voice is rough.
Kaela takes it. Her hand is steady.
"If... if I don't come back," I whisper. "If I... won't... you... you use it."
"I won't have to," she says. But she tucks it into her belt.
We push on. Through the rest of that... that graveyard. Ashenvale. Nyssa stops. At a... a stone. A memorial, covered in... names.
"I knew them," she whispers. Her hand touches one of the names. "My cousin. She was twelve." She looks at me, her violet eyes... hollow. "Don't let fear make your choices, Ren. Choose. Or you've already lost."
She walks on. We just... follow.
Camp is another cold, miserable circle. Elira's dampeners hum. Toren is... hurting. I can see it. Seraphine is... working on him, her hands glowing. We're all... just... spent.
"One more day," Felric says, his voice a rasp. "Tomorrow... the real fight begins."
I try to sleep. I can't.
The curse... it's not whispering. It's singing. It's fed. It's strong. And it's waiting.
Tomorrow, it purrs. We'll show them. We'll save her. Just... let me.
I lie there, in the dark, Kaela on one side, Lysara on the other.
And I know... when the time comes... when it's her... I'm... I'm going to say yes.