The fog thickened until the world shrank to a circle of gray no wider than a campfire.
Shadows moved inside it—too many, too fast.
The Ashrend beasts rumbled, forming a half-ring around Aeron. Their ember-lit plates brightened, glowing like cracks in cooling lava.
Above, hooks dug into the cliffside.
Red Talons slid down like spiders.
Silent. Deadly. Precise.
Aeron exhaled heavily.
"Just once," he muttered, "once, I'd like a problem that doesn't involve being hunted or worshipped."
A rope snapped taut.
A shadow dropped.
The first Talon hit the ground without a sound and immediately vanished into the fog.
Aeron drew his sword and backed toward the largest beast—three tons of muscle and volcanic bone.
"Hope you fight better than you listen," he told it.
The beast growled approvingly.
Then everything erupted at once.
A Talon burst from the mist, blades sweeping in a crosscut pattern meant to slice Aeron's head clean off.
Aeron ducked, rolled, and came up inside the beast's shadow just as another Talon lunged from the opposite direction.
The Ashrend beast reared up and slammed its forelegs down, crushing the attacker into the earth with bone-cracking force.
The fog lit with a spray of sparks.
Two more Talons hit Aeron from behind. One drove a dagger into his spine; the other slashed his side.
Aeron staggered—annoyed more than wounded.
"You do realize this grows back, right?"
He backhanded one attacker hard enough to send him sliding across the dirt. The other jumped away, vanishing into the haze.
A deafening roar shook the valley as another beast charged blindly through the fog, swiping at shadows. A Talon flipped onto its back, driving twin hooks into the creature's plated spine.
The beast shrieked—sound like an avalanche—and rolled violently, trying to crush its rider.
Aeron sprinted toward them, sword raised—
—but Serik intercepted him.
The Talon commander stepped from the mist like a ghost, twin raven-feather cloaks drifting behind him.
"Aeron," Serik said calmly. "You fall poorly."
"You track annoyingly," Aeron shot back.
Serik blurred—faster than any human should move. His cursed blade hissed through the air toward Aeron's throat.
Aeron blocked only halfway in time.
Steel met steel—then slid.
Pain flared as the blade cut through Aeron's collarbone and out the other side.
Aeron winced.
"Oh wonderful. A soul-cutting blade. Haven't felt that in a century."
Serik tilted his head. "You heal. But not from this. Not quickly."
Aeron looked down as blackened veins spread from the wound.
"Marvelous. Really. Ten out of ten craftsmanship."
He swung back, forcing Serik into retreat. But the commander flowed around him, always just out of reach.
Meanwhile, the battle exploded around them.
An Ashrend beast inhaled sharply—the ember lines in its chest glowing hot—
—and exhaled a blast of molten ash.
The fog turned into fire.
Three Talons were caught in it, their armor melting, screams muffled by choking dust. Another leapt clear, spinning through the air, only to be swatted mid-flight by a spiked tail.
A beast charged blindly into the fog and collided with a Talon, smashing him into a boulder so hard the rock cracked.
But the Talons weren't overwhelmed.
Far from it.
They adapted instantly.
Hooks dug into beasts' necks.
Cursed blades sliced through glowing plates.
One Talon sprinted up a beast's flank and plunged his sword down into its skull.
The creature collapsed in a shower of embers.
Aeron cursed under his breath.
"Could you stop killing my giant lava wolves? They just met me!"
Serik lunged again. "You care for them?"
"I care for being outnumbered!" Aeron snapped back.
Serik's blade pierced Aeron's stomach, twisting with unnatural precision.
Aeron gasped—not from pain, but irritation.
"Stars above… you are very committed to stabbing me."
Serik pulled the blade free.
Aeron fell to his knees, black veins spreading rapidly.
Then he started laughing softly.
Serik frowned. "Something amuses you?"
"Yes," Aeron said, rising again as bones cracked back into place, "because you still think this ends cleanly."
He thrust his hand downward.
Blood from his wound hit the soil.
The Ashrend beasts all froze.
Then snarled.
Their ember plates flared brighter—responding to the divine residue in Aeron's blood.
Aeron grinned.
"Turns out they don't worship me."
He pointed at Serik.
"They hate whoever spills my blood even more."
Every beast in the pack turned toward the Red Talons.
Serik's eyes widened—not in fear, but calculation.
"Ah," he whispered. "So that's why they never died out. They were waiting."
Aeron raised his sword.
"For what?"
"For you."
The pack charged.
A wall of claws, heat, and fury.
The Talons braced.
Serik vanished into the fog with a streak of shadow.
And Aeron, half-healed and wholly annoyed, charged into the chaos.