What rose from the ground beneath us was a creature unlike anything I’d ever seen—an enormous being of teal and gold spectral light. It swam through the air as though the sky were water, its form shifting fluidly between shapes I couldn’t fully comprehend. Whatever it was, it was nothing like the carp I’d glimpsed from afar in the graveyard the night before.

  “This is incredible!” Lyria shouted over the rising wind, gripping my arm for balance.

  “It’s a massive shark-whale—!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen magic this beautiful!”

  I nodded, unsure what creature she was referencing, but clinging to the luminous construct all the same.

  Beside us, Bront peered down through the creature’s translucent body, watching the ground sink away below. For the first time, something close to fear cracked his usually unshakable expression.

  Selene stood rigid, her eyes fixed forward, refusing to look down. The tension in her shoulders made it clear she had absolutely no desire to be suspended this high atop a colossal arcane beast.

  Kaela, on the other hand, looked as though she had been waiting her entire life for something this ridiculous. She whooped and bounced with the rise of the creature’s back, her scarlet hair whipping violently in the wind.

  Including the thirteen soldiers accompanying us, we rode twenty-six strong on the spectral creature’s broad back—and we still had room to spare. I turned back, looking past its massive dorsal fin. The view through the teal membrane warped the world beyond, making Night’s Reach shimmer and bend like a town submerged underwater.

  The sight made my stomach churn.

  Lyria continued muttering excitedly beside me about spell structure and mana design, but I could barely focus. My heart hammered in my chest. Whether it was our bizarre mode of travel or the battle awaiting us, my nerves felt as fragile as stained glass.

  After fighting the urge for some time as we soared through the sky, against my better judgment, I looked down.

  The black trees of the Fellwood passed beneath us like a churning sea of rot. Their branches twisted unnaturally, swaying with a rhythm that felt alive and wrong. A sour, fetid scent rose from the canopy—rot mixed with something acidic—that burned my nostrils. For a ranger as attuned to the scents of wild forests as I was, the smell was an assault.

  Then, something moved.

  A small black shape rocketed upward from the canopy. I narrowed my eyes, instincts snapping into place.

  Small.

  Black.

  Winged.

  A raven—except not a raven.

  As it closed the distance with impossible speed, I saw the sickly green glow in its eyes.

  I opened my mouth to shout a warning—

  “Incoming—!” Darron’s voice cut across the wind a heartbeat before mine.

  The creature slammed into the underside of the spectral shark-whale and exploded—an eruption of black and green energy that shook the construct beneath our feet.

  As my eyes adjusted from the sudden flash, I glanced back downward.

  And froze.

  A black mass poured out of the treetops—dozens, no, hundreds of the same twisted birds, shrieking as they shot toward us like a volley of living arrows.

  The sky erupted.

  A thunderous wave of beating wings swallowed the air around us, the sound like a thousand knives slicing through the wind. Our spectral ride shuddered beneath our feet, trying to pick up speed as the corrupted ravens gained altitude, their bodies trailing streaks of greenish-black vapor.

  “Shields up! SHIELDS UP!” platoon leader Coles roared somewhere ahead of us.

  The soldiers scrambled, raising shields overhead just as the first wave hit.

  The impact wasn’t like birds striking wood—it was like acid-tipped projectiles slamming into steel. Black feathers burst against the shields, each explosion a crack of sickly green light.

  Bront stepped in front of me, raising his shield with both arms as a raven smashed into it, detonating with a screech.

  “What in the hells—?!” he bellowed over the riot of sound.

  Selene clutched the hilt of her sword, panic flickering across her face. “They’re trying to bring us down!”

  “She’s right,” I muttered. “This is too coordinated…”

  Kaela ducked as another raven shot past her face, exploding in a flare that singed a line across her cheek.

  “Oh COME ON!” she yelled, spinning her spear. “You want to FLY? Let’s FLY!”

  She thrust upward, skewering one of the incoming birds before it reached us. It burst like a rotten fruit.

  Lyria grabbed my sleeve, her voice raw with fear. “Yukon—this spell wasn’t made to withstand repeated mana detonations!”

  She was right.

  Each explosion rippled through the construct beneath us, dimming its teal glow just a little more.

  Below us, the Fellwood writhed—branches bending, reaching, as if celebrating the chaos in the air.

  Celeste’s voice cut through the storm.

  “Hold—on—!”

  She stood at the front of the construct, both hands thrust forward, the Ice Wyrm’s crystal blazing like a dying star. Blue and gold light streamed from her palms, reinforcing the shark-whale’s form as new cracks of light split across its back.

  More birds erupted from below—twice as many as before.

  My heart seized.

  “We’re not going to make it,” I whispered.

  Lyria’s grip tightened on my arm.

  The sky darkened with the swarm, their shrieks tearing at my ears as they arrowed toward us in a tide of black malice—

  “Aurelia’ni—Faejunae!” Murasa bellowed against the chaos.

  Words I couldn’t make out.

  But in the next instant, a flash of golden radiance exploded outward.

  The world went white for a moment.

  When my vision adjusted, Murasa stood at the crown of the shark-whale, wings of golden light extending from his back, maul raised to the heavens. Emanating from his figure was pure radiant energy, pulsing, and pushing back the torrent of Fell birds with each wave. Behind him Celeste worked with trembling hands to mend the construct, but the cracks only grew, and the Ice Wyrm’s mana crystal was dimming fast.

  “HANG ON—!” Haizen bellowed over the din, facing back, as the shark-whale began dipping, closing toward the forest faster and faster with each passing second.

  Celeste clenched her teeth so hard it drew blood, trying desperately to right our trajectory.

  More corrupted ravens began slipping through Murasa’s barrier, tearing apart the spectral beast with each blast.

  I cursed to myself while hanging on for dear life, but up ahead something drew my eyes. A clearing in the Fellwoods, and within, I could almost make out the edges of some ruins.

  That had to be our target.

  “Lyria—!” I tried to call but was quickly interrupted.

  The shark-whale lurched downward hard, its once-fluid motion turning jagged and broken as it plummeted toward the Fellwood canopy. Celeste screamed through gritted teeth, forcing more power into the fading construct—but the Ice Wyrm’s crystal hovering between her hands dimmed to a pale white, flickered…

  …and shattered.

  A crystalline crack reverberated through the air.

  The entire spell rippled, stuttered—

  Then collapsed.

  The spectral beast disintegrated beneath our feet in a burst of teal and gold light.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  And twenty-six bodies dropped out of the sky.

  Someone screamed. Someone else prayed. The wind punched the breath from my lungs as gravity seized me.

  “LYRIA!” I gasped, reaching for her as the world spun. For a fleeting instant our hands nearly brushed—her eyes wide with terror, hair whipping wildly—

  A black vine shot upward from the canopy like a striking serpent, snapping between us and knocking her away.

  “NO—!”

  Selene tumbled in the distance, braids snapping in the wind as she spiraled downward. Kaela plummeted somewhere near her—spear clutched desperately as she fell toward the trees. Bront kicked wildly, trying to control his descent, he managed to veer toward Lyria as they dropped.

  Just ahead of them, the soldiers and Murasa’s companions scattered like loose arrows.

  We were all being thrown to the damn winds.

  A flash of gold came then and stole my view of the others.

  A cluster of reaching vines—thick, thorned, and writhing with malevolent intent—lashed upward then to meet me.

  Instinct flared. Training sharpened. Panic burned away.

  Lunae… I need you.

  Cold clarity burst through my veins, icy blue light threading through my vision as the white wolf’s power enveloped my limbs, fortifying muscle and nerve, slowing the world to a crystalline crawl.

  I drew my sword mid-fall, the silver portion of the blade igniting with a faint lunar sheen.

  The first vine snapped toward my throat.

  I cut it in half.

  Another shot for my ankle—I twisted, slicing through it as the thorns grazed my boot. More vines followed, dozens, then hundreds, writhing upward like a living net hungry to impale and devour.

  I became motion.

  Pale light blurred around me as I slashed a path through the reaching tendrils, each impact vibrating up my arms, every heartbeat a countdown toward the earth rushing up beneath me.

  A massive and twisted trunk loomed from the canopy below—thick, angled, and passing fast.

  It was my only chance.

  I twisted, gritting my teeth, and thrust the sword downward—

  Steel pierced bark.

  The impact nearly ripped my arms from their sockets. My shoulder screamed. My wrist buckled. Sparks burst behind my eyes.

  But it slowed me.

  I skid along the trunk, carving a long furrow through its surface before the sword finally wrenched free and sent me tumbling onto a lower bough. I hit hard—rolled—caught myself—clinging desperately to a large branch.

  Pain washed through me in a white-hot wave.

  I hung there for a moment, gasping, chest heaving, the taste of sap and iron in my mouth.

  The forest below hissed with movement.

  Shrill cries echoed from deeper within the trees—those damned corrupted birds still wheeling above. The vines beneath my perch writhed, searching.

  But above me…

  I saw nothing of my party.

  No Lyria.

  No Selene.

  No Kaela.

  No Bront.

  Only falling leaves, drifting like ashes in the dim light.

  I swallowed hard.

  “We’re scattered…” I whispered, pulse still hammering. “Damn it—we’re scattered.”

  Somewhere in this cursed wood, my friends had also landed in the darkness.

  And I had no idea who had survived the fall.

  I glanced down once more, my grip loosening.

  Pooling Lunae’s energy into my legs, I dropped, falling fast and hard, landing in the damp soil with a dull thud.

  The vines seemed to have calmed again, for now.

  I began spinning my head, searching my direct vicinity, when a hand fell on my shoulder.

  “AHH—!”

  I jumped back, pointing my sword at what I expected to be a Fell nightmare creature. Instead, standing there, cloak ripped, face bloodied, was Darron the rogue.

  He pressed one finger to his lips, eyes darting around nervously.

  “Quiet,” he whispered.

  He jerked his chin toward the trees.

  The canopy above was so dense it strangled the light, turning everything into muted greys and sickly greens. Trees twisted like ancient bones, their trunks covered in patches of pulsating black fungus that throbbed faintly as if alive. A damp mist coiled low to the ground, carrying with it the stench of rot, sour weeds, and something metallic—like old blood. Vines writhed lethargically along tree trunks and through soil. It was as if the entire forest was alive.

  “You came in here once before…?” he whispered, more of a statement than a question.

  I nodded silently.

  “How did you make it through?”

  “Warding magic…” I muttered.

  “Tch,” he clicked his tongue. “And I don’t suppose that was your specialty?”

  I shook my head.

  A low rumbling from somewhere deep in the darkness stole our breaths. We turned toward the sound at the same slow pace.

  I grabbed Darron’s collar and pulled him close enough to whisper.

  “I saw old stonework—a small clearing—just before we fell. I’m betting that’s the hot spot Celeste mentioned,” I said, glancing back through the oppressive wall of trees. “We head there.”

  His slate-grey eyes studied mine.

  “You’re sure?”

  I shrugged. “No… but do you have a better idea?”

  He exhaled, but before he could respond, the rumble sounded again, closer this time. Too close.

  Our gazes met—wide, tense. We nodded once, and moved.

  I took the lead, following the direction I thought the ruins had been. They’d looked to be on a slight rise, so with nothing else to guide us, I steered us toward higher ground.

  All my years training in the wilderness—honing my instincts, reading wind, scent, and soil—felt useless in this cursed wood.

  Every smell was the same putrid rot. The canopy dimmed the world to a sickly haze. Fog and tightly packed trees crushed visibility. And from every direction came unnatural echoes: scraping bone against bark, a slick dragging sound, and calls from creatures I’d never heard.

  We moved in absolute silence, Darron with the grace of a shadow, myself with practiced caution, but even so my heart hammered in my ribs. Worse yet, I couldn’t shake the ever lingering sense that something was watching us.

  I wished we had a magic user with us…

  Someone who could feel the Fell corruption and steer us toward its source.

  A thought struck me—sharp and sudden.

  I halted abruptly, causing Darron to nearly run into me.

  “Tenebrae…” I whispered, barely breathing the word. I raised a finger to Darron for silence.

  Shadow blacker than pitch pooled beside me, swirling and coalescing into Tenebrae’s familiar form. His crimson eyes snapped open and he regarded me with a subtle nod.

  Darron paled, but to his credit, he didn’t make a sound.

  “Help us find the ruins,” I whispered. “Lead us to where the corruption is strongest.”

  Tenebrae stared for a moment, glowing eyes narrowing, then dipped his head.

  He sniffed once—twice—then lifted his gaze and stared off into the trees.

  I glanced back at Darron once more. “Let’s go…”

  Tenebrae slipped forward like a serpent of living shadow, padding silently over roots and moss. Darron and I followed, careful to place each foot exactly where Tenebrae did. Every snapped twig, every wrong step felt like announcing ourselves to the entire forest.

  The deeper we went, the thicker the mist became—clinging to our skin like cold fingers, muffling sound even as the distant skittering grew sharper.

  Tenebrae halted suddenly.

  I froze behind him, senses flaring.

  Something lay ahead—a shape slumped between two twisted roots.

  Darron tapped my arm and pointed.

  A body.

  Armored.

  One of the soldiers.

  He was wedged between the black wood unnaturally, body contorted to fit. His face, sticking out, was pale, drained, the eyes sunken and half-open as if staring at something terrible in his last moments.

  Darron swallowed. “Poor bastard never had a chance.”

  Tenebrae didn’t even pause. He slipped around the corpse and kept moving.

  I forced myself to look away and followed.

  Minutes—maybe only seconds—passed before Tenebrae slowed again. His hackles rose, spectral fur rippling against a wind that didn’t exist.

  My stomach turned to ice.

  Another body.

  But this time… familiar armor.

  A polearm lay snapped in two nearby. Blonde hair tangled in a branch above the corpse. A hand still gripped a dagger at her belt, white-knuckled even in death.

  Helaine.

  She had been thrown into a spiked tree trunk with such force her entire torso had been pierced. Her glazed eyes stared blankly at the canopy.

  Darron stiffened beside me, his jaw tightening. “Saints…”

  I closed my eyes briefly, honoring her in silence, biting back the bile rising in my throat.

  Tenebrae growled softly then—not at her, but at something ahead.

  Something moving.

  Something wrong.

  The mist shifted.

  Branches creaked—slow, deliberate, like something dragging itself upright.

  Darron raised his dagger.

  I lifted my sword.

  Tenebrae stepped protectively in front of me, shadow rippling off him like smoke.

  And then, from the darkness between the trees…

  something stepped into view.

  Humanoid.

  Tall.

  Armor fused to flesh in twisted plates.

  Hair golden and matted.

  Eyes glowing sickly green.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  Because beneath the corruption—beneath the Fell rot twisting the features—I recognized the face.

  An adventurer who had gone missing weeks ago.

  Someone I’d met during that very first emergency quest.

  August. Leader of the Swords of Augustine.

  Now nothing but a Fell husk, sword melted to his arm.

  It opened its mouth—and the sound that came out was not human.

  A rasping scream tore through the forest.

  And without a second's hesitation, he charged.