?The final fifty feet of the climb were the hardest, not because the rock was steep, but because the air began to change. The crisp, salt-tinged breeze of the ocean was replaced by a heavy, intense stench—a mixture of old blood, wet feathers, and the ammonia of a thousand roosting birds.

  ?Phantom hauled herself over the jagged lip of the cliff, her thick dwarven fingers leaving deep indentations in the granite. She didn't stand immediately. She stayed low, her boots crunching softly on a carpet of sun-bleached debris.

  ?Before her lay a massive, natural ravine that cut deep into the mountain’s heart. It was a cathedral of filth. The walls were lined with thousands of shallow burrows and nests made of tangled driftwood and the ribcages of stolen livestock. Below, in the shadows of the ravine, hundreds of harpies moved in a frantic, disjointed dance. Some fought over a stringy carcass, their shrieks echoing off the stone walls like a chorus of the damned.

  ?"Natural fortress," Phantom muttered, her voice a low dwarven rumble. "More like a slaughterhouse."

  ?She moved with surprising silence for her bulk, finding a vantage point behind a jagged spire of rock that overlooked the main nesting grounds. The thick sea mist began to roll over the cliffside, soaking everything in the ravine. It turned the air gray and heavy, clinging to the feathers of the harpies below.

  ?Phantom reached into her Stash.

  ?The Phantom Arc shimmered around her hand. As she equiped the bow, she felt the Electric Manipulation ability charge up. Phantom took aim. Tiny arcs of blue light began to dance and coalesce around her glove.

  ?She stood, bracing her short, powerful legs against the rock. She drew back a shot.

  ?A bolt of pure white lightning hissed into existence, but it didn't stay small. As it sat drawn back, it acted like a vacuum, drinking in the static and moisture from the mist. The bolt grew, thickening until it was the size of a spear, humming with a sound like a swarm of angry hornets.

  ?She aimed for the densest cluster of harpies near a communal feeding pile.

  ?

  ?The bolt didn't just fly; it tore a tunnel through the mist. As it traveled, jagged arcs of electricity branched out from the main shaft, reaching out to snap at the damp rock and the wet feathers of any creature within ten feet of its path.

  ?When it hit the center of the ravine, the result was catastrophic.

  ?The bolt exploded into a web of chain-lightning. Because the nests were damp and the air was thick with salt-mist, the electricity traveled with terrifying ease. Harpies that hadn't even been touched by the main bolt suddenly stiffened, their bodies convulsing as blue light arced from wingtip to wingtip. The smell of ozone and charred meat instantly filled the ravine, drowning out the stench of rot.

  ?Phantom didn't wait to watch the carnage. She moved like a machine, drawing and firing. Each shot was a thunderous boom that shook the very foundation of the cliff.

  ?Down in the ravine, the panic was total. The harpies weren't warriors; they were predators used to easy prey. Facing a dwarf who commanded the heart of a storm, they did the only thing they knew—they took to the sky.

  ?Dozens of them rose at once, a black cloud of screaming hags and beating wings. But the mist that gave them flight now betrayed them. Each flapping wing acted as a conductor. Phantom’s bolts tracked through the air, jumping from one flyer to the next in a lethal, glowing circuit.

  ?She was halfway through clearing the first wave when the air suddenly went dead.

  ?The shrieks of the dying harpies were still loud, but a strange, heavy pressure settled over the ravine. Phantom’s ears popped. The mist seemed to part, not from a wind, but as if something were displacing the very atmosphere.

  ?High above, perched on the highest spire of the mountain, a silhouette stood out against the bruised sky. It was twice the size of the others, and it didn't move. It simply watched, its head tilted at an unnatural angle.

  ?The chaotic shrieks of the dying colony were suddenly silenced by the presence of their ruler. The Matriarch finally stirred. She didn't scream like her lesser kin. She simply leaned forward and fell into the mist.

  ?Phantom’s eyes tracked the movement. The creature was massive, her wingspan casting a wide, flickering shadow despite the silent beat of her feathers. The bone mask made from a giant bleached elk skull. Stared down, its empty sockets locked onto the dwarf.

  ?Phantom didn't hesitate. She pulled back another shot from the Phantom Arc, and three jagged bolts of white-hot lightning hissed into existence.

  ?

  ?The bolts tore through the salty air, expanding into roaring lances of electricity as they fed on the mist. But the Matriarch was unlike the others. With a flick of her primary feathers, she banked with impossible grace. The first bolt missed her wing by inches. The electricity arcs out, leaving burns on the Matriarch’s wings as it passes. The second and third shot missed completely before they vanished into the fog behind her. She was a ghost in the air, weaving through the arcs of light with predatory focus.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  ?

  ?As the Matriarch tucked her wings for a final, lethal dive—her razor sharp talons reaching out to crush Phantom’s skull—the bow in Phantom’s hand flickered and vanished into her Stash.

  ?In its place, a ripple of distorted air appeared. Phantom’s calloused hand gripped the handle of her hammer.

  ?The Starfall Great Hammer materialized just as the shadow of the owl-beast enveloped her.

  ?The Matriarch expected a cowering prey. Instead, Phantom coiled her thick dwarven legs like steel springs and detonated upward. The ground beneath her boots cracked, sending a spray of gravel into the air as she launched herself fifteen feet straight up.

  ?"Surprise," Phantom grunted.

  ?The Matriarch’s head snapped one hundred eighty degrees, the bone mask tilted in a momentary flash of avian confusion. She tried to flare her wings to brake, but it was too late. Phantom swung the Starfall Hammer in a massive, overhead arc.

  ?The sound was like a mountain splitting open. The meteorite head of the hammer collided squarely with the side of the bone mask. Fragments of ancient antler and calcified bone exploded outward. The force of the blow didn't just stop the Matriarch’s momentum—it sent her spiraling backward, her massive wings flailing as she flipped end-over-end through the air.

  ?Phantom hit the ground in a heavy three-point landing, her boots sinking inches into the bone-littered soil. She didn't look up immediately; she just felt the weight of the hammer settle in her grip.

  ?Above, the Matriarch beat her wings frantically, stabilizing herself thirty feet up. Her mask was shattered on one side, revealing a single, glowing golden eye that blinked in pure shock. She stared down at the small, sturdy figure on the ledge. To a creature that ruled the sky, the laws of physics had just been insulted. Dwarves didn't fly. And they certainly didn't hit like falling stars.

  ?The golden eye of the Matriarch narrowed, and for a heartbeat, the ravine went deathly still. Then, she threw her head back and unleashed a shriek so piercing it shattered the remaining stone spires nearby.

  ?It was a command.

  ?The surviving flock, hundreds of eyes glowing with a frenzied bloodlust, stopped their retreat. They turned as one, a black tide of feathers and talons, and surged toward the ledge.

  ?Phantom didn't flinch. She sent the Starfall Hammer back to her Stash and re-equipped the Phantom Arc in a blur of motion. She didn't fire single shots anymore. She drew back and held it, letting the lightning build until the air itself hummed with a violent, unstable energy.

  ?

  ?She released a volley of chain-lightning. The bolts didn't just hit; they branched, stitching the air together in a web of white-hot death. Harpies dropped like flies, their wings smoking as they tumbled into the dark ravine below. But there were too many. The sky was thick with them, and the sheer volume of bodies began to mask the Matriarch’s movements.

  ?Phantom was so focused on clearing the flock that she didn't hear the silence behind her.

  ?Being an owl-variant, the Matriarch didn't beat her wings to fly; she glided on the muffled air. She moved like a shadow, her massive, razor-sharp claws extended.

  ?Phantom’s Perception screamed at the last millisecond. She twisted her torso, her dwarven boots skidding on the blood-slicked stone, but she wasn't fast enough. Two of the Matriarch's talons plunged deep into Phantom’s lower side, piercing through muscle and grating against her ribs.

  ?Phantom let out a gutteral grunt of agony. The world tilted, the white-hot pain threatening to black out her vision.

  ?Before the Matriarch could retract its claws for a second strike, Phantom’s hand shot out, thick fingers clamping onto the creature’s feathered arm with the strength of a vice.

  ?"Got you," Phantom wheezed through gritted teeth.

  ?She didn't use the bow. She channeled her Electric Manipulation directly through her palm. A massive surge of raw voltage erupted into the Matriarch. The creature’s pupils blown wide as its entire body went rigid. Its muscles seized, the bone-mask rattling against its skull as the current cooked it from the inside out.

  ?The smell of burning feathers was nauseating. As the electricity ebbed, the Matriarch slumped, paralyzed and helpless.

  ?Phantom didn't hesitate. With her free hand, she pulled the Starfall Hammer from the rift. She didn't have the strength for a flourish. She simply coiling every remaining ounce of energy into one final, over-arcing swing.

  ?The hammer slammed into the Matriarch’s neck with the weight of a falling star. There was a sickening snap of vertebrae. The Sovereign of the mountain went limp.

  ?Phantom slumped to her knees, gasping for air, her hand pressed firmly against the gaping holes in her side. Blood—warm and dark—flowed between her fingers. Phantom put her equipent into her stash knowing the fight was over. She looked at the lifeless body of the Matriarch for a long moment before reaching out and snapping off one of its primary claws.

  ?Her vision began to blur, the edges of the world fraying into gray. Trophies, her mind whispered. Must... get the trophies.

  ?In a daze of blood loss, she crawled through the gore-stained ravine, her hands trembling as she retrieved a piece from each of the fallen elite harpies. Every movement was a battle against the darkness pulling at her mind.

  ?Finally, she reached the cliff edge. Below, the sailboat looked like a toy in the sapphire water. She tried to call out, but her voice was a dry rasp. The world spun. Her knees buckled, and she pitched forward, falling into the empty air.

  ?The splash of the cold salt water was the only thing that kept her heart beating.

  ?The next thing Phantom knew, the sky was above her again, though it was being blocked by the panicked faces of the boatmen. They were hauling her onto the deck, their hands stained with her blood.

  ?"Don't move, Hero!" one of them shouted, pressing a wad of cloth to her side. "You've lost too much... stay with us!"

  ?Phantom weakly raised one arm. Slowly, she began to drop the harpy parts—talons, feathers, the Matriarch’s claw—into a small pile on the deck.

  ?"Put these... in a container," she rasped, her voice barely a whisper. "Then... a drop of my blood. On the container."

  ?As she spoke, the small rift flickered open, and the glowing Recall Crystal tumbled out, landing on top of the grisly trophies.

  ?"Once the blood is on it..." Phantom looked the lead boatman in the eye, her gaze fading. "Crush the crystal for me. Please."

  ?The boatman nodded, his eyes wide with a mix of reverence and grief. As he reached for the crystal, the world finally went dark for Phantom, and the silence of the ocean took her.