The days of laughter were over.
The halls once filled with warmth and chatter had grown quiet. The servants spoke in hushed tones. Children no longer played in the gardens. A heaviness blanketed the estate like a storm waiting to break. Though the sky remained clear, every heart knew—it wouldn't stay that way for long.
Then, it began.
A guard burst into the main hall, where a tense council meeting was underway. His armor was scraped, and his breath came in ragged bursts.
"We've… we've been surrounded!" he gasped, collapsing to his knees.
The hall fell silent.
One of the elders stood and asked grimly, "Surrounded… by whom?"
The guard raised his face, pale with terror. "I… I don't know. They aren't human."
A hush spread like wildfire.
Across the valley, beyond the final border of the estate, a figure cloaked in darkness stood on a jagged cliff overlooking the main house. Wind pulled at his tattered robes, and his skin—if it was skin—shifted like shadow-glass.
He grinned.
"I've come to get her."
He raised his arm—and with that single gesture, a silent army began to march.
Soldiers without faces. Armored beasts with burning eyes. Cloaked phantoms that glided rather than walked. They moved as one—a tide of darkness rolling over the earth.
Back at the estate, the outer guards saw the movement. One of them froze in horror, his hand trembling as he reached for the chain beside the tower bell.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The emergency bell echoed across the mountain, its chimes splitting the air.
Inside the manor, council members leapt to their feet. Auren was the first to run, storming up the nearest tower. Others followed behind.
From the top, they saw it—the black mass crawling over the hills, headed straight for them.
At its helm stood the figure Auren recognized.
His face darkened. "No… it can't be…"
Without hesitation, he turned to the others. "Get the guards into position. Prepare for war."
Auren pulled Siora and Daran aside.
"Take the children and women. Use the old passage beneath the estate. Go now."
Siora's eyes flared. "No, I'm not running—"
But Daran placed a hand on her shoulder, steady and silent. She stopped.
Auren looked to Lyra, his voice low and firm. "You must go. You're not safe here."
"I don't want to leave you—"
"You have to," he said, forcing her into his arms. "Live, Lyra. That's how we protect each other now."
With that, the hidden passage was opened—a dark corridor beneath the manor, carved into the mountainside. Daran led the way, torches flickering against damp stone. Siora followed close behind, ushering the women and children.
Hours passed in the shadows.
The tunnel opened at the base of the mountain, into a wooded clearing.
But the moment they stepped out—they saw them.
Figures already waiting. More of the enemy. Somehow, they knew.
From behind them, smoke rose from the manor. The battle had begun above.
But now, it was starting here too.
Screams tore the air. Blades clashed. Mantras rang out like thunder.
Daran leapt forward, commanding the tribal warriors into formation. "Protect the children!" he roared, his sword flashing with blue light.
Siora pulled the younger ones behind her, shouting over the chaos. "Stay together! Move!"
But the enemy surged forward—endless, inhuman.
A black-armored soldier swung toward Thalen. The boy flinched, but Aylea pulled him back and shouted a mantra. A flash of gold light hit the attacker, slowing him for a moment.
"I don't know how long that will hold!" she yelled, her voice cracking with fear.
Thalen began his own chant. "Shield of roots, bind this ground—!"
The children fought, clumsily but bravely. They had only learned a few mantras, and already exhaustion clouded their minds. Their hands shook. Their breath came in gasps.
And still, the enemy pressed on.
A spear whistled past Lyra's head. She ducked, heart hammering. Her hands burned, her blood felt too hot.
Everywhere around them—people were dying.
Warriors fell. One woman stepped in front of a child and took a blade through the back. A healer screamed as shadowy claws dragged her down.
Lyra watched in horror. The world around her blurred with grief and terror.
Siora stood tall amidst the chaos, blood on her blade, her voice raw with fury. She looked back and saw the children faltering, eyes wide with horror.
"Run!" she screamed. "Don't look back—RUN!"
The command snapped like lightning.
"Go!" shouted Daran, fighting three at once.
Lyra, Thalen, Aylea, and the others ran—through the forest, through the smoke, the sound of battle crashing behind them. The trees blurred. Arrows flew overhead. Screams chased them like ghosts.
Lyra looked back once—and saw Siora still fighting, a crimson arc swinging from her blade.