CHAPTER 73: FOR RUNEWOOD!

The battle cry ripped through the night air as Elarya led her band of warriors charging out from the protective barrier of Aetherthorn. Every step pounded with purpose. Their goal was simple but deadly- draw the attention of the two rampaging beasts long enough for the rest of their kin to escape westward toward the distant Thunga Desert.

Elarya’s emerald hair streamed behind her like a banner. Her voice was sharp, resolute. "Make them see us! Keep them away from the children!"

The elves roared in unison, their voices echoing through the forest. Magic-laced arrows hissed past their shoulders, lighting the air with streaks of silver. The sound should have been enough to turn any predator’s head.

But the monsters ignored them.

Neither the Nighthral nor Vulkris shifted their murderous focus. Their claws remained locked, their fangs snapping inches from each other’s throats. Every strike shook the ground like an earthquake. The air itself quivered with the raw malice radiating from the two Primordial Beasts. It was as if nothing- no arrow, no cry, no plea- could tear them from their battle.

Elarya’s jaw tightened. We don’t have time for this...

"Everyone- spread out! Gain elevation and prepare a united ranged volley!" she barked. She angled toward a jagged hill rising not far ahead. If they could reach that high ground, maybe a concentrated strike would break the beasts’ tunnel vision.

"Yes, Queen Mother!" dozens of voices responded as one. Despite the chaos surrounding them, discipline held. Warriors sprinted uphill. Mixed among the elite fighters were younger, untested combatants from the three tribes- Leon’do, Micha’el, Anast’cia, even Gondar- all determined to lay their lives on the line.

Behind them, another group struggled to keep pace. Mathes, still weak and pale, lay on a levitating platform pushed forward by mages. Children clung to each other, wide-eyed, while non-combatants ran alongside, trying to stay quiet despite their terror. Among them, Jeis carried her daughter Jaira close to her chest. Her mind wasn’t on herself- she couldn’t stop worrying about Auren. He hadn’t returned. Neither had his family. Please be safe... please...

Then the earth split with a roar.

ROOOAAAAR!

The Nighthral struck with unnatural speed, its shadow-coated claws raking across Vulkris’ blazing hide. The massive dragon-beast staggered backward, slammed to the ground with a thunderous crash. Splintered trees flew in all directions like twigs. A flash of panic darted across Vulkris’ molten eyes- then the Nighthral’s body began to pulse with an ominous light.

A heavy, suffocating wave of mana surged outward.

[SHADOW DEATH DOMAIN]

The forest bled to black.

From the Nighthral’s form, darkness erupted like a living storm, swallowing everything in its path. In seconds, a swirling dome of shadow- miles wide- expanded to engulf nearly a quarter of Runewood. The night grew unnaturally dense, smothering even the glow of the moons.

Inside that darkness, magic faltered. The elves’ connection to their mana felt strangled, their power gutted by nearly thirty percent. Every breath tasted cold, damp, and heavy- each inhalation clawing at their sanity.

"Wh-what’s happening?! Why is it suddenly night?!" someone screamed.

From within Aetherthorn’s barrier, those who had stayed behind could only watch in horror as the queen’s decoy force vanished into the churning shadows. Panic rippled like wildfire.

"Look! They’re trapped in that black dome! They’re not moving!"

"Mama! H-huhu... I don’t want to die!"

"Please- no more! Stop! Get them away from me!"

"Aaaagh! Help! They’re everywhere!"

Outside the safety of the barrier, chaos devoured discipline. Warriors who had been trained to stand against death itself now clawed at their faces, thrashing wildly. Illusions wormed into their minds, twisting their reality. They saw things no one else could- faces of the dead, scenes of old nightmares. Some relived childhood traumas. Others screamed as invisible hands dragged them down.

Only those with exceptional mental fortitude- mostly the Goldhair Tribe- kept their footing. The rest were drowning in terror.

"Listen to me!" Elarya’s voice cut through the darkness like a whip. "It’s an illusion! Hold your ground!" She ran from soldier to soldier, shaking shoulders, slapping faces, but most were too far gone. Their eyes were glassy. They didn’t even hear her.

She turned sharply. "You- support mage! Can you dispel this?!"

A trembling elf tried to channel magic, her hands glowing faintly. "I’m trying, Queen Mother! But... nothing! The spell fizzles every time I form the circle!"

Elarya cursed under her breath. "The domain is choking our mana..."

Even basic movement techniques felt sluggish. Escape was impossible. Her heart sank.

"Queen Mother!" Micha’el’s voice snapped her back. The young warrior had shaken off the illusion faster than most. "What if we keep running forward? Maybe we can get out of its range- fire from the outside, draw them out!"

Elarya shook her head grimly. "This is a full domain spell. There will be a wall ahead- solid, unbreakable. No one inside can cross it."

Leon’do, pale but conscious, asked, "Then what do we do?"

Before Elarya could answer, another voice- rough, urgent- cut in. "We retreat," Kardel said, appearing from the rear lines. His tone left no room for argument. "If we don’t, we’re finished. I’ve seen this before. Once the illusions take hold... worse things come next."

"Then why are we wasting time?! Fall back!" Micha’el snapped, panic cracking through his voice.

Elarya clenched her fists, but she knew Kardel was right. "All units, retreat! Now!"

They turned to run- stumbling, dragging those still frozen by terror. But it was already too late.

A low growl rumbled across the domain, vibrating in their bones.

From the shadows, the Nighthral’s massive silhouette loomed, its eyes glowing like dying stars. Its lips curled into something disturbingly close to a grin.

"LET’S SEE IF YOU CAN SURVIVE THIS, DOG!" its voice boomed like rolling thunder.

The ground split.

[VILETHORN BLOOM]

A massive magic circle ignited beneath their feet. The soil convulsed. A second later, enormous black thorns burst upward, jagged as obsidian spears.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Each spike was six feet tall, three feet wide, tearing through earth, rock, and tree trunks as though they were paper. The air filled with the sickening sound of wood- and flesh- being pierced.

GROOOOAAAAAR!

Even Vulkris, mighty as it was, screamed as hundreds of thorns impaled its scaled body. Its molten fire dimmed, blood sizzling as it splattered across the shadow-coated ground.

Elarya’s heart lurched. "MOVE! GET OFF THE GROUND!"

But the spikes came too fast. Screams erupted as several elves were skewered before they could even react. Those who avoided the initial strike found themselves trapped between walls of twisting, growing vines, the sharp barbs tearing at their skin.

"Stay together!" Micha’el shouted, hacking at a vine with his blade. Sparks flew. The thorn didn’t even scratch. "Damn it! They’re too strong!"

Leon’do fired an arrow- t snapped in half on impact. Anast’cia threw her wind spell- it fizzled like smoke in water.

The Nighthral’s domain wasn’t just shadows. It was a prison and a deadly one at that.