Chapter 26: Lost Hope

  The night stretched on, a vast expanse of darkness cloaking the Redwood domain. Seraphion, Elaine, Xin-ta, and Joseph made their way through the labyrinth of colossal tree trunks, guided by faint starlight filtering through the dense canopy overhead. This was no mere five or six-hour night—this planet’s rotation ensured that darkness lasted a full 24 hours. And they were only halfway through, with the other half still looming ahead. Every step carried the weight of exhaustion, dread, and an urgency born of survival.

  The hush of the forest was anything but soothing: occasionally, a harsh cry from distant creatures echoed, or the soft glow of pale bioluminescent fungi revealed the twisted shapes of massive roots. A faint wind rustled the treetops, carrying the scent of moss, damp earth, and underlying rot. Elaine had always imagined alien planets as wondrous places brimming with exotic flora and fauna she could study. Yet this world felt more like a predator’s playground, where every living being seemed to be part of a brutal, unrelenting food chain.

  They had endured so much already. Only hours before, Elaine had confronted her body’s forced evolution; Xin-ta had nearly killed her in a heated misunderstanding; Seraphion had collapsed after unleashing a catastrophic flame attack on a vicious Nightmare Stalker. Joseph clung to life with his battered gear. They should have been resting, but necessity drove them on.

  “Half the night remains,” Xin-ta muttered, ears angled warily. She slowed her pace, stepping over a fallen log. Her eyes shone a faint gold in the dim starlight. “We must reach Outpost Wyvern soon. They have watchfires, supplies… and we can get real rest.” She paused, scanning the surroundings. “If the outpost stands at all.”

  At Xin-ta’s solemn tone, Elaine felt a pang of sympathy. The beast-woman’s clan had pinned its hopes on this outpost for warning and protection. That so much hinged on a single bastion underscored the precariousness of their situation. Elaine clutched her new makeshift spear, one she had quickly put together, in her calloused grip, remembering the swirl of emotions—repulsion, anger, and sorrow—that filled her heart as she thought of the monstrous beings prowling these woods.

  Joseph cast a sidelong look at Elaine. He didn’t speak her language fully, nor did he grasp the intricacies of Xin-ta’s clan. Still, he recognized the tension coiling in everyone’s posture. “We’re… close, yes?” he asked in a halting manner, using body language and short phrases that Marious had taught him. She gave a curt nod.

  Seraphion, gliding near Elaine with wings partially furled, kept silent. The archangel’s presence alone would have been astonishing in any world, but now, the group had grown accustomed to her regal, if subdued, aura. Yet Elaine could sense the archangel’s worry. She carried the burdens of Wrath and Patience—divine extremes that weighed heavily on her soul, especially on a night as bleak as this.

  They trudged forward, breath coalescing in the chilly air, each step stirring the thick carpeting of fallen needles and leaves that blanketed the forest floor. Though it was the middle of the night, a feeble luminance filtered through pockets of starlight or reflected off the planet’s smaller moon overhead. Elaine exhaled, hugging her arms around her torso to fend off the chill. The physical ache was one thing—her partially healed wounds throbbed with every motion—but the psychological toll was becoming unbearable.

  She thought of the Nightmare Stalkers: pack hunters that used mimicry to toy with their prey, scaly and cunning, howling in voices they copied from their victims. She remembered their horrifying grin, eyes like embers in a bottomless pit. Once, the notion of an unknown predator might have excited her curiosity as a scholar. But the unrelenting, savage brutality of these creatures left her convinced that extermination might well be the only answer.

  She recalled the conversation that had taken place earlier, with Xin-ta and Joseph both explaining why they believed the beasts needed to die. A wave of guilt churned in her gut: for Elaine, a self-professed animal lover, it was a bitter pill to swallow, discarding her ideals in the face of unspeakable malice.

  “What’s the matter, Elaine?” Joseph asked, noticing her slowed pace. He tried to keep his voice gentle, though the ever-present anxiety of their surroundings tugged at his composure.

  She forced a tight smile. “Just… reconciling the idea that we might have to kill more of these creatures.” Her voice trembled with frustration. “I used to dream about discovering new species, protecting them, ensuring we never lose precious life. Now I’m …complicit in their annihilation.” She flinched at her own words.

  Xin-ta cast a sympathetic glance over her shoulder. “E’lain, I do not think you fully see how monstrous they are. The elders say these Magic Demons once nearly destroyed our clan ages ago, if not for the Guardian’s protection.”

  “That doesn’t quell my conscience,” Elaine muttered bitterly, voice thick with sorrow. “I might have no choice… but it tears at me.”

  A hush settled. After a moment, Seraphion spoke in a quiet hush, “We walk in a realm of nightmares, Elaine. Warped creatures that devour for sport. Sometimes, standing firm in your beliefs becomes a double-edged sword. Protecting the innocent can mean harming the guilty.” The archangel’s dark wings ruffled, and arcs of faint, intangible magic crackled in the air. “It is the price of survival in a world turned dark.”

  Elaine only grew more solum as she pondered the meaning behind Sera’s words. “It… well it would have to be a necessity… I don’t like to think of myself as a person that goes around and kills things just because I don’t like something… but these creatures, they are more like savage humans that have lost their reasoning… So I guess if it came down to it, well I think I would be able to see it through.”

  Seraphion could only nod at her Human for that one. She knew that her human was a softy but this world would not suffer the loss of a naive woman who cared more for animals than herself.

  They emerged from the darkest stretch of forest onto a broad corridor lined by massive, ancient trunks. Elaine’s eyes widened as she spotted flickers of light in the distance, bouncing off uneven silhouettes. Could it be the watchfires of Outpost Wyvern? The possibility sparked a flicker of relief in her chest.

  Xin-ta hissed to get their attention and motioned for them to gather in the shadow of a fallen trunk that lay half-buried in a knoll. The group crouched, peering across a wide clearing. There, in the faint glow of torchlight and a handful of fires, Outpost Wyvern finally came into view.

  The outpost perched atop a rocky outcrop, its design fashioned from logs, sharpened stakes, and reinforced beams driven deep into the stony ground. Wooden palisades encircled the perimeter, two or three short watchtowers bridging the uneven heights of the boulders behind them. Dimly lit by oil lanterns, the walls flickered with scattered silhouettes. Overlapping voices and occasional clashing steel and flesh reverberated through the night—grim signs of conflict. Already, Elaine’s heart pounded. She dreaded encountering another scene of carnage, reminiscent of the harrowing battles with the Nightmare Stalkers.

  “It looks intact,” Joseph whispered. Through the gloom, he discerned that the gates were closed. “At least the outpost still stands.”

  Xin-ta’s face tightened. “But for how long? The defenders obviously remain under siege. Listen to those war cries.” She directed their attention to the unearthly shrieks beyond the walls. The group tensed, eyes darting in search of the dwellers. But the immediate vicinity was eerily quiet, a sign that the main horde was concentrated on the far side of the outpost or along the walls.

  Seraphion’s wings twitched restlessly. “We must approach carefully,” she said. “Though if the dwellers have taken the field, any open arrival might provoke an attack from both friend and foe alike.” She glanced at Elaine’s battered condition, at Xin-ta’s trembling arms, and at Joseph’s depleted rifle. A sigh escaped her lips. “We can’t afford another direct confrontation, not with such uncertain prospects.”

  Elaine felt a powerful ache in her chest. The outpost likely housed innocents—clan families, watchers, perhaps a few hunters. They didn’t deserve to be overshadowed by the monstrous dwellers. Yet the question remained: Could they help, or would they only add to the defenders’ burdens?

  “Night is only half done,” Xin-ta muttered. “We have at least twelve more hours until Father Sun rises. The dwellers typically vanish by dawn. If they have come in force…” She swallowed hard, not wanting to finish her thought.

  Joseph stepped forward, frowning. He recalled how savage the dwellers had been, ripping and devouring everything in their path. “We might need to slip around, bypass the outpost entirely. If we can find a vantage, maybe I can see how many dwellers are there.”

  Xin-ta growled softly, but not at Joseph. Her anger was directed at the dire circumstances. “I want to help my clan, but foolish heroics might cost us everything. Let’s scout first, as you say. Then decide.”

  The group slipped around a small ridge of stone that jutted from the forest floor, edging closer to the outpost’s perimeter. From behind the cover of a thick redwood root, they glimpsed several large shadows darting across the palisade. The ragged movements, the lethal shrieks—Nightmare Stalkers. At a far corner, a hulking shape hammered at the wooden defenses. A Vanguard. The logs quivered under its assault, but outpost defenders fired arrows from above, forcing it to draw back, snarling.

  “I see at least five,” Joseph murmured. “No, six Vanguards… oh no.” His voice trailed off in alarm as he noticed two slender forms among them, each radiating a deep red glow. Elaine recalled the savage might of the single Dread Vanguard she had encountered. These forms were reminiscent but taller, thinner, holding staves of twisted bone. Flames intermittently flickered along the staves. They seemed to be preparing spells to unleash on the fortress. Vanguard Casters.

  “This outpost is being assaulted by a whole host,” Xin-ta said, eyes wide with dread. “They came in force tonight. I’ve never seen the dwellers muster so many.”

  Elaine’s throat constricted at the sight. The palisade was doomed unless a miracle intervened. Flames bloomed at random intervals along the sharpened logs. She could make out silhouettes of clan defenders battling bravely, but the mismatch of power was painfully clear. Then she heard it—a single, distant voice that cut through the night air, raw with desperation, calling for help in a language she could not grasp. The outpost was crying out for aid.

  Her breath hitched. She turned to Seraphion, tears brimming. “We can’t just… watch them die,” she insisted, voice trembling. “Is there truly nothing we can do?”

  Seraphion touched Elaine’s shoulder lightly. “My divine flame might slay many. But the cost… might be the outpost itself, consumed in the inferno. The defenders, too, would perish.” The archangel’s eyes flickered with regret. “I’m sorry. My power is not refined enough for such a large-scale rescue.”

  A strangled whimper escaped Elaine’s lips. She felt her conscience tearing in two. She wanted nothing more than to charge in, to do something. But the risk was colossal, and rationally, she knew they would only join the outpost’s defenders in a swift demise. The dwellers looked too numerous and too well organized, especially with the Casters commanding arcs of flame that soared over the walls with a savage majesty.

  “This is the fruit of the Guardian’s death,” Xin-ta whispered shakily, tail swishing in agitation. “The dwellers from below gather in an unstoppable tide. Our clan city lies deeper in the Redwood. If Outpost Wyvern falls, the city will be the next target. I must get there, warn them. We have no time left.”

  Joseph cursed softly, scanning the horde again. “No way we can break that siege. There must be at least thirty to forty Nightmare Stalkers, five or six Vanguards, and those two… ‘Vanguard Casters’?” He whistled under his breath. “Even an advanced Kul battalion would find that daunting. Let’s circle wide and keep going. I’m sorry, truly.”

  Elaine choked back a sob, her mind flashing with images of innocent outpost dwellers devoured or burned alive. The creatures advanced in a wave of malice, unstoppable at night’s peak. The group’s posture sagged, resigned to the truth. They had to slip by, outrun the dwellers, and alert the clan city. Perhaps with an army of beast-folk and whatever secrets they held, they could stand a chance at retaliation once daylight came. But for Wyvern, the night spelled almost certain doom.

  She made to speak, to put voice to her sorrow. But at that moment, Xin-ta grabbed her arm and yanked her behind a thick trunk. “Get down!” she hissed, fear brightening her eyes. The group crouched in the undergrowth, hearts pounding. Overhead, the gloom parted, revealing a single monstrous shape gliding behind the outpost. Even among the dwellers, this being dwarfed the Vanguards. Its silhouette was draconic, with wings that shimmered faintly under the starry sky. Elaine couldn’t recognize the creature that had emerged.

  Her blood ran cold. If that creature joined the siege… The outpost’s defenders had no chance.

  “Stay hidden,” Seraphion urged, voice tight. She recalled the monstrous draconid that had attacked them earlier. Could it be the same species? Or, horrifyingly, something even stronger? She thought to herself.

  For agonizing minutes, the group remained in place, letting the monstrous shape disappear behind the outpost. The din of screams, roars, and crackling flames raged on, interspersed with the clash of steel or wood. Even from this distance, the stench of burning timber and the copper tang of spilled blood seeped into Elaine’s nostrils.

  At last, Joseph prodded them, voice grim. “They have the advantage. Let’s move. If we wait, we risk being flanked again.”

  Step by painful step, they retreated from the outpost’s perimeter. Elaine took one last, tearful look at the silhouette of wooden walls battered by unholy flames. She heard a harrowing wail—possibly the defenders’ last cry. Her stomach lurched, forcing her to fight down a wave of nausea. Then, she and the others turned away, forging deeper into the Redwood domain, searching for the faint hope of saving the clan’s city.

  Time lost meaning as they navigated giant roots and waded through bramble-choked gullies, guided mostly by Xin-ta’s uncanny familiarity with the land. Their progress remained slow, for each had wounds or burdens sapping their strength. Elaine tottered on the edge of collapse, but Joseph stayed near, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Seraphion hovered like a guardian wraith, wings brushing Elaine’s shoulder in silent reassurance. Xin-ta forged ahead, driven by primal instincts to secure reinforcements for her people.

  At last, they found a small clearing overshadowed by a fallen redwood trunk. The trunk was so large that it effectively formed a natural archway, with enough space beneath for them to hide from possible pursuers. The churned-up earth suggested that beastfolk might have once used this place as a rest stop or vantage point, leaving behind faint footprints.

  “Here,” Xin-ta declared, dropping to one knee. Her chest heaved with fatigue, she breathed in ragged pants. “We must rest… for just a moment, gather ourselves. If the clan city is half a day or more beyond this point, we cannot do it all at once.”

  Joseph nodded, gently lowering Elaine into a sitting position. “Yes… good idea,” he said, forcing a tight smile. “We need to keep our wits about us. If something finds us again, we’d be in no shape to flee.”

  Elaine remained silent, still grappling with the carnage left behind them. She hardly noticed as Seraphion knelt at her side, checking the condition of her bandages. Each patch of linen was stained a dark maroon, and her once neat clothing had reduced to a ragged mesh. Her skin burned with dull pain in the deeper lacerations. She felt numb.

  Zeraphine, noticing Elaine’s despair, emerged in ephemeral form by her side. “Elaine,” she murmured, voice tinged with compassion. “I know your heart is heavy. We all carry this guilt. But we must keep moving… for a future chance to save others.”

  Elaine gave a slight nod, tears threatening again. She bit her lip, forcing them back. “I— I understand,” she whispered. “But it doesn’t dull the ache.”

  Under the colossal log, they huddled together to conserve warmth, mindful that the night remained unyieldingly cold and dark. The forest’s hush pressed in, heightening every small shuffle or labored breath. Joseph examined the battered rifle in his lap, expression grim. Even if they reached the clan city, he questioned whether they could rally enough might to quell such a monstrous force. With the Guardian gone, the Redwood domain seemed ready to fall.

  Xin-ta’s golden eyes roamed the surrounding gloom, ears twitching at the faintest rustle. “Stay alert,” she said quietly. “The dwellers often prowl in smaller hunting packs apart from their main host. If they sniff our blood, they might follow.”

  Joseph nodded, checking the rifle’s gem interface. “We’ll keep watch in shifts. A good half-night remains, after all.”

  At that, Elaine’s eyebrows rose. “We still have nearly 12 hours left of darkness, don’t we?” Her voice tremored, the weight of the prolonged night pressing on her psyche. Back on Earth, the dawn’s arrival had always marked the end of nightmares, a comforting constant. Here, the blackness felt endless, as if dawn might never come.

  Seraphion exhaled softly. “Yes. But once the sun emerges, the dwellers… vanish, so you said,” she said, glancing at Xin-ta. “Is that guaranteed? All of them?”

  The beast-woman closed her eyes, ears folding. “In my entire life, never has any Deep-dweller lingered once the sun is above the horizon. It is our only respite. If they remain in such numbers at night… with the Guardian gone…” She didn’t finish, letting the implication stand: each night, new horrors could roam free.

  Zeraphine carefully placed a comforting hand on Elaine’s back. “Rest a few minutes. We’ll keep vigil. Then we proceed. That’s all we can do.”

  Elaine gave a slight nod. She set her spear beside her, noticing her black, chitinous nails glinting faintly by starlight. She flexed her fingers, recalling how she had acquired them, forcibly shaping her own body to adapt to a savage environment. The unnaturalness of it struck her again, fueling the swirl of guilt, anger, and raw grief inside her.

  They paused for barely a quarter of an hour, the minimal respite enabling them to rewrap bandages, swallow meager rations, and close their eyes in brief attempts at mental recovery. The night overhead remained eerily star-spangled, a silent cosmos unbothered by the tragedy below. Then, a distant tremor rumbled beneath their feet. Elaine stiffened, heart lurching as she visualized the outpost’s final stand. The sound conjured horrifying images: perhaps the walls had given way to the monstrous horde, or a powerful explosion had rattled the earth.

  Xin-ta’s ear twitched. She stood abruptly, spear in hand. “That must be them… using some twisted magic to break the gates. If the outpost is gone, we can only pray some might have escaped,” she said, hugging herself. “We must keep going. The clan city is our only hope for a real defense.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  No one argued. With hearts heavy, they pulled themselves up, re-arming, re-shouldering small packs. The raw sorrow emanating from Elaine caused Joseph to look away, feeling he had no comforting words to offer. Seraphion draped a wing protectively around her charge, a wordless gesture that, if nothing else, offered a measure of solace in a world so starkly cruel.

  Xin-ta took point again. They wound along a hidden trail that skirted the Redwood’s denser interior. The giant trees soared overhead like columns of an ancient cathedral, forming an awe-inspiring labyrinth. Their canopies interlocked, starbeams only occasionally piercing through. Here and there, phosphorescent fungi dotted rotting logs, creating ghostly glimmers that illuminated spindly ferns and ropy vines. Twice, they halted at the faint sounds of growling or distant shrieks, each time waiting breathless until silence returned.

  During one such pause, as they crouched behind a fallen trunk, Elaine spotted a slender reptilian shape slithering up a tree trunk. She froze, thinking it might be another scaled jaguar or a dwelling demon. But it was smaller, more akin to a large lizard with vibrant patterns. To her shock, it displayed a pair of tiny vestigial wings on its back, fluttering weakly. A pang of wonder mixed with sorrow coursed through her—so many creatures to discover on this planet, yet overshadowed by the monstrous dwellers. She watched it vanish into the foliage, carrying a small rodent in its jaws. Even the simpler predator-prey drama felt overshadowed by the knowledge that entire outposts could be razed in a single night.

  Eventually, after hours of careful navigation, they ascended a slope where the redwoods thinned. The ground turned rocky, reminiscent of the Redwood’s border with the mountainous region. Xin-ta halted at a vantage. From here, they glimpsed an expanse of starlit forest canopy below, and far, far in the distance, a massive shape that must have been the clan city’s central Redwood, rumored to be thrice the height of any other. That was their objective.

  Sighing, the beast-woman sank to the ground on one knee, tail drooping. “It is perhaps a half-day’s journey by foot, even if we keep a brisk pace,” she murmured.

  Elaine’s heart sank. “Half-day? That’s half the night plus some of the next day… or more?”

  Xin-ta nodded wearily. “Though once dawn breaks, the dwellers vanish. That might allow us a quicker march in daylight. But if we linger too long, the next night… the city might already be under siege. We must hurry.”

  Joseph and Seraphion swapped glances. The implication was clear: pushing on in the dark was risky and exhausting, but waiting until dawn might risk the city’s downfall. Yet if they arrived too spent to fight or rally the clan, it could be equally disastrous.

  Elaine closed her eyes, running through the scenario. She spoke softly, “We keep going. We can rest in small increments. If we push ourselves, maybe we can arrive by dawn. Then we’ll have the day to prepare the city’s defenses.”

  For a moment, no one contested the idea, each measuring their remaining stamina. They recognized the precariousness, but it was a plan—a faint glimmer of hope in a terrifying world. Zeraphine offered a faint smile, her wings shimmering in the starlight. “Agreed,” she said. “I won’t let you face the monsters alone, Elaine.”

  Fate, however, seemed determined to shatter their illusions. As they readied to descend, the night air quivered with a low hum—a throb of malignant magic. All of them felt it: a subtle vibration across their skin, reminiscent of static electricity. Elaine’s stomach dropped. “That feels… vile,” she whispered.

  Their senses sharpened. Joseph shot a glance behind them, scanning the ridge. “We’re not alone,” he said under his breath, adjusting the battered rifle. “Get down.”

  Xin-ta swiveled, spear angled. “We must not be discovered—”

  Suddenly, beams of crackling flame lanced from the darkness, slicing through the sparse underbrush. One seared a trunk near Seraphion, sending shards of burning bark flying. The group scattered, flinging themselves behind boulders or thick roots. The acrid smell of scorched wood invaded Elaine’s nose.

  Emerging from the gloom advanced two slender figures—the Vanguard Casters. One brandished a staff fashioned from bone, flickering embers dancing along runic engravings. The other clutched a curved blade crackling with arcane energy. Flames twined around their gaunt frames, reflecting in eyes that gleamed with inhuman cunning. A trio of Nightmare Stalkers prowled at their flanks, each creature’s lips curled in a menacing grin.

  “These must be from the outpost siege,” Xin-ta gasped, adrenaline spiking. “They must have circled around, searching for survivors or stray defenders!”

  Joseph cursed. “Damn, they’re strategic. We can’t outrun them if they’re able to conjure flame from a distance.” He leveled his rifle, taking aim at the Casters. One fired off a scorching projectile that blasted a chunk out of their rocky cover. The impact jolted Elaine’s teeth, hot debris peppering her arms.

  Seraphion pressed herself close to Elaine, wings unfurling. “I can fight them,” she growled, voice taut with apprehension, “but I cannot protect you from the Stalkers at the same time.” She stepped forward, arcs of blackish-red energy coalescing around her hands.

  Elaine trembled. The Casters let loose another barrage of flaming bolts, each one screaming with lethal intensity. The group scrambled for better cover, hearts hammering in tandem. The three Stalkers advanced from the flanks, hissing and cackling, apparently eager for fresh kills. The watchers could see them plainly now: sickly-lithe frames, scaled flanks, elongated claws that dripped with an oily substance. They reeked of malevolence.

  The next moments devolved into chaos. Joseph fired a volley, dispatching one Stalker that lunged too soon. With a shriek, it crumpled, black blood staining the forest floor. Another hissed and launched itself at Xin-ta. She met it mid-charge, spear thrusting into its midsection. A hideous screech tore through the night. The beast-woman braced her feet, ripping her weapon free.

  “Elaine, watch out!” came Joseph’s shout. One of the Casters had locked onto her, staff lifted high. The runes scribed along the bone flared with unholy brilliance, swirling flames converging at the tip, forming a lethal orb.

  Elaine’s stomach twisted. Time seemed to slow as her mind screamed for a reaction. She had fought before—had forced her own body to adapt. But facing a monstrous caster from the Deep was an altogether more horrifying prospect. She ducked, raising her battered spear in a feeble defense. She glimpsed her black nails, remembered the unstoppable transformation she had forced on her body, and wondered if it might somehow aid her once more.

  But before the flames could fully manifest, Seraphion soared into the line of fire. Her own swirling energies condensed around her palms. With a single savage cry, she unleashed a wave of blackish flame that collided with the orb in a thunderous explosion. Sparks and embers rained down, scorching the ground. Elaine shielded her face from the cascade of fiery debris.

  “Stay behind me!” Seraphion hissed, her eyes burning with a fierce glow. She advanced on the nearest caster, arcs of destructive magic coursing around her body. The caster’s staff flickered as it tried to conjure another volley, but Seraphion was swifter, smashing aside the bone staff with a lash of crackling wrath. The caster hissed and slashed with gnarled claws, but the archangel pivoted, summoning a short, controlled lance of flame that seared the creature’s flesh. It reeled back, shrieking, half its face charred.

  “Do not kill yourself,” Zeraphine’s voice echoed in Seraphion’s thoughts, concern laced in every syllable. “We may face worse foes ahead.” The archangel grit her teeth, striving to moderate her power. She was certain she could obliterate these enemies if she tapped into the full scope of her “divine right,” but that risked draining her to collapse—leaving Elaine vulnerable should more horrors emerge.

  Meanwhile, the second caster circled wide, brandishing its curved blade. With a guttural snarl, it thrust the blade forward, releasing a spear of arcane fire. Joseph, pivoting, unleashed the last of his rifle’s charges in a panicked spray. One shot clipped the caster’s shoulder, making it flinch and disrupting its aim. The spear of flame soared overhead, setting a distant cluster of ferns aflame. The caster hissed in rage, scanning for a fresh opening. Then, it tore a short, twisting dagger from its belt. With fluid steps, it darted behind Elaine.

  Heart pounding, Elaine felt the heat of the caster’s presence at her back. She spun, raising her spear. In that brief second, the tip of the dagger glowed a vile red, exuding menacing runes that seemed to hunger for her blood. She had no illusions: her forced modifications gave her a measure of resilience, but she was still just an amateur. This foe was trained in lethal magic. She scolded herself for letting it slip behind her.

  “Zee… help me,” Elaine whispered, desperate. Another swirl of intangible energy pulsed within her chest, reminiscent of how she had altered her body. She recalled how she had shaped her nails, her stomach, her general biology. Could she replicate that shift mid-battle, quickly enough to block the caster’s blade?

  Steeling herself, she inhaled, focusing on forging denser plating along her forearm. It was a mad gambit. She hadn’t tried so advanced a metamorphosis in real-time. Yet terror overcame caution, and she reached deep within, picturing pangolin-like scales or chitin forming across her forearm. Pain spiked as the cells contorted. She let out a choked cry, but didn’t falter.

  The caster lunged, dagger angled at her chest. Elaine raised her left forearm in a desperate block. A sickening jolt wracked her frame as the blade bit into the newly formed plating. She felt it partway pierce before it snapped on bone, halted by the denser structure. The agony seared her mind, but she gripped the spear in her right hand, channeling her fear. With a ragged scream, she drove the spear’s tip into the caster’s midsection. It snarled, blackish fluid seeping from the wound. In a fury, it tore free, stumbling back.

  “You can do it,” Zeraphine whispered inside her, imparting a subtle rush of strength. “Finish it, Elaine… now!” The words spurred her on, adrenaline sizzling through her veins. She advanced, ignoring the throbbing in her arm.

  But the caster wasn’t done. With a twisted snarl, it released a wave of black flame that crashed into Elaine’s chest, sending her sprawling. She landed hard, the spear clattering aside. Vision flickering, she gritted her teeth. The beast advanced, swirling new energies in the stump of its ruined dagger. The ground beneath Elaine darkened with her blood. Her mutated arm now felt numb, pinned beneath her weight.

  In that instant, a streak of bestial fury cut across. Xin-ta had seen Elaine go down. The beast-woman roared, driving her spear at an angle into the caster’s flank. It howled, pivoting to face this new threat. Xin-ta kicked it back, following with another savage thrust. The caster tried conjuring flame, but she pressed in close, slashing its arms, forcing it to parry physically. With a final roar, Xin-ta jammed her spear into the caster’s throat, cutting off its hideous shriek. It collapsed, twitching, eyes dimming.

  Breathing heavily, she hurried to Elaine. “Are you alive?” she asked in a trembling voice. Elaine managed a weak nod, tears blurring her vision. The plating on her arm retracted involuntarily, leaving behind raw, bleeding flesh. Her entire body shook from shock.

  Meanwhile, Seraphion had all but cornered the first caster, who was pinned against a half-crushed trunk, feebly attempting to conjure a last-ditch flame. The archangel clenched her fists, black energy coruscating around her. “No more illusions,” she hissed, unleashing a short burst of scorching wrath. The caster convulsed, consumed by the black flames that devoured flesh and bone. It died with a spine-chilling screech that echoed among the trees.

  Joseph, chest heaving, looked around. “The Stalkers?” he gasped, scanning for the three that had accompanied the Casters. He located two lifeless forms on the ground, riddled with bullet holes or spear wounds. The final one, evidently injured, dragged itself into the undergrowth, leaving a dark trail. The group stood in a clearing of carnage: scorched bark, broken undergrowth, and acrid smoke from magical flames.

  They had triumphed, but at a dire cost. Elaine’s wound seeped blood, her skin pale. Joseph’s rifle was spent, and the barrel glowed faintly from the overheated gem. Xin-ta’s arms trembled, the aftermath of her spear thrust leaving her breathless. Even Seraphion’s shoulders slumped, her wings drooping as she panted quietly, reining in the destructive power swirling in her chest.

  The threat neutralized, they huddled to address Elaine’s wound. Xin-ta grimaced. “You… forced your flesh to adopt a scale plating? Are you insane?” she scolded, rummaging in her diminishing med kit. She carefully cleaned Elaine’s torn arm, applying a pungent salve that stung fiercely, making Elaine wince. “Foolish E’lain. That kind of metamorphosis is… beyond unnatural,” she chastised, though her tone carried more worry than anger.

  Elaine managed a faint, pained grin. “And you’re the one who pinned me to the ground earlier. We all have regrets,” she murmured. She hissed as Xin-ta wrapped the wound with cloth. “But thanks… for saving me.”

  Xin-ta averted her eyes. She said nothing more, finishing the bandage. The battered group recognized they couldn’t linger. If these Casters had followed them from the outpost, more might be on their trail.

  Seraphion hoisted Elaine to her feet with gentle care. “We must keep going. No telling what else hunts tonight,” she said. Her wings rustled, black flame flickering in her eyes for an instant before snuffing out.

  Joseph exhaled, reholstering his worthless rifle. “Right. The sooner we reach your clan, Xin-ta, the better. We can’t endure another fight like this.”

  A hush fell as they resumed their trek, forging deeper into Redwood territory under the unfeeling starlight. Weariness pressed down on their limbs like chains. Their morale teetered on the edge of despair, haunted by the knowledge that Outpost Wyvern might have already fallen, that horrifying new beasts roamed the gloom, and that the dwellers’ might was growing unchecked.

  Yet, they trudged on, pulled by a fragile conviction. If they could warn the clan city, perhaps they could muster enough defenders to protect at least some measure of life from the unstoppable horrors that claimed these nights. Twelve hours remained until sunrise. It felt like an eternity.

  As they skirted a low ridge, the forest opened slightly to reveal a grand vista of the Redwood canopy stretching out beneath the star-flecked sky. Far on the horizon, a flicker of red glowed ominously, flames licking at the skyline. Though distant, Elaine recognized the location. Her heart clenched. Outpost Wyvern was ablaze.

  A ghostly hush descended among them as they paused to watch the faint red aura dance in the night. No one spoke for several beats. Even the forest’s typical nocturnal calls were absent, as if nature itself mourned the stronghold’s demise.

  Xin-ta bowed her head, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. Elaine placed a tentative hand on her back, offering unspoken sympathy. Joseph stared at the inferno with grim resignation, and Seraphion turned aside, jaw tight with guilt.

  “We… can’t help them,” Xin-ta managed in a hoarse whisper. “They fight alone. Perhaps a few might flee. Some might survive.” She let out a tremulous exhale. “We must save who we can. The clan city is all that remains.”

  Elaine nodded, voice catching in her throat. “Yes. Let’s go.”

  With one last sorrowful glance at the blazing outpost, they turned away, stepping into the darkness of the Redwood domain. Shadows absorbed them, silent witnesses to the torment roiling in their hearts.

  Time slithered onward, the night’s inexorable grip unrelenting. At intervals, they allowed themselves only tiny breaks for sips of water or to recheck bandages. Each attempt to rest was cut short by the looming dread that some unstoppable fiend might catch them off-guard. Joseph stoically kept watch, rifle or sidearm at the ready. Elaine, leaning on Seraphion for support, occasionally drifted into a half-conscious state, eyes fluttering from pain and fatigue. Xin-ta tried to pinpoint invisible landmarks among the gargantuan trees, cursing under her breath when she spotted that certain giant trunks had collapsed or changed over time, altering the routes she’d memorized.

  Eventually, the forest floor began a gradual descent into a region where watery hollows and creeping vines abounded. The ground grew slick, forcing them to slow. With each step, Elaine’s battered body threatened to collapse. Her legs quivered, muscles on the verge of giving out. The archangels silently argued within her soul, mulling whether to forcibly induce healing transformations again, but each metamorphosis robbed her of precious nutrients and inflicted near-crippling pain.

  Another hour passed in uneasy quiet. The cluster of trees parted briefly, revealing a patch of starry sky. Through that gap, they saw a faint pinkish hue nearing the horizon. It was subtle, but enough for Seraphion’s keen eyes to notice. “Dawn draws near,” she said softly.

  Xin-ta perked up. “Father Sun? How many hours…?”

  Joseph rubbed his temple, squinting. “Maybe… four or five hours to full sunrise? Hard to say, not my planet,” he admitted. “But we’re close to that halfway mark. The dwellers might begin withdrawing soon. If we can avoid them until then…”

  A shaky exhalation from Elaine. “Then we can push forward more easily?”

  Seraphion mustered a faint nod of encouragement. “Yes,” she said. “Though I worry about what monstrous creatures lurk here. The greater threat might not vanish with the lesser dwellers.”

  They pressed on. Finally, they found a small, elevated clearing relatively free of underbrush, strewn with large boulders that formed a partial shelter. Exhausted beyond measure, they decided to rest for an hour or two. Possibly, with the dwellers retreating, it was safe enough for a short respite. They would need their strength for the final push once dawn arrived.

  Joseph helped Elaine ease down onto a flat rock, while Xin-ta fashioned a rudimentary perimeter trap using vines and sharpened stakes—enough to give them a warning if anything prowled near. Seraphion knelt by Elaine, checking her pulse and the feverish heat radiating from her wounds. The archangel’s face showed concern. Elaine’s forced transformations and the repeated injuries threatened to overwhelm her body’s ability to heal. They were almost out of salves, and the bandages were soaked in places.

  “Elaine,” Seraphion said gently, brushing a damp lock of hair from the human’s face. “We are close to morning. A few more hours, then you can walk in the sunlight without fear of them. You must endure.”

  Elaine’s lips twitched in a half-smile, tears clinging to her lashes. “I’ll try,” she whispered, letting her eyes close. The archangel’s presence felt oddly comforting, a flicker of warmth in the endless night. For a moment, she thought about how, on Earth, she might have watched the sunrise with a cup of tea in her dorm. She almost laughed at the absurdity, tears slipping down her cheeks. Here she was, on a savage planet, guided by an archangel and a beast-woman, fleeing nightmares incarnate. She’d traded her dream of protecting animals for the grim necessity of slaughtering monstrous demons.

  Joseph stood guard near a boulder, scanning the perimeter. The weight of each breath felt heavier in the hush. They had bonded through mortal danger, forging an uneasy alliance. Yet, they each nursed private sorrows over those they couldn’t save. The flicker of flame from the outpost’s ruin haunted them like a lingering nightmare at the edges of consciousness.

  Xin-ta, returning from placing the trap, glanced at Elaine. “E’lain… I swear, if I can help you find your place in our clan city, I will.” She paused, swallowing. “You have risked your life many times already for me, for us. I can’t ignore that.”

  Elaine opened her eyes, gazing at her. Despite her exhaustion, she managed a nod. “Thank you, Xin-ta,” she murmured, heartfelt. “I only hope we can truly reach them in time to make a difference.”

  Xin-ta’s tail flicked in a gesture of resolve. “We must. Our city will not fall so easily, but the dwellers have grown cunning. If the city is forewarned, if we fortify properly, we can stand a fighting chance. Maybe we can even slay that monstrous… draconid that appeared.”

  At the mention of the colossal beast that seemed to overshadow normal dwellers, a chill rippled through the group. Joseph forced a grim smile. “We’ll see. For now, we rest. Then, we press on.”

  They divided into watches. First, Joseph and Xin-ta took turns patrolling the perimeter, though each circuit left them wincing at their wounds. Seraphion hovered near Elaine, instructing her to sleep, all the while scanning the deep shadows for any lurking abomination. Within Elaine’s soul, a subdued dialogue flickered between the archangels and the swirl of old Earth souls. She felt them as though in a half-dream, uncertain whether to fear or embrace their presence.

  Time crawled, measured by the slow arc of the smaller moon overhead. The forest felt pregnant with tension, as if countless eyes watched from behind the ferns and bracken. Occasionally, a distant cackle or bestial shriek would force them to hold their breath. Each time, it receded, leaving them anxious and hypervigilant.

  At some point, Joseph gently touched Seraphion’s wing, murmuring, “I can watch them for a while. If you need to… replenish, or whatever you do.”

  The archangel studied him, gleaning the sincerity in his voice. She felt her own spiritual reserves dangerously low; unleashing another wave of purifying wrath would likely incapacitate her. Yet, a small, grateful nod was all she gave. “You have your rest, too, soldier. We’ll share the burden.”

  And so they stood in silence, listening to the forest’s subdued symphony. The knowledge that dawn would eventually banish the dwellers provided a faint, flickering sense of hope—like the promise of rescue after a shipwreck. Elaine’s eyelids fluttered open and closed, drifting in a borderline dream state. She glimpsed vague impressions of old Earth memories and ephemeral silhouettes of the countless souls bound up in Seraphion and Zeraphine. It hurt her heart, but at the same time, she found a measure of solace in the notion that she wasn’t as alone in the universe as she once feared.

  Eventually, Joseph felt an abrupt shift in the air. A subtle brightening tinted the distant horizon, merging night’s deep indigo with faint pink. The first suggestion of dawn. The forest around them seemed to exhale, as though the Redwood domain recognized the approach of the sun. The tension in the group eased fractionally, though none dared to celebrate prematurely. Some dwellers might linger to slaughter stragglers.

  Xin-ta, rousing from a short doze, sniffed the air. “We should move now,” she said, scanning Elaine’s face and gently helping her to stand. “The clan city is still many leagues away, but traveling by daylight is safer. If we push, we can cover half the distance before nightfall. Maybe more, if we find good trails.”

  Elaine moaned softly, rubbing her stiff neck. Her entire body felt battered, but dawn’s approach gave her the faintest spark of renewed will. “Yes… let’s.”

  Seraphion hovered protectively near, wings curving around Elaine’s shoulders in a silent vow. “I will not let them harm you again,” she said, voice hushed. Joseph just nodded, checking his sidearm. The battered rifle was a lost cause; he let it drop, no regrets.

  Zeraphine briefly manifested by Elaine’s side. Her luminous wings glowed softly with an almost motherly warmth. “We’ll keep watch for you, E’lain. Don’t be afraid to rely on us.” Then, with a small swirl of energy, she faded back, preserving her limited reservoir of power.

  Together, they emerged from beneath the shelter, squinting against the faint dawn’s light that crept through the Redwood canopy. The forest was no less imposing, but at least they could see more than vague outlines. A few nocturnal insects buzzed around luminescent mushrooms, their hum fading as daylight beckoned.

  Elaine inhaled, a peculiar relief coursing through her, tinted with guilt. They had left countless innocents to an uncertain fate at Outpost Wyvern. But she was alive—they were alive. And the fight was far from over. With each painful step, she carried the weight of that knowledge, hoping that at the clan city, they might find the means to stem the tide of monstrous dwellers from the Deep… if it wasn’t already too late.

  In the dim hush of dawn, they press on, carrying fresh wounds both physical and spiritual. Seraphion remains watchful, determined not to repeat the mistakes of the outpost’s demise. Elaine struggles to balance her zoological ethics against the nightmare that compels extermination. Xin-ta steers them toward the clan city, heart heavy with dread for her people. And Joseph clings to pragmatic soldier instincts, bridging uneasy alliances in this savage realm. Though Lost Hope clings to their hearts, they must forge ahead through the Redwood domain, praying the next twenty-four hour day can buy them time to regroup, warn, and prepare for the next onslaught of night.