Dawnstead – A Year Ago
Trinity Blade had always walked the fine line between life and death. They had faced countless dangers, teetered on the edge of disaster, and yet—they had never lost. Not once.
That was why they took the merchant escort mission without hesitation.
Escort jobs were routine. Predictable. A merchant pays for protection, adventurers keep them safe, and the job ends with a handshake and a sack of coins. Simple work—tedious, even—but easy money. The real threats came from dungeon expeditions, monster subjugations, and high-risk bounties.
But this time was different.
The morning sun rose over Dawnstead, painting the sky in hues of amber and violet as the city slowly stirred to life. It was just another day for most.
But for Trinity Blade, it marked the beginning of their next job.
"An escort mission? Seriously?" Rowen groaned, stretching his arms behind his head as he walked alongside his companions toward the guild hall. "This is the kind of work they give to rookies."
"Easy money, though." Darin flicked his wrist, conjuring a small flame that danced between his fingers before snuffing it out. "No bandit or monster is stupid enough to attack a caravan with us guarding it."
Lena adjusted her grip on her staff, giving the two of them an exasperated look. "Don't jinx it."
Garron, ever the stoic leader, simply chuckled. "Work is work."
When they arrived at the guild, the client—a short, well-dressed merchant named Oswin Farrow—was already waiting for them. His round face broke into a relieved smile when he saw the four adventurers approach.
"Ah! You must be Trinity Blade!" Oswin clapped his hands together. "A pleasure, a pleasure indeed! I've heard great things about your party."
"We get that a lot." Rowen smirked.
Oswin beamed. "I run a trade route between Dawnstead and Eldermere, and I need a strong escort for this trip. Bandit activity has been on the rise, and my last group of guards… Well, let's just say they weren't as capable as I'd hoped."
The four exchanged glances.
"Any confirmed sightings?" Garron asked.
Oswin hesitated. "Not exactly. Just rumors—caravans going missing, wagons turning up abandoned, that sort of thing."
Darin sighed. "So we're walking into a mystery. Great."
"Nothing we can't handle." Garron nodded. "We'll take the job."
Oswin's face lit up. "Fantastic! We depart at sunrise."
The caravan set off at dawn, five wagons carrying a fortune's worth of rare goods—silks, alchemical ingredients, enchanted trinkets. The merchants were nervous but hopeful, chatting quietly among themselves as they traveled.
Trinity Blade took point.
Garron led from the front, towering over the group with his tower shield resting on his back like an unbreakable wall. His sharp eyes scanned the road ahead, always watching, always ready.
Darin walked alongside the wagons, idly flicking embers from his fingertips, the small sparks disappearing into the morning air. He whistled a tune as he kept an eye on their surroundings.
Lena stayed near the center, her staff in hand, maintaining a faint magical barrier that shimmered in the morning light. She chatted occasionally with the merchants, offering reassurance where she could.
Rowen trailed at the rear, relaxed but ever watchful. His sword rested against his shoulder, and his gaze flickered toward the treelines, ever alert for movement.
The first day passed without incident.
The road was clear, the sky was bright, and by nightfall, they made camp near a small stream.
As the fire crackled, Oswin brought out a bottle of aged wine, offering drinks to the party.
"A little celebration for an uneventful day?" he chuckled.
Garron accepted a small cup, taking a measured sip. Rowen didn't hesitate, downing his in one go. "Now this is how all jobs should be."
Darin raised his cup with a smirk. "To easy money."
Lena only rolled her eyes. "It's only the first day."
That night, the sky remained clear, the stars twinkling above like silent watchers.
No one suspected what was coming.
By midday on the second day, they reached Blackwood Pass.
The change was immediate.
The rolling fields and bright blue sky faded behind them, swallowed by the shadowy embrace of twisted, gnarled trees. The thick canopy overhead devoured most of the sunlight, casting everything in an eerie half-light. A cold, damp breeze carried the scent of wet earth, moss, and something else—something faintly metallic.
The merchants fell silent.
No more casual chatter. No more idle laughter. Instead, nervous glances flitted toward the darkened treelines as the caravan pushed forward at a slower pace.
Lena tightened her grip on her staff, her blue eyes scanning the surroundings. "Something feels off."
Rowen, who had been walking near the rear, suddenly stopped mid-step. His expression darkened. "Yeah…" He turned his gaze toward the towering trees, the thick underbrush, the unmoving branches. "Where are the birds?"
Silence.
No birds. No rustling leaves. No insects.
Just emptiness.
A hollow, unnatural quiet that made the hairs on the back of their necks rise.
Garron, at the front of the formation, scowled. He raised a hand, fist clenched—a silent signal.
Halt.
The wagons came to a stop. The creaking of wooden wheels and the soft snorts of horses were the only sounds in the oppressive stillness.
Garron turned his head slightly, his voice low but firm. "Everyone, stay alert."
The only sounds were the soft creaks of wagon wheels settling and the restless shifting of the horses. Oswin swallowed hard. "What is it?"
Garron scanned the treeline. His instincts screamed at him. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his broadsword. "Something's watching us."
Darin exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. He lifted his hand, a tiny flame flickering to life at his fingertips. "This isn't normal."
The tension thickened like fog.
The shadows between the trees seemed to stretch, shifting ever so slightly. Shapes flickered just beyond the edge of their vision—phantom movements, gone before the mind could fully register them.
The wind died.
Then—A sound.
Low. Guttural.
A bestial howl split the silence.
It wasn't a wolf. It wasn't anything natural. It was deep, ragged, unnatural—like something that shouldn't exist.
The horses reared and whinnied in panic, hooves striking against the ground as the merchants struggled to calm them. One of them, a young woman with shaking hands, dropped a crate of supplies, the sharp crack of wood splintering in the still air.
Then—They emerged.
From the depths of the twisted forest, they came.
Not wolves. Not bandits. Not goblins.
Something worse.
Wraithfangs.
They stalked from the trees—large, powerful creatures with thick, sinewy bodies, armored hides, and piercing, intelligent eyes. Their elongated limbs were built for brutal speed, their claws sharp enough to tear through steel.
There were at least a dozen.
Darin's breath hitched. "Shit."
Then—they attacked.
Like a black tide, the monsters rushed them.
Garron barely had time to raise his shield before—
CRASH!
A massive beast lunged, slamming into him with bone-crushing force. Garron skidded back, boots digging into the dirt as he gritted his teeth against the impact.
With a roar, he swung his broadsword. Steel met flesh. The monster staggered, but only for a moment.
Rowen was already moving. Like the wind.
His sword flashed—once, twice, three times—cutting through the monsters with lethal precision.
But they kept coming.
One lunged—Rowen barely twisted in time, the creature's claws tearing through the air just inches from his chest.
Darin thrust his hands forward—a roaring wave of fire erupted from his palms, engulfing the battlefield.
Flames consumed several monsters, sending them howling in agony. But others leapt through the fire, their thick hides resisting the worst of the flames.
"Lena!" Garron bellowed.
Lena was already moving.
Her hands glowed as she slammed her staff against the ground. Ice erupted beneath the monsters' feet, freezing several in place.
One beast broke free—lunging straight for her.
Lena gasped, instinctively raising her staff.
Rowen appeared in a blur, his sword slicing clean through the creature's throat. Blood sprayed across the ground.
But there was no time to rest.
Garron took the front line, his tower shield raised high. "Protect the wagons!"
The monsters circled, their movements coordinated. They weren't mindless beasts. They were hunting as a pack.
The battle had been brutal.
The bodies of slain Wraithfangs littered the ground, some still twitching, their black blood soaking into the dirt. The caravan wagons stood battered but intact, protected by the desperate efforts of Trinity Blade.
But it wasn't over. Because it had arrived.
A deep, guttural snarl rumbled through the battlefield.
A shadow moved beyond the treeline, slow and deliberate. Then, it stepped into the fading light.
The Wraithfang Alpha.
It was massive—easily twice the size of the others, its black fur jagged like serrated blades, its hulking frame rippling with raw muscle. The glow of its crimson eyes pierced the gloom, cold and calculating.
This was no mindless beast. This was a predator. A warlord among monsters.
It exhaled, mist curling from its maw as it bared a mouth full of jagged fangs. Then, it moved.
Not a charge. Not a reckless lunge.
A slow, prowling stride.
Unhurried. Unchallenged. Unafraid.
The battlefield fell silent. Even the remaining Wraithfangs slinked back into the shadows, recognizing the presence of their king.
Lena's breath hitched. "That thing… it's different."
Garron's grip on his broadsword tightened. His heartbeat hammered against his ribs, instincts screaming—this thing wasn't just bigger. It was smarter. Deadlier.
Rowen exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "That's the leader."
Darin scowled, fire flickering between his fingertips. "Then we kill it."
The Alpha's lips curled back, revealing razor-sharp teeth.
It smiled.
And then—it attacked.
Garron moved first.
He charged head-on, shield raised high, aiming to take the brunt of the Alpha's force. His boots thundered against the earth as he closed the distance, preparing to slam his shield into the beast's torso.
But the Alpha was fast. Too fast.
A flicker of movement—then a blur.
It sidestepped at the last possible moment, its enormous claws flashing out.
CRASH!
The impact sent Garron flying.
His tower shield crumpled inward, the metal bending under the sheer force of the blow. He slammed into the ground like a fallen meteor, his breath leaving him in a painful gasp.
Darin retaliated.
He thrust his hands forward, flames roaring to life as twin pillars of fire surged toward the Alpha. The inferno illuminated the battlefield, casting monstrous shadows against the trees.
The Alpha leaped straight through it. Unscathed.
Darin's eyes widened. "That's—"
It was already in front of him.
The Alpha swiped, claws aiming for his throat.
Ice erupted from the ground.
Lena reacted instantly, a wall of jagged frost surging between them. The Alpha twisted mid-air, its claws shredding through the ice like paper, but the delay gave Darin a fraction of a second to hurl himself backward.
His escape was messy. He hit the ground hard, rolling through the dirt.
Rowen was already moving.
He blurred forward, his sword singing through the air, wind magic wrapping around the blade as he struck.
Steel met flesh.
The blade bit deep into the Alpha's shoulder.
The Alpha howled.
For the first time, it had been wounded.
Rowen's lips curled into a grin—until he saw the look in its eyes.
It wasn't in pain. It wasn't enraged. It was amused.
The Alpha's claw snapped forward.
Rowen barely managed to duck, the air hissing as the massive talons tore through empty space where his head had been. He twisted away, blade flashing.
But the Alpha's other claw was already coming.
It was a trap. A feint.
Rowen's eyes widened—too late.
The impact was like a sledgehammer.
The force ripped him off his feet, his body twisting midair before he slammed into the dirt, coughing blood.
The Alpha landed lightly, effortlessly, rolling its wounded shoulder.
Then, it turned toward them—slow, methodical, savoring the hunt.
It was toying with them.
Garron groaned, forcing himself up, his shield shattered, his broadsword still in his grip.
Lena was panting, ice forming at her fingertips, preparing another spell.
Darin's flames burned brighter, wilder, fueled by fury.
Rowen wiped the blood from his lip, staggering to his feet, his blade trembling in his grip.
The Alpha tilted its head. Then, it grinned again.
The Alpha towered above them, its hulking frame casting an ominous shadow beneath the dying light.
Blood dripped from its claws.
Its piercing red eyes scanned its prey—calculating, analyzing.
Then, it found a weakness.
It locked onto Lena.
The healer.
The one keeping them on their feet. The one they couldn't afford to lose.
The air grew heavy.
The Alpha moved.
Not a charge. Not a lunge. It vanished.
One second, it was standing still. The next—it was right in front of her.
Lena's heart stopped.
A black blur. A flash of claws.
Steel slammed into the attack.
Garron threw himself between them, his tower shield raised.
The impact was deafening.
The very ground beneath him split apart, deep cracks forming beneath his feet.
A thunderous shockwave tore through the battlefield.
His legs buckled. His arms trembled. Bones screamed in protest.
But he didn't break. He couldn't.
"LENA—RUN!" he roared, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Lena stumbled back, eyes wide with terror, but her hands kept moving.
She whispered an incantation, frost gathering at her fingertips.
But the Alpha saw it.
It kicked off the ground, twisting midair with inhuman precision—and hurled Garron aside like a ragdoll.
CRACK!
His body slammed into a wagon. Wood exploded. Splinters rained down like daggers.
Garron groaned, blood dripping down his forehead.
"GARRON!" Lena's voice broke.
She barely had time to react. The Alpha was on her again.
A flash of silver. A gust of wind.
Rowen struck.
His blade sang.
A clean, deadly arc carved across the Alpha's ribs—Dark blood sprayed. The beast howled.
It twisted, claws already lashing out.
Rowen vanished.
His boots barely touched the ground before he darted back into position, blade at the ready.
"You're not touching her," he growled.
The Alpha snarled. This time—it was angry.
And an angry predator was the most dangerous kind.
Darin saw the opening.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he raised both hands, magic surging at his fingertips.
This wasn't just another attack. This was everything he had.
"Burn."
A firestorm erupted.
Flames whipped through the air, spiraling into a massive, coiling serpent—a living inferno fueled by raw determination.
The burning maw of the fire serpent lunged at the Alpha, its roar blending with the crackling blaze.
The heat was unbearable. Scorching. Blinding. Even the air sizzled.
The Alpha turned. Its glowing red eyes narrowed.
Then—It moved. Not back. Not away.
Straight through it.
Darin's breath hitched. The flames should have devoured it. But the beast emerged unscathed—unstoppable.
And then—It grinned.
A blur of black fur and crimson eyes.
A single swipe.
Darin barely had time to react before a clawed hand slammed into his chest.
The impact stole the air from his lungs.
Pain. Raw. Searing.
He felt his body lift off the ground.
CRASH.
He slammed into the dirt, rolling violently.
Flames flickered out of control, scorching the earth as he tumbled. His vision spun. His ribs ached. The world blurred in and out of focus.
The Alpha loomed over him.
Red eyes. Black claws. Death itself.
It raised its arm—The killing blow.
BOOM.
A crack of thunder.
The ground froze beneath the Alpha's feet.
Lena stood, hands outstretched, her breath ragged.
The very air shimmered with frost, ice exploding upward, trapping the beast mid-strike.
But she was panting now. That was her last spell. She had nothing left.
"Rowen!"
She didn't need to say it twice. Rowen was already moving.
A gust of wind. A flash of silver.
His sword sang as he closed the distance, a perfect, lethal arc aimed straight for the Alpha's throat.
It was the perfect strike.
But—The Alpha moved faster. Its head snapped sideways.
The blade missed the throat by a fraction of a second. Instead—It tore through its left eye.
The world froze.
Then—the scream.
A sound so sharp, so piercing, that it sent shockwaves through the battlefield.
Blood—dark and thick—poured from the ruined eye socket.
The Alpha stumbled back, howling in agony.
And for the first time… It looked afraid.
End of Chapter 39