The biting cold of the northern mountains clung to Kaelen's skin as he trudged through the rocky terrain, the weight of his armor pressing against him. The wind howled, carrying with it the scent of snow and impending danger. The group had arrived at the narrow pass just as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, and now, under the veil of night, the air felt thick with an eerie silence. Even the wind, fierce and unforgiving, seemed to have stilled, as if the land itself was holding its breath.
Elara had already set up a small ritual circle, the edges of which were marked by stones carved with ancient symbols. She had assured Kaelen that this would be enough to amplify the protective magic, but Kaelen wasn't so sure. The mountains, with their looming presence and treacherous paths, felt like an unwelcoming ally, one that could turn against them at any moment.
Loren, ever the optimist, stood by the fire, sharpening his blade with a relaxed, rhythmic motion. "You know, if we don't get ambushed by some monstrous creature or whatever, this is actually kind of peaceful."
Kaelen shot Loren a sidelong glance. "Not exactly the time to be enjoying the view."
"Oh, I'm not enjoying the view," Loren replied with a grin. "I'm preparing. You know, in case we need to slice up some demons, or whatever the hell is coming our way."
Kaelen sighed but couldn't suppress a faint smile. Loren's humor was, as always, a necessary balm to his growing tension. They had faced so many dangers together, and it seemed that, no matter how grim the situation, Loren always found a way to crack a joke or lighten the mood.
Still, the unease gnawed at him.
"I don't like this," Kaelen muttered, his eyes scanning the dark expanse of the pass. "It feels too quiet."
Elara, who had been focusing on her ritual, looked up. "You're not wrong," she said, her voice tinged with concern. "The mountains are never this still. Something's wrong."
Kaelen didn't need to hear it from her to know that danger was near. Every instinct in his body was telling him that the enemy was closing in, but the question was how and when.
The wind picked up once more, this time bringing with it the unmistakable sound of distant marching. Low at first, then louder, the rhythmic pounding of boots against the rocky ground reverberated in the air. Kaelen's heart rate quickened.
"They're here," he said, his voice low but sharp.
Loren immediately snapped to attention, his sword drawn, ready for whatever would come. Elara, too, stepped forward, her hands crackling with energy as she prepared herself for the coming battle. Kaelen's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. The time for hesitation was over.
The sound of marching grew louder, and soon, the first figures appeared out of the darkness. They moved like shadows, their forms cloaked in dark robes that seemed to absorb the light. The sight of them made Kaelen's stomach drop. These weren't ordinary soldiers—they were twisted, malformed, their faces obscured by masks of blackened metal and bone. Their eyes glowed faintly, like embers from a dying fire.
"Elara, what are these?" Kaelen asked, his voice tight with dread.
"Elites," she answered, her gaze hardening. "Elite soldiers of the villain's army. They're enhanced with dark magic, stronger than normal warriors. We'll need to be careful."
"Careful's never been my style," Loren said, cracking his knuckles with a grin. "But I'm sure we can make it work."
Kaelen shot him a warning look, but Loren was already stepping forward, eager for the fight. Kaelen glanced at Elara, who gave him a nod. They had to hold the pass at all costs. The enemy army wasn't far behind these elites, and if they broke through, it would be a disaster.
The first of the elite soldiers raised a blackened sword, its jagged edge gleaming in the dim light. Kaelen wasted no time. He charged forward, his own sword flashing through the air in a wide arc. The soldier blocked with surprising speed, their sword crackling with dark energy, but Kaelen's strike forced them back.
Loren wasn't far behind, launching himself into the fray with a roar, his greatsword cutting through the air. He met another elite soldier head-on, their weapons clashing with an explosion of sparks. Elara remained a few steps back, her hands glowing with magic, summoning arcane energy to bolster their defenses. A blast of force erupted from her hands, knocking back a group of soldiers who had tried to flank them.
The elite soldiers fought with a fierce, unnatural precision, their movements fluid and deadly. They were strong—too strong for normal men—and it was clear that the dark magic that had been infused into their bodies made them even more dangerous.
Kaelen blocked another strike, his sword ringing as it met the enemy's blade. He gritted his teeth, pushing against the overwhelming strength of his opponent. He couldn't let up. The future of the village, and possibly the entire northern region, depended on him holding this pass.
Loren swung his sword in a wide arc, catching an elite soldier off guard and sending them crashing to the ground. He let out a triumphant laugh. "Now, that's more like it!"
But before Kaelen could even react, another soldier appeared from the shadows, their speed unnervingly fast. The soldier's blade struck out, grazing Kaelen's side. He hissed in pain but pushed through it, his mind focused on the task at hand. He couldn't afford to let his guard down—not for a second.
Elara, seeing the shift in the tide, raised her hand and muttered an incantation. The air around them shimmered as a protective barrier formed, shimmering like a shield of light. The elites pressed against it, but it held, buying them precious moments.
Kaelen's eyes locked onto the leader of the elite soldiers, who stood slightly behind the others, watching the battle unfold with cold, calculating eyes. The leader's mask was different—more ornate, adorned with dark runes that pulsed with malevolent energy. Kaelen knew this one was more than just an elite. It was a commander, and it was their presence that was directing the fight.
Without hesitation, Kaelen charged toward the commander. His sword hummed with power as he pushed through the battlefield, every movement swift and deliberate. The commander raised its weapon in preparation, but Kaelen was already upon it. The clash of their swords sent shockwaves through the air, and Kaelen felt the power of the commander's strike reverberate through his bones.
But Kaelen refused to back down. With a roar, he channeled his power into his blade, striking with a strength that sent the commander staggering back. For a moment, there was a flicker of something in the commander's eyes—surprise, perhaps—before the mask of indifference returned.
Kaelen wasn't finished. With a final, decisive swing, he slashed through the commander's guard, striking them down in a burst of dark energy.
The elite soldiers faltered, momentarily stunned by the loss of their leader. Kaelen took advantage of the opening, pressing forward and cutting down the remaining soldiers one by one. Loren and Elara fought fiercely alongside him, their weapons and magic carving a path through the enemies that had once seemed insurmountable.
The battlefield was a whirlwind of steel and magic, but after what felt like an eternity, the last of the elite soldiers crumbled to the ground.
Panting heavily, Kaelen stood over the fallen bodies, his sword still humming with the remnants of the battle. "Is that all they've got?"
Elara approached, her face pale but resolute. "No. That was just the beginning."