CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT: THE SHADOWS CLOSE IN

"When darkness closes in, it is not strength that carries you forward, but the unyielding belief that the light still waits beyond the shadows."------ Khaimah Peter

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The forest swallowed them in silence, an oppressive quiet that made every step feel heavier. The moon hung low in the sky, casting silver streaks through the canopy, but even its light seemed muted — as if the heavens themselves dared not shine too brightly on what was to come.

Gravill's breathing was shallow, his body wracked with exhaustion. Elsa wiped sweat from his brow, her fingers trembling despite her resolve. Every bruise, every scrape on his skin, felt like a mark of her failure to protect him. Yet she stayed vigilant, eyes darting across the treeline.

Nicholas crouched a few feet away, fingers tracing intricate glyphs into the dirt. The faint glow of magic hummed under his fingertips, pulsating in rhythm with his heartbeat. "Something's tracking us," he muttered, voice low enough that only Owen's sharp hearing caught it. "I can feel it pressing against the wards."

Owen's golden eyes gleamed in the dim light, his wolf instincts flaring like fire beneath his skin. He rose to his full height, muscles taut, his gaze locked onto the shadows stretching between the trees. "Not something," he rumbled, voice thick with the growl beneath his words. "Someone."

Elsa's grip tightened on her dagger, her knuckles turning white. "Karl." The name slipped from her lips like venom.

Owen nodded, baring his teeth. "And if Karl is here, the Hematoi lord isn't far behind."

Nicholas pressed a hand to the ground, reinforcing the protective circle as his pulse raced. "If Karl reaches us, the lord will know. He could bring more than just his shadows."

Owen's growl deepened, his eyes flicking to Gravill. "They won't take him," he snarled, claws extending from his fingertips. "Not while I breathe."

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Meanwhile: Karl's Approach

Perched on a rocky outcrop, Karl watched the dim glow of Nicholas's ward flicker through the trees. His lips curled into a predatory grin, fingers twirling the obsidian shard as if it were a toy. The Hematoi lord's command echoed in his skull, the weight of the order mingling with the cold thrill of the hunt.

Gravill must live. The others? Expendable.

He pressed the shard into the earth, murmuring an ancient incantation. The shadows around him twisted, congealing into creatures born of the void — sinewy forms with jagged limbs and eyes like burning coals. They slithered across the forest floor, their bodies weaving through the undergrowth like liquid darkness, drawn to divine blood like moths to flame.

Karl stood, brushing dirt from his coat. "This ends tonight," he whispered, voice carrying like a promise. He descended the ridge, the creatures spilling out ahead of him — silent heralds of death.

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The Forgotten Isle Beckons

Gravill stirred, pain giving way to something else — something deeper. A voice echoed in his mind, distant yet deafening, calling him across space and time.

The Forgotten Isle.

Visions bloomed behind his eyelids: a sunken temple, its pillars encrusted with coral; a trident glowing in a pool of liquid starlight; a figure wrapped in shadow standing at an altar, eyes like the abyss.

His body jolted, and he shot upright with a gasp, clutching Elsa's arm for support. "We have to go," he rasped, chest heaving. "The isle... there's something there. Something we need."

Elsa's brow furrowed, worry pooling in her gaze. "Gravill, you're too weak to keep moving. You need rest."

Owen, still poised to strike, didn't take his eyes off the treeline. "If the isle is calling him, we can't ignore it," he said. "But moving now is suicide."

Nicholas stood, extinguishing the glyph with a sweep of his hand. "If the isle is tied to his bloodline, it could hold answers," he said, shouldering his pack. "We move. But carefully."

Owen gave a curt nod, kneeling beside Gravill. "I'll carry him," he said, already lifting the boy onto his back like he weighed nothing.

The group pressed on, slipping through the forest like ghosts. But the shadows followed, the void creatures slinking closer with every step. The air grew heavy, thick with the stench of decay and magic.

They reached a narrow ravine when Owen froze, nostrils flaring. He set Gravill down and turned, his body trembling as his bones shifted and cracked. Fur rippled across his skin, his muscles swelling as he transformed into his wolf form, towering and monstrous, with eyes like molten gold.

The creatures broke through the treeline.

And Karl stepped into the clearing, smirking as he twirled his dagger. "Going somewhere?"

The void creatures circled the group, growling and snapping. Karl's gaze locked onto Gravill, his grin widening. "Hand him over," he said. "Or I start carving through your little pack."

Owen lunged without hesitation, colliding with the creatures in a flurry of teeth and claws. Elsa and Nicholas stood back-to-back, blades and magic flashing as the horde closed in.

Gravill, still weakened, pressed his hand to the ground. The echo of the Forgotten Isle thundered through him, the vision of the trident burning like a brand in his mind.

He didn't know how he knew — but he understood one thing with absolute certainty.

If they didn't reach the isle, they were all going to die.