A Battle of Blades and Instinct

The wind shifted—subtle, but unnatural.

Then—

Silence.

The fire dimmed for just a moment—

And then the attack came.

A blur of shadow and motion erupted from the trees, moving with unnatural speed.

Argolaith's blade was in his hands instantly.

The creature was fast—faster than anything he'd fought before.

A twisted shape, humanoid in outline, but wrong. Its limbs were elongated, moving in jerking, unnatural ways. Its skin was dark, shifting like living ink, blending into the night.

Kaelred barely had time to draw his sword before the thing was upon them.

Malakar did not move.

He only watched.

Argolaith's first strike was clean—a perfect arc of steel cutting through the air.

The creature dodged.

Not with speed—with anticipation.

It knew where the strike was going to land.

Argolaith's mind raced.

It's reading my attacks.