Chapter 72: Shadows in the Mist

The horn's echo faded, but its haunting tone lingered in the air, chilling the jubilant camp to silence. Warriors leapt into action, grabbing weapons and preparing for what was to come. The festive atmosphere transformed into one of tense anticipation as Lucian and Lyra led the charge toward the edge of the forest.

"Who could it be this time?" Magnus growled, his broad shoulders bristling with restrained fury. "We just took down Veren's forces. Can't these bastards give us a moment's peace?"

Selene appeared beside them, her golden eyes sharp. "It's not the Council," she said, her voice low. "Their presence feels… different."

Lucian nodded, his senses on high alert. The forest ahead was cloaked in mist, unnatural and thick, the kind that whispered of magic and danger.

"Stay sharp," Lucian ordered, his voice cutting through the murmurs of the group. "Whatever's out there, it's not here to negotiate."

As they ventured deeper into the fog, the temperature dropped, their breaths visible in the cold air. The mist curled around their feet, dampening their movements and muffling their footsteps. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant howl of wind.

Lyra stayed close to Lucian, her blade drawn, her sharp eyes scanning their surroundings. "This feels wrong," she murmured.

Lucian nodded grimly. "It's a trap."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the attack came. Figures emerged from the mist—pale, gaunt creatures with glowing crimson eyes and jagged claws. They moved with unnatural speed, their guttural growls echoing through the trees.

"Form up!" Lucian roared, rallying his warriors.

The creatures descended on them, but the group held their ground, their training and unity turning the tide. Magnus swung his massive axe in wide arcs, scattering the creatures like leaves, while Selene's arrows found their marks with deadly precision.

Lyra was a blur of motion, her blade flashing as she cut down one creature after another. But even as they fought, more emerged from the mist, their numbers seemingly endless.

"They just keep coming!" Magnus bellowed, his axe cleaving through another foe.

Lucian's mind raced as he fought, his blade slicing through the creatures with ruthless efficiency. These weren't ordinary enemies—they were summoned, tied to the magic of the mist. And as long as the source remained, the creatures would continue to swarm.

"We need to find the summoner," Lucian said, his voice carrying over the chaos. "Selene, can you track the source?"

Selene nodded, her golden eyes glowing as she closed them briefly, focusing on the threads of magic that wove through the mist. When she opened them, her gaze locked on a distant point deeper in the forest.

"There," she said, pointing. "The magic's strongest in that direction."

Lucian turned to Lyra. "Stay with me. Magnus, hold the line with the others. Don't let these things overrun the camp."

Magnus grinned despite the blood streaking his face. "You got it, boss. Go handle the big bad."

Lucian and Lyra broke away from the group, moving swiftly through the forest with Selene leading the way. The mist grew denser as they approached the source, the air heavy with the stench of decay and dark magic.

When they reached a clearing, they found the summoner—a hooded figure standing in the center of a glowing sigil carved into the earth. The figure's hands moved in intricate patterns, chanting in a guttural language that made the air vibrate with power.

"Stop them!" Lucian shouted, charging forward.

The summoner turned, and with a flick of their wrist, the ground erupted. Shadows surged upward, forming into monstrous shapes that lunged at them.

Lucian and Lyra fought side by side, their blades cutting through the shadowy constructs. But the summoner's magic was relentless, and for every shadow they destroyed, another rose to take its place.

"We can't keep this up forever!" Lyra shouted, her movements growing more desperate.

Lucian's mind raced. The sigil was the key—it was the source of the summoner's power. If they could disrupt it, they could stop the summoning.

"Cover me!" Lucian ordered, his voice firm.

Lyra didn't hesitate, throwing herself into the fray to give him the opening he needed. Lucian surged forward, his blade glowing with a brilliant light as he channeled his energy into it.

The summoner turned, their glowing eyes narrowing as they realized his intent. They raised their hands to cast another spell, but Lucian was faster. With a powerful strike, he drove his blade into the center of the sigil, shattering it.

The clearing erupted in light, the force of the disruption sending the summoner flying backward. The shadows dissolved into nothingness, and the mist began to dissipate.

When the light faded, Lucian stood in the center of the ruined sigil, his chest heaving. Lyra approached him, her blade still in hand, her gaze flicking to the fallen summoner.

"It's over," she said softly.

Lucian shook his head. "Not yet."

He approached the summoner, who lay on the ground, their hood pulled back to reveal a pale, angular face. The summoner's crimson eyes burned with defiance even as their strength waned.

"You're too late," the summoner rasped, their voice like broken glass. "This was only the beginning."

Lucian frowned, his grip tightening on his blade. "What do you mean?"

The summoner's lips curled into a cruel smile. "The Council's plans are already in motion. You've only delayed the inevitable."

With that, the summoner let out a final, guttural laugh before their body disintegrated into ash, leaving only the faint hum of lingering magic in the air.

Lyra stepped beside Lucian, her expression grim. "What now?"

Lucian stared at the ashes, his jaw set. "We prepare for what's coming. Whatever the Council has planned, we'll be ready."

And as they made their way back to the camp, the stars above seemed to dim, a silent warning of the darkness still to come.