The Attack

After a long, grueling day of training and cultivating, the sky began to darken, the orange glow of the setting sun slowly fading into dusk.

Avon, sweat trickling down his brow, focused on his swordwork, the steady rhythm of his movements reflecting his deep concentration. Kareal, on the other hand, sat cross-legged in the grass, his eyes closed and face calm as he cultivated, drawing the energy of the earth into his being.

As the last rays of sunlight vanished and the shadows of the forest stretched long across the land, Avon paused. Stretching his arms with a sigh of contentment, he felt a sense of satisfaction from the day's efforts. The soft rustle of the leaves in the evening breeze seemed to hum with peace, making him feel a rare moment of tranquility.

It was time to prepare dinner. Avon sheathed his blade and turned toward their humble home, a simple wooden structure nestled beside the dojo.

Kareal, however, remained seated, his eyes still closed, completely absorbed in his cultivation. The faint golden aura around him flickered and shimmered, like embers from a fire that had burned down but still held a faint glow.

The house, though small, felt warm and inviting. Avon quickly set to work in the kitchen, chopping mushrooms and seasoning the meat with skillful hands. The comforting scent of cooking food filled the small space, mixing with the earthy smells of the forest outside. The wind picked up, whistling through the trees, and the soft rustling of the leaves echoed around the clearing.

As darkness crept in, the forest became still. The chirps and calls of nocturnal creatures began to fill the silence, and a chill settled over the land. Inside, the rich aroma of mushroom pudding and roasted meat filled the air, and Kareal, sensing the meal, opened his eyes and smiled faintly.

Avon chuckled softly as he finished setting the table. He knew Kareal would always arrive just in time for the food to be served. It had become their little tradition over the years—Kareal would stay in deep focus until dinner was ready, and then he would join Avon, as if by magic.

True to form, Kareal entered just as Avon placed the last dish on the table. They sat cross-legged on the floor, the small flickering candle between them casting soft shadows on the walls.

Avon served the steaming bowls of creamy mushroom pudding and a large platter of roasted meat. Kareal, always the hearty eater, dove in with enthusiasm, savoring each bite. Avon couldn't help but grin as he watched his companion devour his meal. Despite the many hours spent cultivating, Kareal's appetite was always ravenous.

After they'd finished eating, Kareal leaned back with a satisfied sigh, his gaze distant as he began one of his favorite tales. Tonight, he spoke of his past adventures, recalling the days he spent with his old party, especially his closest friend, Valthor.

"Valthor was more than a friend," Kareal said, his voice heavy with emotion. "He was like a brother to me. We fought side by side, laughed together, and... carried each other through the toughest battles."

Avon, always curious, couldn't resist asking, "Where is Valthor now? Will I ever meet him?"

Kareal's expression darkened slightly, but he quickly masked it with a smile. "Perhaps one day," he replied softly, but his tone shifted, and he began recounting a more humorous moment from their past, one where Valthor had embarrassed himself in a battle. Avon laughed, enjoying the light-hearted change in mood, but part of him couldn't help but wonder about the true nature of Valthor's disappearance.

They shared more stories, the hours slipping by unnoticed. Avon cherished these moments. Kareal's tales always seemed to capture his attention, no matter how many times he'd heard them. The one about their first meeting was always told with fondness, though Kareal never mentioned the part about his fear when facing Zarek—the part that still haunted him.

Outside, the wind began to howl, growing more intense, and the sky above the forest rumbled with an unnatural fury. Avon felt a slight shift in the air, his instincts telling him something wasn't quite right.

A crack of thunder boomed through the sky, louder than any storm they had ever encountered, and the ground seemed to shake beneath them.

Kareal's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword, Luminous, the blade glowing faintly with an ethereal white light. "Stay close," he warned, his voice low and steady. His eyes scanned the room, his muscles coiled, ready for whatever threat was approaching.

Avon stood, his heart racing as the storm outside grew more violent. The wind screamed as it battered the walls, and the candlelight flickered erratically, casting long, eerie shadows.

And then, just as the storm reached its peak, the door suddenly exploded inward. Splinters flew in every direction as dark, shadowy figures rushed into the room.

Avon's breath caught in his throat as he saw them: shades—living shadows, moving with unnatural speed and malice. Their forms shifted and writhed in the dim light, almost impossible to track.

Kareal's blade blazed brighter, casting the room in a brilliant light that pushed back the encroaching darkness. "Avon, stay back!" Kareal commanded, his voice sharp as he raised Luminous, ready to strike.

But Avon's instincts kicked in. He grabbed Kareal's staff, the solid wood feeling strangely light in his hands, and swung it at the nearest shade. But it passed through the creature harmlessly, as if it weren't even there.

The shade retaliated in a blur of motion, slamming Avon to the ground with a force that stole the breath from his lungs. The shadow loomed over him, its weightless body pinning him down with terrifying strength.

Kareal fought valiantly, his sword flashing in the dim light, cutting through the shades with precision. But the more they struck, the more shadows seemed to appear, flooding the room with their malevolent presence.

"Avon, get up!" Kareal shouted, his voice strained. But Avon, gasping for air, struggled beneath the shade, his vision blurring as the creature's weight pressed down on him.