the shadow's assault

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, the crackling of the dying fire the only sound to break the unnatural stillness. Lira's heart pounded in her chest as she stood beside Thorne, her fingers gripping her dagger tightly, knuckles white. The strange creatures—figures cloaked in darkness with glowing eyes—advanced slowly, circling their camp with unnatural precision. Their movements were fluid, like phantoms in the night, unsettling in their silence. But their eyes, those glowing, ember-like eyes, held an intense, predatory hunger. Lira couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't just hunting—they were waiting.

Thorne's sharp gaze never left the creatures, his body tense with readiness. His sword was drawn, the blade gleaming faintly in the dying light. The creatures were too many—at least a dozen, maybe more—and though they moved with grace, there was a weight to their presence that sent a shiver down Lira's spine. This was no random attack. These beings weren't after just any traveler. They were after her.

"Thorne, what are they?" Lira whispered, her voice barely audible, the words barely escaping her lips.

"They're wraiths," Thorne replied, his voice low but controlled, as though he had encountered them before. "Vessel-born. Spirits corrupted by the magic that binds the world. They're dangerous, and they'll tear us apart if we don't act fast."

"Vessel-born?" Lira repeated, confused.

"They were once human, or something close. But the magic of the world corrupted them. Now, they're nothing but shadows. They follow the darkness, and they are drawn to the light."

Lira's eyes narrowed. "Are they following me?"

"They're after something much darker than that." Thorne's voice was edged with urgency. "They want your power, Lira. You're the Sungod. You're the source of the power that's been locked away for centuries. And they'll stop at nothing to claim it for themselves."

Lira's blood ran cold. She had been prepared for danger, but this… this was something else. She wasn't just a target because of who she was—she was a beacon, a prize to these creatures, one that could destroy everything in its path if it fell into the wrong hands.

The wraiths drew closer, their forms becoming more distinct in the firelight. They weren't quite human, yet they weren't fully monstrous either. Their features were vaguely humanoid but twisted, their skin stretched too thin, their faces hollow, like empty masks of the dead. Their movements were smooth, unnatural. The only thing that remained truly human about them were their eyes—burning with an unholy hunger that seemed to pierce into Lira's very soul.

Thorne stepped forward, his sword raised in a defensive stance, his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. "Stay behind me," he ordered.

Lira wanted to argue—wanted to insist that she could fight too, that she wasn't some helpless damsel to be protected. But she knew, deep down, that this wasn't a battle she could win alone. Not yet. Not without understanding her power.

The wraiths stopped their advance when they were just a few feet away, forming a semi-circle around them. Their hollow, emotionless eyes fixed on Lira, and she felt an unnatural pressure settle over her, like the weight of a thousand gazes pressing into her skin. It was suffocating. Their presence was a void, an endless dark pit trying to swallow her whole.

Lira gripped her dagger tighter, her hands trembling. Her heart raced, her thoughts spinning in a blur. She wanted to use her magic, to do something—anything—to stop them, but there was nothing. Nothing but this void of uncertainty.

Thorne didn't move, but his expression was taut, his focus unwavering. He was waiting, waiting for the right moment to strike. But Lira could see the uncertainty in his eyes too, the hesitation, the awareness that these wraiths weren't the typical enemy they faced. These creatures were born from the same dark force that Lira was meant to control, and that made them unpredictable.

One of the wraiths stepped forward, its movements eerily smooth, its eyes locking onto Lira's. The air around them seemed to grow colder, and Lira felt a chill crawl up her spine. The wraith's lips parted in a twisted, unnatural smile—a grotesque imitation of something human.

Lira recoiled instinctively, her body tensing in fear. The wraith's presence was overpowering, suffocating, like an abyss calling her to drown in it. Its voice, when it spoke, was like a whisper in her mind. "You cannot escape, Sungod. You are mine."

The words echoed in her head, and for a moment, Lira felt herself falter. The fear was rising within her, threatening to overwhelm her. But then she heard Thorne's voice, sharp and commanding, cutting through the haze.

"Fight, Lira!"

With his words, something inside her snapped. The fear, the uncertainty—everything. She wasn't just going to stand there, waiting for these wraiths to take her power. She was going to fight back. She had to.

Lira's fingers tingled, the magic that had been swirling inside her now bubbling to the surface, desperate for release. She clenched her hand into a fist, and with a surge of determination, she called upon that wild, untamed force. The air around her pulsed with energy as the magic stirred, a raw, ancient power that surged from deep within her.

The wraith closest to her faltered, its hollow eyes widening as it recoiled from the sudden wave of energy. But Lira didn't stop. She focused, her mind working in tandem with the power inside her. She needed to control it. She needed to direct it.

With a forceful thrust of her hand, she released the magic. A blast of light and raw power erupted from her fingertips, slamming into the wraith with a force that sent it flying backward, its body disintegrating into a cloud of dust and shadows.

Lira gasped, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She had never felt anything like that before—so much power, so much control. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

But there was no time to rest. The other wraiths lunged forward, hissing, their forms shifting like smoke as they closed the gap between them. Thorne's sword was a blur as he cut through the nearest one, but the creatures kept coming, undeterred.

Lira wasn't sure what came over her next, but the magic inside her surged again, wild and uncontrollable. She lifted her hands, calling the power, and the world seemed to bend to her will. With a cry, she unleashed another wave of energy, this one even more intense than the last. The force of it sent the remaining wraiths sprawling, their forms twisting and writhing as the magic seared through them like fire.

The wraiths let out screams—if they could be called screams—high-pitched and shrill, before their bodies collapsed into dust. The forest fell silent again, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the heavy breaths of Thorne and Lira.

Lira stood there, panting, her legs weak beneath her. The power she had called upon was both exhilarating and draining, a storm inside her that she could barely contain. Her hands were still trembling, and she could feel the residual energy swirling inside her like a restless tide, threatening to break free again.

Thorne was at her side in an instant, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "You did it," he said, his voice low but filled with awe.

Lira nodded, her chest still heaving with each breath. "I… I didn't know I could do that."

"You've got more power inside you than you realize," Thorne said, his tone serious. "But you need to learn to control it. What happened tonight? That was only the beginning. There's much more to come."

Lira's thoughts were still racing, the fear, the power, and the realization that she had just fought back the darkness that had been chasing her. But as Thorne's words settled in, the gravity of the situation began to sink in. This was just the start of a much bigger fight, a fight that she wasn't sure she was ready for.

But as the firelight flickered in the silence, Lira knew one thing for certain—she couldn't afford to back down.

Not now. Not ever.