The Crimson Tide

The march eastward was relentless, a grim procession through the shadowed valleys and dense forests that bordered Skull Mountain. Each step carried the warriors deeper into lands untouched by their wrath, yet already tainted by whispers of fear. Tales of Black Hollow's annihilation had spread like wildfire, carried on the tongues of refugees fleeing for their lives. Entire villages had begun to fortify themselves, barricading doors and sharpening farming tools in preparation for an attack they prayed would never come. But prayers were futile against the crimson tide.

Eira walked near the front of the group now, her presence marked by a quiet determination that set her apart from the others. She had seen too much death, heard too many screams, and felt the weight of guilt pressing down on her chest with every breath. Yet she kept moving, driven not by loyalty to Red-Eye or his cause but by the desperate hope that somehow, somewhere, she might find a way to stop him—or at least survive long enough to see the end of this nightmare.

Kael noticed her change in demeanor, his sharp eyes catching the subtle shifts in her posture and expression. He slowed his pace to match hers, falling into step beside her as the group trudged along a narrow forest trail. "You're different today," he observed, his voice low enough to avoid drawing attention. "Something weighs on you."

Eira glanced at him briefly before returning her gaze to the path ahead. "Doesn't it weigh on all of us?" she replied, her tone clipped. "Every village we destroy, every life we take—it's not just them who suffers. It's us too."

Kael frowned slightly, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. "This is our purpose," he said firmly, though there was a flicker of doubt in his crimson eyes. "We serve the mountain. We obey Red-Eye. There is no other way."

"Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?" Eira shot back, her voice rising despite her efforts to keep it steady. "Or do you even sleep anymore?"

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with accusation and unspoken truths. Kael opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Mira called out from further ahead. "Keep moving! We don't have time for idle chatter!"

Eira clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. Whatever doubts she harbored would have to wait; survival demanded her full attention.

---

By late afternoon, the warriors reached the outskirts of their next target—a modest settlement nestled in a wide clearing surrounded by rolling hills. Unlike Ashen Hollow, which had been caught completely off guard, this village showed signs of preparation. Wooden barricades lined the perimeter, reinforced with carts and furniture scavenged from nearby homes. Armed villagers stood watch atop makeshift towers, their faces pale but resolute as they scanned the horizon for any sign of danger.

Red-Eye halted the group at the edge of the tree line, studying the defenses with a mixture of amusement and disdain. "They think they can stand against us," he growled, his scarred lips curling into a cruel smile. "Fools."

"What's the plan, my lord?" Kael asked, stepping forward to join him. His crimson eyes darted toward the barricades, assessing weak points and potential threats.

"We break them," Red-Eye replied simply, raising his massive axe. "Burn the barricades. Kill anyone who resists. And bring me their leader."

The warriors nodded grimly, spreading out to encircle the village. They moved with practiced precision, their crimson eyes glowing faintly in the waning daylight as they prepared to strike. Eira found herself positioned near the rear of the group, her blade drawn and her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She tried to steady her breathing, focusing on the rhythm of her footsteps as she advanced toward the settlement.

As the first torches were hurled over the barricades, chaos erupted. Flames licked hungrily at the wooden structures, sending plumes of thick smoke spiraling into the sky. Villagers shouted warnings, scrambling to extinguish the fires while others rushed to defend their homes. Arrows flew from the towers, striking true in some cases but doing little to slow the advancing horde.

Eira hesitated at the edge of the fray, watching as her comrades surged forward with brutal efficiency. Garrik smashed through one section of the barricade with a single swing of his warhammer, sending splinters flying in all directions. Lira darted past him, her daggers flashing as she cut down anyone who dared oppose her. Mira laughed maniacally, reveling in the destruction as she tormented her victims with cruel taunts.

And then there was Red-Eye, towering above the battlefield like a vengeful god. His axe cleaved through defenders with ease, each strike accompanied by a deafening roar that shook the very ground beneath their feet. The villagers fought valiantly, their desperation lending strength to their blows, but it wasn't enough. One by one, they fell, their cries of defiance drowned out by the cacophony of steel and flame.

Amidst the carnage, Eira spotted a figure standing atop the largest tower—a man clad in simple leather armor, clutching a spear and shouting orders to the remaining defenders. His face was streaked with soot, his eyes blazing with defiance as he rallied his people. "Hold the line!" he bellowed, his voice carrying over the din of battle. "For Ashen Hollow! For Black Hollow! For everyone they've taken from us!"

Eira froze, her blade trembling in her hand as she watched the man rally his forces. There was something about him—his courage, his refusal to yield—that stirred something deep within her. For the first time since joining the warriors of Skull Mountain, she felt a pang of regret sharper than any wound she'd suffered in battle.

Before she could act, however, Red-Eye turned his gaze toward the tower. With a guttural snarl, he raised his axe and charged, smashing through the barricade with terrifying force. The defenders scrambled to intercept him, but they were no match for his sheer brutality. Within moments, he reached the base of the tower, scaling it with unnatural speed and agility.

The leader saw him coming and braced himself, raising his spear in a final act of defiance. "You'll pay for what you've done!" he shouted, lunging forward with all his strength.

Red-Eye caught the spear mid-swing, snapping it in half with a single twist of his wrist. He grabbed the man by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. "Your bravery is admirable," he sneered, his glowing eyes narrowing. "But bravery means nothing when faced with inevitability."

With that, he hurled the man from the tower, sending him crashing to the ground below. The impact silenced the battlefield momentarily, the defenders staring in horror as their leader's broken body lay motionless in the dirt.

"No…" Eira whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling flames and distant screams. Tears welled in her eyes as she realized the futility of resistance—the sheer impossibility of stopping Red-Eye and his warriors. Yet even as despair threatened to consume her, a spark of defiance ignited within her chest.

She couldn't save these people. She couldn't undo the horrors she'd witnessed. But maybe—just maybe—she could find a way to fight back.

---

When the battle finally ended, the village was reduced to ashes, its defenders either dead or captured. The survivors were herded together in the center of the clearing, their faces pale with terror as they awaited their fate. Red-Eye strode among them, his axe dripping with blood as he selected those who would live and those who would die.

Eira lingered at the edge of the group, her mind racing with possibilities. She glanced at Kael, who stood nearby with a conflicted expression, then at Mira, whose sadistic grin sent shivers down her spine. Finally, her gaze settled on Red-Eye, whose crimson eyes glowed with malevolent triumph.

"This isn't over," she murmured under her breath, clutching her blade tightly. "Not yet."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the ruined village in shadows, the warriors of Skull Mountain prepared to move on to their next conquest. But unbeknownst to them, a seed of rebellion had been planted—one that might yet grow into something capable of challenging the crimson tide.

And so, the nightmare continued, spreading across the land like a plague. But even in the darkest hour, hope flickered faintly, waiting for the right moment to ignite.