The Warden's Wrath

The Warden's roar split the cavern like a thunderclap, stone splintering under its weight as it charged. Magnus Varik's claws lengthened, the beast surging despite the ache in his bones, its hunger sharpened by the stench of ancient malice radiating from the creature. Its form was a nightmare of bone and molten rock, horns curling like blackened thorns, eyes blazing with a fire that burned colder than frost. Each step cracked the earth, the Choir's ash swirling in its wake, and the air grew thick, heavy with a dread that clawed at Magnus's soul."Run!" Lirien shouted, her voice raw, shoving Jakob toward the tunnel they'd entered. The Brotherhood of Flame scrambled, their silver weapons useless against this monstrosity, their faces pale with primal fear. Magnus stood his ground, dragging Isabella with him, her blood-slicked body a burden he refused to release. She laughed, a weak, gurgling sound, her green eyes gleaming with twisted delight. "You can't outrun it, Magnus," she rasped. "The Warden's hers—born of her rage."The beast in Magnus roared, eager to meet the challenge, but his human mind calculated—fleeing was their only chance. He hauled Isabella over his shoulder and sprinted after Lirien, the Brotherhood's boots pounding behind him. The tunnel shook, chunks of stone raining down as the Warden barreled forward, its massive frame tearing through the narrow passage like paper. Its roar was no longer just sound—it was a force, slamming into Magnus's back, threatening to crush his ribs.The tunnel twisted upward, its walls pulsing with black crystal veins that flickered in sync with the Warden's eyes. Magnus's vision blurred, the curse stirring, whispering memories not his own—flashes of a war where skies bled fire, where Vyrnathra's claws carved mountains into graves. He growled, shaking it off, his focus on the faint light ahead—the ravine's mouth, their only escape. Lirien led, her wounded leg slowing her, but her resolve unyielding, her storm-gray eyes fixed on survival.Jakob stumbled, his sword clattering as a stone struck his shoulder. Magnus caught him, shoving him forward. "Keep moving!" he snarled, the beast's edge in his voice. The Warden's heat was closer now, searing the air, its claws scraping sparks from the walls. A scream echoed—one of the Brotherhood, too slow, crushed under a collapsing slab, his cry cut short. Magnus didn't look back. He couldn't. Guilt was a luxury for later.The ravine's edge loomed, starlight piercing the dark. Lirien reached it first, scrambling up the slick rock, her blood trailing behind. Magnus threw Isabella ahead, her body hitting the ground with a thud, and turned, claws bared, as the Warden burst into view. It was larger now, impossibly so, its molten flesh dripping, reforming with each step, its horns scraping the cavern's ceiling. Its eyes locked onto Magnus, not with hunger but recognition, as if it saw the curse in his blood and named it kin."Magnus, climb!" Jakob shouted, already halfway up, pulling a wounded brother with him. But Magnus didn't move. The beast wanted this fight, and for once, he agreed. The Warden wasn't just a guardian—it was a piece of Vyrnathra, a key to understanding the curse. He roared, the sound shaking the ravine, and charged.The Warden met him head-on, its claw slamming into his chest, hurling him against the wall. Pain exploded, ribs cracking, but the beast fed on it, fueling his counterattack. Magnus slashed, his claws raking across the Warden's arm, drawing molten ichor that burned his fur. It didn't flinch, its other claw swinging, faster than thought. He ducked, the strike shattering stone above him, and lunged, sinking his fangs into its shoulder. The taste was fire and ash, poisoning his blood, but he held on, tearing deep.The Warden howled, a sound that shook the earth, and flung him off, his body crashing near the ravine's edge. The curse surged, stronger now, painting his vision red, urging him to give in, to become the beast fully. He saw himself tearing the Warden apart, then turning on his own men, bloodlust unending. "No," he growled, human will clawing back, and staggered to his feet.Lirien appeared above, a silver spear in hand—one of the Brotherhood's, dropped in the chaos. "Magnus, move!" she yelled, hurling it. The spear struck the Warden's chest, silver flashing against molten rock, and it staggered, its roar faltering. The wound didn't kill—it couldn't—but it slowed, ichor pooling at its feet.Magnus seized the chance, scrambling up the ravine, Jakob and Lirien pulling him over the edge. The Brotherhood—now only four—waited, their eyes wide with terror but holding their ground. Isabella lay nearby, panting, her smirk gone, replaced by a flicker of fear as the Warden's roar echoed below."Keep going!" Magnus ordered, grabbing Isabella and sprinting toward the forest. The ground shook, the Warden climbing, its claws gouging the rock. The trees loomed, their branches clawing the sky, and Magnus felt the curse pulse, weaker but alive, tying him to the horror behind. The blood moon was gone, hidden by clouds, but its absence offered no relief.They reached the forest's edge, the Warden's heat fading but not gone. Magnus dropped Isabella, his breath ragged, his body human again, though the beast lingered in his veins. Lirien knelt, checking her wounds, her face grim. "It's not dead," she said, her voice low. "Wardens don't die easy. It'll hunt us."Jakob wiped blood from his face, his sword sheathed but his hand trembling. "We've lost too many, my lord. We can't fight that thing—not now."Magnus's jaw tightened, the weight of the dead—Korr, Dren, the others—crushing him. "We don't fight," he said, his voice cold, resolute. "We regroup. Eryndor's army will answer this." He turned to Isabella, who lay silent, her eyes darting to the ravine. "And you'll tell me everything—where she is, what she wants."Isabella's laugh was faint, bitter. "You think it's that simple? Vyrnathra's not a place or a plan. She's a force. And you're part of her, Magnus, whether you like it or not."Before he could respond, a new sound cut through the night—not a roar, but a chant, faint, carried on the wind. The same hymn from the Hollow, but distant, coming from the east—Eryndor's heartlands. Lirien's eyes widened, her hand tightening on her stolen spear. "Her followers," she whispered. "They're waking too."Magnus stared into the dark, the curse stirring, a reminder of the war he couldn't escape. The Warden was coming, Vyrnathra's will spreading, and Eryndor stood on the edge of ruin. He was lord, warrior, monster—but for how long?"Move," he growled, leading them into the forest, the chant growing louder, the beast pacing in his soul.