Shadows of Eryndor

The forest swallowed Magnus Varik and his dwindling band, its ancient pines clawing at the starless sky. The chant from the east pulsed like a fever in the air, its rhythm syncing with the curse in his blood, a taunting reminder of Vyrnathra's reach. Magnus led, his human form heavy with exhaustion, the beast caged but restless, its claws scratching at his mind. Isabella stumbled behind, bound by ropes Jakob had scavenged, her green eyes dull but sharp with defiance. Lirien flanked the group, her stolen silver spear gripped tight, her wounded leg leaving a faint blood trail. The Brotherhood of Flame—now only four—trailed silently, their armor scarred, their breaths uneven, haunted by the Warden's roar still echoing in their bones.The ground was soft, slick with frost and decay, muffling their steps but not the chant. It grew clearer now, not just sound but words—Vyrnathra, rise, claim, devour—carried by voices human and not, a chorus weaving through the trees. Magnus's jaw tightened, the curse stirring, painting flashes of fire and claws, of Eryndor's towers crumbling under a blood-red moon. He shook it off, his focus on the path ahead—to the capital, to answers, to an army that could face the growing dark."We're exposed here," Lirien muttered, her storm-gray eyes scanning the shadows. "The Warden's not far behind, and that chant… it's no coincidence. Her followers know we struck the Hollow."Magnus didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the faint glow of Eryndor's watchfires, miles distant but a beacon of hope—or ruin. The curse felt heavier now, not just in him but in the land, as if the forest itself were infected, its roots drinking Vyrnathra's will. He glanced at Isabella, her lips curled in a faint smirk despite her pain. "Speak," he growled, his voice raw, the beast's edge bleeding through. "What's waiting in the capital?"She laughed, a brittle sound, blood flecking her chin. "You think I'd warn you? The Mother's children are everywhere, Magnus. Your city's already hers."Jakob's hand twitched toward his sword, his face pale but resolute. "She's baiting you, my lord. Don't listen."But Magnus felt it—a truth in her words, cold and sharp, like a blade in his gut. The chant wasn't random; it was a summons, and Eryndor was its heart. He pressed forward, faster now, the Brotherhood struggling to keep pace. The trees thinned, revealing a ridge overlooking the capital's outer walls, their stone glinting under torchlight. But something was wrong—the watchfires flickered unevenly, and shadows moved where sentries should stand.Lirien crouched, her spear lowered, her voice a hiss. "Look—gates are open. No guards."Magnus's eyes narrowed, the beast's senses sharpening. He smelled blood, faint but fresh, mingled with smoke and something sour, like rot laced with iron. The chant was louder here, pouring from the city, not from temples but streets, homes, as if Eryndor itself were singing Vyrnathra's hymn. His heart sank, the curse pulsing in time with the sound, urging him to join it. He gritted his teeth, human will a fading spark."Ambush?" Jakob whispered, his sword half-drawn, his eyes darting to the walls."Worse," Magnus growled, the beast stirring, eager for what lay ahead. He turned to Isabella, grabbing her bound arms, ignoring her flinch. "What did she do to my city?"Her smirk widened, eyes gleaming. "She woke it, Magnus. Your people… they're hers now."A scream tore through the night, sharp and human, from the city's edge. Magnus released her, claws lengthening unbidden, the beast breaking free as he sprinted toward the sound. Lirien cursed, following, her spear ready. Jakob rallied the Brotherhood, their weapons raised, fear swallowed by duty. Isabella laughed behind, her voice fading as they descended.The outer district was a graveyard of silence, its cobblestone streets empty, shop doors swinging loose, torches gutted. Blood streaked the walls, not in pools but patterns—spirals, runes, pulsing faintly, like the Hollow's crystals. The chant was deafening now, a living thing, and Magnus's vision flickered, the curse showing him Eryndor burning, himself at its center, claws dripping. He snarled, shaking it off, his focus on a figure stumbling from an alley—a woman, her dress torn, eyes wild with terror."Lord Varik!" she gasped, collapsing before him, her hands clutching his boots. "They're gone—everyone—taken to the square. They sing… they kill…""Who?" Magnus demanded, kneeling, his voice a growl, the beast barely contained. Her fear fed it, and he fought to stay human, to listen.Her gaze darted to the city's heart, trembling. "The marked. They wear her sign—claws on their skin. They dragged my family… please…"Before she could finish, a shadow lunged from the alley, not beast but man, his eyes glowing red, a claw-shaped brand seared into his cheek. He wielded a butcher's knife, its blade crusted with blood, and swung for the woman. Magnus moved faster, claws tearing through the man's chest, his body crumpling, knife clattering. The woman screamed, scrambling back, her eyes not on the corpse but on Magnus, fear turning to horror at his half-beast form."Go," he growled, pointing to the ridge. She ran, sobbing, and he turned to Lirien, who stood frozen, spear lowered, her face pale. "Her followers—they're human?""Some," Lirien said, her voice tight. "The curse doesn't just make wolves. It twists minds, binds them to her. They're as dangerous as any beast."Jakob approached, his sword bloodied from another attacker, silent in the dark. "The square," he said, his voice grim. "That's where we'll find them—and answers."Magnus nodded, the beast roaring for blood, his human heart heavy with dread. The city he'd sworn to protect was a stranger, its pulse Vyrnathra's. He led them deeper, the chant guiding, taunting, the streets narrowing as shadows moved—human, beast, both, their eyes glowing with her mark. The square waited, and with it, the truth of what Eryndor had become.