Eris let go.
He gathered the agonizing pressure in his lungs, braced his fracturing bones, and pushed. He harnessed a final, desperate resolve for a surge of a silver storm that would either tear the sky apart or rip his body to pieces.
The silver fire in his chest peaked—
and then suddenly collapsed.
The magic died.
Like a damp fuse, the pressure in his skull vanished into a hollow gasp. The silver essence in his throat evaporated, and the freezing heat behind his blindfold dissolved, leaving his throat burning and his limbs leaden. The silver beneath his skin retreated into his veins. His knees buckled, and he crashed forward into the loose shale, completely spent, his breath coming in shallow, ragged wheezes against the dirt.
Above the ridge, the massive volley of flaming arrows reached the apex of its arc, beginning its fatal descent toward the jammed gate.
"They didn't even spare us..." Tomvalt, the limping scout, muttered, covering his head and crawling under the wagon.
"They'll burn us all!" the other scout wept, frozen against the stone.
Kaylah stumbled forward, her face deathly pale as she collapsed to her knees beside Eris's limp frame, pulling her two siblings tight against her chest. Barney squeezed his eyes shut, ducking behind the other mules, while the rest could only look up, bracing for the impact.
Flaming arrows struck all around them.
Fire blossomed across the ridge. Arrows buried themselves in the earth and splintered against the rocks. Sparks leaped through the mist as flames spread through the dead grass.
The ridge was burning.
Their small patch of ground remained untouched.
Yet, not one of the flaming arrows reached them.
Through his palms pressed against the gravel, Eris felt a heavy thud—the shockwave of Ruvio striking the butt of his wooden staff into the stone.
The sky didn't roar with thunder, but the air grew instantly frigid. A static crackle hissed through the damp mist as Ruvio channeled his power, forcing the dormant silver in the stone and air to respond like a living thing. The ground groaned, and an unnatural wind blew through the pass, carrying the scent of ozone and damp earth.
The sky darkened as a heavy shadow passed over the sun. Eris heard a deafening crack split the air just above the ridge as a massive tremor peaked directly beneath the crest. The bowmen lost their footing, their shots throwing wild as arrows clattered uselessly against the stone or sailed harmlessly into the fog.
The earth at the crest split. A jagged fissure tore across the throat of the pass. The Order commander shouted an order to advance toward the gate, ignoring the two defenders, but the roar of the collapse swallowed his voice. The entire crest gave way, sending him and his detachment tumbling down the sheer slope. Their screams were cut short as they hit the sharp shale below, buried under the sudden rockfall.
The face of the ridge sheared vertically in a massive landslide of scree and iron. Below, the climbing foot soldiers were caught in the deluge, tons of falling rock crushing the advancing vanguard in seconds. Where a manageable slope had once been, the mountain was now a razor-sharp cliff face. No army could climb it.
From the fresh wound in the ridge, a thin silver vapor rose through the dust, coiling briefly above the shattered rock before dissolving into the mist.
Gradually, the heavy shaking stilled, leaving behind a dense cyclone of dust that masked both the heights and the valley floor.
Eris lay panting in the dirt, the scorching threat of the fire arrows gone. Through the stone, he felt the heavy, distinct vibrations of boots and paws sprinting across the flat ground as Barik, Dara, and the wolf pack moved in to sweep the clearing.
An Order knight and two bowmen who had managed to scramble onto solid ground were disoriented, clutching for balance. Barik closed the distance in three strides, his heavy axe executing a brutal horizontal sweep that sent the two bowmen flying. Dara darted past the last knight, her dagger finding the seam beneath his helmet before he could raise his shield, while the wolves and hounds tore down the rest.
The ridge fell dead silent.
Down in the valley, the distant Order commanders frantically signaled for a secondary volley. A cloud of black bolts arced upward from the ranks below, but without the elevation of the crest, the arrows fell far short—splintering harmlessly against the lower rocks hundreds of feet beneath the ridge. Ruvio's tremor had turned the manageable slope into a sheer cliff. There was no way to climb it—not without ropes, not without time
Dara wiped her bloody daggers on her tunic, her sharp eyes scanning the fallen. Knowing arrows would be scarce once they went deep, she moved through the debris, collecting unbent shafts, full quivers, and a few unbroken longbows from the dead.
Ruvio stepped to the edge of the sheared cliff, looking down at the ruined, impassable ridge. Below, the vanguard was furiously trying to reposition a heavy catapult. They wouldn't stop until everyone atop the ridge was dead. The old man turned his gaze back toward the dark, gaping entrance of the Service Conduit.
"The mountain has closed the door behind us, but we are still within their reach," Ruvio said softly, his voice echoing off the stone. "Now, we must face what lies ahead."
Hands clutched at Eris's tunic. Through the blind darkness of his sensory bubble, he recognized the frantic touch of Kaylah, Myrah, and Leo as they scrambled to his side.
Kaylah pressed her palms against Eris's chest, attempting to channel her energy to soothe his hemorrhaging silver veins. But her own strength had been drained by the Orb; the light in her hands flickered weakly and died, leaving her gasping for breath.
Then, a smaller set of hands locked onto his wrist.
The moment Myrah's fingers met his skin, a subtle wave of calm washed over him. It wasn't a loud, burning flare of magic—it was a cooling sensation that relaxed the hammering pulse in his temples and stilled the chaotic silver storm in his heart. The void in his palm closed, and the bleeding from his nose gradually stopped. Eris was too exhausted to trace the source of the shift, but his breathing smoothed out as her aura anchored his mind.
Leo watched over them, keeping his body positioned between his siblings and the cliff's edge. His hands tightly gripped a discarded short sword he had scooped up from the dirt.
As Eris's hearing slowly returned, a distant, hollow whistling noise reached his ears, followed by a heavy thud from the rock face far below.
"They are calibrating their catapults," Dara said, adjusting the strap of a plundered quiver over her shoulder. "Those were range-finding stones. It won't take them long to adjust their machines and hit this clearing. We have to leave."
Nearby, Barik wiped his axe clean on a fallen knight's cloak. He knelt by the dead man, callously stripping the corpse of its sword, boots, and armor until the man was left almost stark naked. He slung the scavenged gear over his shoulder with a shameless grin.
"Barbarian," Dara muttered, rolling her eyes.
Barik shrugged, untroubled. "They won't stop trying to kill us, and dead men don't need boots."
Ruvio's grip on his staff didn't loosen as another distant whistling stone shattered against the lower cliffs. "We've bought ourselves a few minutes. But the Order is relentless. They will find another way up."
The ridge fell silent again, save for the faint groans of the wounded soldiers trapped at the bottom of the ravine. With the path behind them transformed into a sheer drop, the only way left was forward—straight into the dark mouth of the Service Conduit where the jammed gate still barred their way.
Faren's voice cut through the stillness. "We can't stay here."
"We move now," Ruvio agreed, adjusting his grip on his staff. "We cannot wait for Eris and Kaylah to recover here."
Nearby, the two surviving Order scouts stared at the rusted iron bars in horror.
"Why can't we just stay out here? Those catapults can't reach this high," Tomvalt blurted out, backing flat against the rock face. "We are safe on this ridge. That place inside… it's a slaughterhouse."
"You have a choice," Barik said, stepping toward them. His large hand rested heavily on the haft of his broad axe. "Stay out here on this open ridge until your commanders find you hanging from the black vines. Or walk behind us in the dark. With us, you might live."
The scouts swallowed hard, staring at the growling wolves encircling them. They had no weapons, no allies, and nowhere else to go.
Faren looked at the supply wagon, then at the children huddled against Kaylah, and finally at the valley wall below. There was no choice. The light belonged to the enemy; the dark was their only path to return to Haven.
"Barik," Faren ordered, taking charge of the convoy. "Unlock the gate. We have to go back in."
"You two," Barik barked, pointing at the captive scouts. "Grab the chain."
Everyone threw their weight into pulling up the jammed gate.
At their final heave, a frightening hiss raced through the conduit and across the ridge.
The group froze.
The sound was too close to the hiss they had heard in the darkness. Weapons tightened in their hands. The scouts recoiled from the gate, their eyes darting toward the shadows beyond it.
The relief pipe beside the gate erupted.
Steam blasted from its rusted mouth, flooding the ridge in a fresh wave of white. It was never quiet for long. It vented again into the mountain air, feeding the mist that clung stubbornly to the ridge even beneath the midday sun. The thick curtain of fog shrouded everyone huddled before the gate.
With the last heave, the chain-operated roll-up gate finally slid upward, opening just wide enough to haul the cargo through. The hot vapor from the ridge rolled inward, colliding with the cold stagnant air spilling out from the black depths of the conduit.
Leaving the passage unsealed was never an option. The Order held the valley and the ridge; an open tunnel was an invitation to a full sweeping force. Once the soldiers breached the mountainside, the slow-moving wagon would have nowhere left to hide. And the fall of Haven would follow.
A deep, ominous whump echoed from the valley below as the first of the catapult payloads arced through the air.
Through the open threshold, the distant air whistled. Eris's ears tracked a rapid, rising screech and hurtling directly toward their position."They're shelling the gate!" Eris shouted, the warning tearing from his raw throat.
Barik and Faren threw their weight into the manual chains, dragging the iron roll-up gate crashing back down into its floor tracks.
But they weren't safe yet.
Ruvio raised his staff, its light casting long shadows against the damp concrete.
"Let's move."The wheels of the wagon rolled, drawing them deeper into the maw of the mountain.
Before pushing deeper into the dark, Faren called a brief halt to light their torches. As the first sparks caught and bloomed, Leo noticed a grease-slicked lever jutting from a recessed alcove in the wall.
"Elder Faren," Leo whispered, pointing to the mechanism.
Faren halted the convoy.
The lever operated a set of interlocking iron gears, which wound a heavy-linked iron chain around a spindle.
He followed the links with his torch. The chain vanished through a narrow vertical slit in the concrete wall, leading all the way back to a thick, hidden blast door mounted right outside the entry threshold.
"It's a double lock," Faren muttered, his eyes widening as the layout clicked into place.
He gripped the iron handle and threw his full weight into the pull.
The gears groaned in protest as he forced them down, dropping the blast-door gate into place right behind the roll-up gate. Every remaining glimmer of natural daylight vanished. The tunnel became an abyss, swallowing everything beyond the fragile, flickering radius of their torches.
From the shadows came the frantic scuttling of rats, the flapping of unseen wings, and a low hiss. But beneath it all, there was something else—a rasping, slithering groan.
Waiting.
Ruvio stepped beneath the archway. "Keep close."
In groups, the others followed. Behind them, the thick mountain mist swallowed the ridge, erasing the outside world. Ahead, the service conduit waited in total darkness.
The convoy moved at a steady pace. Eris walked at the rear of the wagon. With his vision gone, his other senses fought to compensate. He could hear the shallow gasps of the captive scouts, the steady clatter of iron wheels, and the rustle of the wolves patrolling their flanks. The crushed blue petals offered a soothing cold against his burning eyelids, but the darkness left him unnervingly exposed.
The moment he crossed the threshold into the tunnel, he caught the scent of wet fur and the coppery tang of fresh blood.
Barik turned to the Order scouts, whose faces paled in the gloom. "Stay together. Keep your hands on that wagon. If you drop a torch, you're replacing it with your own arm."
The threat was hardly needed. The scouts' terror kept a tight hold on the wooden frame. One man's hands shook so violently that his flame wavered erratically, casting wild, dancing shadows against the damp concrete walls.
The wolves took point, their growls echoing off the stone. Jag stayed beside Ruvio in the lead, her hackles raised. The four hounds flanked Eris, their nostrils twitching as they filtered the damp air. They picked up the scent of whatever moved in the rafters, but the pack held their ground on Jag's silent order. They wouldn't attack unless Eris commanded it.
The children sat huddled in the wagon, pulled steadily by the black stallion. The mules followed right behind, their iron shoes clattering against the concrete floor, breaking the heavy silence.
Kaylah sat up front, holding Myrah tight against her chest. The little girl had completely gone limp, deep in an unnatural sleep. Her raw, unripened power had drained her completely; anchoring Eris's volatile silver veins had exacted a heavy toll on her small body, leaving her thoroughly exhausted.
Kaylah kept looking back, checking on Eris. She remembered how desperately he had overexerted himself to keep them safe, and she wanted nothing more than to jump down and guide him through the dark tunnel. But Ruvio's earlier warning came back to her mind: Rest. The tunnel will test us all.
They walked at a measured pace, eyes scanning the iron framework above and the floor below. As they advanced, Faren noticed a series of open service ports—circular manholes set into the concrete floor and square utility hatches cut low into the walls.
Faren's jaw tightened. Those openings had been closed when they passed through earlier.
Eris gripped the wagon tighter as a sudden unease twisted in his gut. The scampering of rats joined the clacking of hooves—and then another sound. A faint, rapid scratching of claws against metal. It wasn't coming from the path ahead, nor was it creeping up from behind. It was moving directly beneath the concrete floor.
"The manholes," Eris hissed, the warning catching in his throat. Something was in those ports, tracking them since they crossed the threshold.
Before he could shout a warning to Barik, a ragged scream tore through a side passage.
"Tomvalt! Don't leave us!" a frantic voice shrieked from the dark. The shouting dissolved into a shattered sob as the speakers caught sight of the lead torchlight.
The missing scouts. Three of them were still alive.
Faren and Dara spun toward the side corridor instantly, weapons drawn. Barik barked a harsh command, and the captive scouts thrust their torches forward. The yellowish light revealed three bloodied figures stumbling out from a narrow maintenance tunnel. The first survivor had one arm tied off with a filthy, blood-soaked strip of cloth. The second carried an unlit torch. The third still held a bow, but his quiver was empty.
"Wait. Gods... help us," the wounded man gasped.
But as the last man took another step into the light, a long, dry rasp echoed from the shadows directly above the rushing men—the unmistakable sound of heavy scales dragging across steel cable trays.
Eris went rigid. His mind flashed back to the horrors of the Great Oak. He knew that sound—it was kin to the ancient serpent whose silver essence now coursed through his blood.
He heard the one-armed soldier collapse onto the damp concrete, clawing frantically at the stone floor. "It's above us!" he choked out, his voice breaking with terror. A metallic clatter echoed as a torch hit the floor, scuffling feet scattering the embers before the light snuffed out into darkness.
Blind, Eris couldn't see the threat, but the rustling overhead was clear in his ears, pinpointing its location. The creature was dropping from the ceiling, closing in on the wagon.
"Fall back!" he screamed.
He heard the frantic scuffle of Ruvio running toward them, but Eris knew it would be too late.
"No!" he shouted again.
Or so he thought.
The word tore from him before he could think. He didn't know whether he was calling to his companions, the creature, or simply crying out against what was about to happen. He only wanted everything to stop, his voice raw with urgency.
Above them, the rustling abruptly ceased.
The beast froze.
For one suspended heartbeat, it remained poised above the wagon, its body rigid, its instincts thrown into confusion by something it recognized but could not understand.
Through the fabric of his blindfold, Eris felt a brilliant flash of heat as the tip of Ruvio's staff flared. Overhead, the heavy rasping of scales stuttered, then abruptly retreated into the upper shadows.
A heavy silence fell over the tunnel.
No one spoke. They only knew they were still breathing.
But through the gloom, Ruvio heard the sound that had truly torn from Eris's throat.
It had not been a human cry.
A low, vibrating hiss.
Commanding.
Ancient.
***