William, Wyll, and Shadowheart dashed through the gate leading to the secondary beach, their footsteps the only sound aside from the rush of a nearby river slicing through the woods like a blade of water.
They navigated a narrow canyon, emerging onto a wide yet rugged shoreline where jagged boulders jutted across the rocky expanse, lending the place a stark beauty but making it inhospitable for rest.
Suddenly, a long, melodic cry drifted through the air, "AAAAAHHHHHHHH…" its strangely soothing tone washing over them and enveloping their minds with warmth.
The three halted briefly, caught in the ethereal pull of the sound, but pressed on with purpose, acutely aware that at any moment a lost child might slip beyond rescue and into the maw of some beast.
William clenched his teeth, the grinding of his molars serving as a small distraction from the hauntingly beautiful voice reverberating through the air.
It felt as though something sought to infiltrate his thoughts, probing with gentle yet insistent fingers, like a beast clawing frantically at the walls of his mind.
Wyll, though momentarily unsettled by the melody, managed to resist its pull by reluctantly drawing on the power granted by his patron, the snarl twisting his features at her call, offering the only outward sign of his inner turmoil.
Shadowheart's eyes transformed into fathomless pools of darkness as she invoked the divine essence of Shar, her connection to the goddess fortifying her will and greatly aiding her resistance against the voice, which only swelled in intensity as they drew nearer.
"HAAAHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAA..." The singing swelled in volume until the trio spotted a feathered creature perched upon a high vantage point, its gaze fixed intently on something still hidden from their view.
Moving with deliberate quiet, they took care not to startle the unusual being as they crept closer, intent on discovering the source of its focus.
Slipping past the final massive boulder that had concealed them from the creature's sight, they finally beheld a young Tiefling, himself ensnared by the haunting melody.
The song echoed relentlessly around them, rebounding off unseen surfaces, creating the uncanny illusion that it emanated from every direction at once.
A second feathered creature emerged from the opposite side, its distinctly feminine facial features becoming visible. "Harpies, blast them! They will not take this child!"
Wyll strode forward with charismatic poise, brandishing his rapier toward the harpy perched on the rocky outcropping.
His eyes began to glow a soft red as he drew upon the power of his patron, unleashing a potent Eldritch Blast from his free hand.
The magical force struck the unusually feminine harpy square in the head, silencing its cursed song instantly as its skull collided violently with the adjacent cliff face.
[Critical hit!]
A faint prompt appeared above Wyll in William's vision, prompting a moment of confusion before he cursed Wyll's lack of caution and immediately began casting a spell.
It was a cantrip, enhanced by the Metamagic [Twinned Spell] at the cost of a single sorcery point.
Flames erupted from William's hands as he drew upon the ambient magic in the surroundings, shaping it into blazing orbs that radiated intense heat, warping the air around him. "FIRE BOLT!" he bellowed, thrusting his hands forward.
The scorching bolts of concentrated energy streaked toward the two harpies, one of which, already struck by Wyll's eldritch blast, was engulfed in searing flames.
Its feathers disintegrated into drifting ash as the creature let out a piercing cry. "AAAAAHHHHHHHH!" The scream, unmistakably feminine and starkly different from its previous melodic song, tore through the air, sending invasive sound waves that penetrated William and Wyll's defenses, causing them both to stagger in place.
Flames still clung to the jagged rocks when the second harpy burst forth, tearing itself from the inferno in a violent eruption.
Charred feathers curled and blackened, and its flesh glowed faintly where the fire had seared too deeply.
Beating its wings with furious strength, it scattered embers like dying stars across the air, talons extended and hooked with lethal purpose as it drove straight toward William.
Its shriek split the sky, raw and feral, stripped of any lingering melody and steeped entirely in hatred.
William barely managed to lift his guard before a sudden streak of fire cut across his vision.
The flaming bolt struck the harpy square in the chest, not his magic.
The force folded the creature mid-flight, flames surging outward as its last remnants of grace burned away.
It struck the stone with a wet, conclusive impact, collapsing into a smoldering heap of scorched bone and blackened feathers.
The sudden silence pressed in, heavy and absolute.
William spun to see Shadowheart standing several paces behind, her stance calm and deliberate, one hand still raised.
Wisps of residual flame curled lazily around her fingers as she exhaled, the last traces of heat dissipating from her palm like the breath extinguishing a candle.
Straightening, her gaze snapped beyond the fallen harpy.
"Mirkon," she called sharply.
The spell's grasp broke apart in an instant.
The young Tiefling lurched forward as though emerging from a deep nightmare, his eyes wide and unfocused until recognition struck like a blow. His breath caught, then collapsed entirely as terror found its voice at last.
He bolted, small hooves skittering against the stone as he charged toward them, tears flowing freely, each sob tearing through him in ragged, helpless bursts.
Shadowheart reacted without thought, dropping to one knee just in time to gather him into her arms.
The child collided with her, trembling violently, his cries muffled against her armor and cloak, small hands clinging to her as though she were the sole tether holding him to the world.
For a single heartbeat, all within her went still, before agony erupted in her hand. It struck sharp and unyielding, a searing current racing up her arm like molten wire beneath her skin.
Her fingers convulsed as dark energy flared briefly around her knuckles, only to vanish as quickly as it came.
It was Shar's warning, her disdain for warmth, protection, and comfort, things the goddess could not abide.
Shadowheart stifled a gasp, her jaw tightening as the pain surged once more, sharper and more merciless, punishing her for a tenderness she had never chosen.
Her hand trembled, but she willed it still, forcing control over the betraying motion.
Instead, she drew the child closer, shielding him from the world that had just tried to claim him.
Mirkon clung desperately, burying his sobs into her chest, his small frame shuddering as the final haunting echoes of the harpies' song dissolved into the windswept cliffs.
She lowered her chin to rest gently against his horned brow, her breath even and measured, eyes locked forward as the gnawing agony tore at her nerves like something alive.
She would not release him.
Behind her, William observed in silence, the battlefield's heat fading into stillness, white feathers drifting down like snow dusted with ash.
There was no suspicion in his gaze this time, only a quiet, unspoken recognition.
Wyll lowered his blade, the tension in his shoulders loosening as the threat ebbed away, his expression softening at the sight before him.
Shadowheart spoke no words.
She only held the child, and she held him fast.
The air ruptured with a concussive force as four additional harpies burst from the clouds above the cliffs, their wings beating powerfully enough to scatter loose feathers and grit into spiraling currents.
They wheeled high in the sky before plunging downward, their voices merging into a warped unison that blended song and shriek into an unbearable cacophony.
It was not beauty they wove; it was raw, crushing force.
The sound struck like a tangible blow, the fractured melody layering upon itself until it became an all-encompassing, mind-raking chorus.
William staggered under the assault, jaw clenched in aching defiance.
Wyll dropped to one knee, the tip of his rapier scraping across stone as his vision swam, his patron's power flickering in protest yet offering no immediate reprieve.
Shadowheart hissed sharply, the piercing resonance cutting through her defenses; her knees faltered for a breath as her hold on Mirkon tightened, her thoughts splintering under the strain.
Even the cold sanctuary of Shar could not fully shield her.
This was not seduction, it was obliteration by sound.
The harpies descended, mouths agape, throats faintly aglow as the song swelled to its peak, pressing inevitability into the space between heartbeats.
William's vision flared, royal purple light flooding his eyes as the world snapped into razor clarity, driven by something ancient and unyielding surging from within.
The noise persisted, yet slowed, as though dragged through thick syrup.
With a single sorcery point remaining, he committed it without hesitation.
"PRESTIDIGITATION!" William's voice cut through the storm, sharp and commanding, as he snapped his wrist and twisted his fingers with the precision of long-honed skill.
Magic burst forth, not with flames or brute force, but with pure, unyielding control, unraveling reality at its most delicate threads. In the air above, the harpies convulsed violently.
Their tongues writhed and contorted in unnatural spasms, muscles knotting as if gripped by unseen hands.
One let out a startled cry that warped into a wet, strangled croak, while another clawed frantically at her mouth, panic widening her eyes as her once-enchanting song collapsed into choking silence.
The harmony was obliterated.
What had moments before been a synchronized, magical assault dissolved into chaotic screeches and frantic wingbeats, their vocal magic broken, splintered, and destroyed.
The crushing pressure in the air vanished in an instant, like a string snapping under strain.
Wyll inhaled sharply, strength surging back into his body as he leapt to his feet, eyes alight with renewed fury.
Shadowheart's vision cleared, and she tightened her grip on Mirkon, her expression set with unshakable resolve.
At the epicenter stood William, arm still outstretched, fingers curled as the last traces of the spell faded into the howling wind.
The harpies now wheeled erratically, wounded and voiceless, their menace gone.
They were no longer predators, they were quarry. "Now," William commanded, his tone low and forged of rough iron.
The harpies that still commanded the skies made no attempt to repair what William had destroyed.
Instead, they screamed, unleashing sound in layered waves, no longer a song but a weaponized force, the very air folding and collapsing as invisible crescents of pressure sliced forward.
William had only moments to respond.
"Move!" he barked, already in motion.
He dove behind a jagged outcrop just as the sonic blast struck, the cliff exploding with a deafening crack as rock sheared inward by several inches, carved as though by an unseen blade.
Dust and debris burst outward, the shockwave pressing him flat to the ground before rolling past in a shrieking echo that rattled his skull.
The stone had spared him.
Wyll was less fortunate.
The blast caught him mid-stride, hurling him from his feet like a thrown spear.
He skimmed across the river's surface at unnatural speed, boots skipping and slicing white streaks into the water before slamming back-first into the cliff wall with a sickening crunch.
The Blade of Frontiers slid down the rock, gasping, his sword slipping from numb fingers as water cascaded around him.
Shadowheart moved without thought, planting her feet, angling her shield, and positioning herself between the oncoming wave and the small figure clutching her waist.
The impact struck like a divine hammer, her shield shrieking under the force as holy sigils flared, resisting the power that sought to drive through her bones.
Mirkon whimpered, burying his face against her armor, his tiny hands gripping her belt as his body trembled violently.
Shadowheart hissed through clenched teeth, not from the blow, but from the searing pain that flared in its wake.
It struck her instantly, sharp and merciless, racing through her nerves like shards of ice and fire entwined.
The blessing of Shar recoiled violently at the sudden warmth swelling in her chest, at the instinct to shield, to hold, to comfort. Such tenderness was an affront to the goddess.
Agony speared up her arm, down her spine, and into the hand pressed protectively against the child's back.
Her vision wavered, her knees threatened to give way, but still she refused to lower her shield.
"Stay… behind me," she rasped, her voice taut with strain, one arm braced against the assault while the other instinctively tightened around Mirkon, every motion amplifying the pain burning through her.
The sonic wave crashed against them, shattering earth and flinging water into the air, yet it failed to drive her back even an inch.
Behind the splintered stone, William dragged himself upright, blood streaking from his ear as his gaze rose to the sky.
Above, harpies wheeled through smoke and firelight, wings hammering the air, throats swelling for another scream.
His pupils dilated, royal purple bleeding into the whites, and his voice cut through the chaos, low, cold, and edged with lethal resolve. "Enough."
William did not raise his voice. Instead, he poured himself into the spell, eyes blazing with a deep royal purple as the incantation slithered from his mind like something sentient.
A whisper, sharp and unnervingly intimate, slipped into the air, Dissonant Whispers.
The magic did not thunder; it infiltrated the very mind.
The nearest harpy shrieked as the psychic assault ravaged her thoughts, her wings convulsing violently while terror consumed instinct.
Whatever visions William had conjured shattered the fragile predatory confidence she possessed.
She wheeled mid-air, talons scraping desperately at nothing, and fled, not upward, not outward, but directly into stone.
Her body struck the cliff face with a bone-cracking impact, feathers bursting outward in a violent halo as she clawed frantically at the rock in blind panic.
The collision destroyed both her momentum and her sanity, leaving her trembling against the stone, soft whimpers escaping as she slid limply downward, fear still echoing inside her mind long after her body failed her.
William exhaled slowly, a thin trail of blood seeping from his ear to darken the rock beneath his boots. Then, the final harpy attacked.
She descended like a living missile, wings folded tight as she slammed full-force into Shadowheart's raised shield.
The impact thundered like a siege hammer, hurling Shadowheart backward across the stone in a harsh, grinding slide, her boots carving pale streaks into the ground as every muscle shrieked in protest.
Mirkon let out a desperate cry, clutching her all the tighter.
Through clenched teeth, Shadowheart snarled, agony blazing white-hot down her arm as Shar's punishment surged again, wrathful at the defiance, at the warmth, at the act of protection.
She halted herself mere inches from collapse. With a fierce shout, she drove forward instead.
Her shield swept up in a savage arc, colliding with the harpy's face in a wet, bone-cracking smash.
The creature's head snapped back violently, neck bending at a sickening angle as feathers burst away like torn parchment.
That recoil carried her straight into Wyll's poised strike.
The Blade of Frontiers seized the moment without hesitation, bracing firm with both hands gripping his rapier as he delivered the thrust with flawless precision.
Steel pierced the back of the harpy's neck, ripping through flesh, sinew, and spine until the gleaming tip emerged between her lips, slick and glistening ruby red.
For a heartbeat frozen in time, the creature locked eyes with him. Hatred blazed there, undercut by the fleeting glimmer of surprise.
Whatever curse she had been about to unleash died unspoken, strangled into silence.
Wyll roared anyway, a fierce, defiant cry ripped from deep within, as he twisted his blade and carved it sideways in a savage, final arc.
Steel bit through bone.
The harpy's head sheared clean from her shoulders in one decisive stroke, tumbling end over end before striking the stone with a dull, irrevocable thud.
Her body crumpled moments later, wings folding inward like discarded, lifeless cloaks.
The cliffs were quiet again.
Feathers swirled down through smoke and dust, each catching the light as they descended.
Shadowheart finally lowered her shield, breath ragged, pain searing through her limbs as she tightened her hold on Mirkon, who clung to her with trembling relief.
Wyll stood over the fallen foe, chest rising and falling, crimson dripping from his blade as he exhaled and let it fall to his side.
William straightened slowly, the violet glow fading from his eyes as the lingering echoes of psychic terror dissolved into the wind.
The harpies lay slain. And this time, the silence endured, only the sound of Mirkon sobbing cutting through.