“Fallback, fallback!” The shout echoed through the chaos of Oasis Cavern. Jazz turned toward the source and spotted Zar’iel, his blade glinting like a shard of sunlight cutting through the gloom. Beside him were S’jarre, his imposing form exuding calm authority, and D’raen, his movements sharp and calculated like a predator on the hunt. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with.
The trio surged forward to the breached wall, a jagged gap where the stone had crumbled. Blood-red eyes and slavering maws of the hounds contrasted against the eerie, distorted visages of the corrupted Mal’aks. The air reeked of sulfur and decay, but Zar’iel, S’jarre, and D’raen stood resolute, their determination palpable.
S’jarre raised his longbow and, with practiced ease, notched an arrow. He let it fly, the projectile striking its mark with deadly precision. “We hold the line here! Others are falling back to the tunnels!” he declared.
D’raen gripped his axe, its weight a perfect match for his strength, while Zar’iel’s sword blazed like a beacon of hope. They took their positions, shoulder to shoulder, and faced the oncoming horde.
The first wave came like a tide of nightmares. Gore hounds charged forward, their claws scrabbling against the broken stone, while corrupted Mal’aks loomed behind them, their twisted limbs brimming with unnatural strength. Zar’iel met them head-on, his blade carving through the hounds with practiced precision. Beside him, D’raen swung his axe in powerful arcs, each strike cleaving through the monstrous creatures with ease. S’jarre rained arrows upon the advancing horde, each shot a lethal blow that thinned their numbers before they could close the distance.
Their coordination was seamless. Zar’iel’s steady leadership kept their movements synchronized, while S’jarre’s precise archery created opportunities that D’raen exploited with devastating power. As one enemy fell, another took its place, but the trio moved like a well-oiled machine, covering each other’s flanks and countering every attack with lethal efficiency.
“Incoming!” D’raen called, spotting a particularly large gore hound leaping toward Zar’iel. Without hesitation, S’jarre pivoted, loosing an arrow that struck the beast midair, sending it crashing to the ground. Before the corpse hit the ground, D’raen was already lunging at a corrupted Mal’ak attempting to slip through the gap, his axe burying itself in its chest with a sickening crunch.
Wave after wave, the enemies came, but none could breach the trio’s defense. The ground at their feet became slick with dark ichor, the air thick with the acrid stench of death. Yet, Zar’iel, S’jarre, and D’raen held firm.
Another shout rang out above the chaos, cutting through the cacophony of battle. “Fallback to the tunnels, Jazz!” The voice was unmistakable. Jazz turned and saw Enn’ary standing amidst the tumult, his stance firm despite the carnage around him. Beside him was Keilee, her nunchucks in hand, pulsing faintly with latent energy. Surrounding them were a group of Mal’aks, their expressions steely as they held the line.
Enn’ary gestured urgently toward the tunnels carved into the rock, his voice carrying over the roar of the battle. Jazz hesitated for a brief moment, glancing back at the breach where Zar’iel, S’jarre, and D’raen continued their relentless defense. Then he nodded, trusting that the trio could hold the wall.
Together, they led the group into the tunnels, the dimly lit passageways echoing with the distant sounds of the fight. Jazz glanced back one last time, hoping the line would hold long enough for them to regroup deeper within the cavern.
* * *
Zar’iel, S’jarre, and D’raen stood at the breach, their faces set with grim determination. They were the last line, holding the charging corrupted Mal’aks and gore hounds at bay while the others retreated. With a final, coordinated attack—a surge of arrows from S’jarre’s longbow, D’raen’s axe cleaving through the enemies, and Zar’iel’s powerful strikes—they bought themselves a moment of reprieve.
The tunnel stretched long and narrow, carved deep into the stone by ancient hands. Its path twisted and turned, illuminated by faintly glowing moss clinging to the walls. As the echoes of battle faded behind them, the oppressive weight of the underground passage pressed down on the group. Yet, the tunnel served its purpose—it was their lifeline, providing a hidden route that led out of Oasis Cavern.
Ahead of them, the citizens of Oasis Cavern moved in hurried groups, clutching their belongings and guiding the young and elderly. They had been the first to enter the tunnels, shepherded to safety as the battle above raged. The warriors now followed, ensuring no one was left behind.
But the corrupted Mal’aks were relentless. Their pursuit continued as they managed to break the seal of the tunnel, the sound of claws scraping against stone and guttural roars growing louder with every step. The narrow confines of the tunnel, however, worked to the defenders’ advantage. The corrupted could only advance in smaller numbers, and the Mal’ak leaders used this to their benefit.
“Block them here!” Zar’iel ordered as they reached a chokepoint. S’jarre notched arrow after arrow, each finding its target with lethal precision, while D’raen’s axe swung in wide arcs, carving through the corrupted that managed to break through. They set rudimentary traps—collapsing loose sections of the tunnel and leaving obstacles to slow their enemies.
The chase stretched on for hours, the defenders taking turns holding the line while the others guided the citizens deeper into the tunnel. Exhaustion gnawed at their edges, but they pressed on, knowing that to falter meant doom for everyone.
Finally, as the faint light of dusk gave way to night, they reached the tunnel’s end. A hidden exit led them into a rocky expanse beneath the stars, safely distant from the corrupted Mal’aks—at least for now. The defenders emerged one by one, their breaths ragged but their spirits unbroken.
Zar’iel looked back toward the tunnel, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade. “Seal it,” he said firmly. With one final effort, they collapsed the tunnel entrance, the rumble of falling stone cutting off the sound of their pursuers.
The rocky expanse beneath the stars was vast and quiet, but the air was heavy with worry and exhaustion. Mal’aks huddled together, scanning the faces around them for loved ones and friends. Murmurs of relief and anxious cries filled the night as families reunited or called out names, searching desperately for those still unaccounted for.
Through the crowd, Jazz caught sight of Leeland, Keilee, and Gabe. Relief washed over him as he made his way toward them. The four exchanged weary nods, their eyes reflecting the shared understanding of everything they had endured. Soon after, another familiar face appeared—Kenzie. He stumbled toward them, his expression a mixture of desperation and hope.
“Have you seen Kellan?” Kenzie asked urgently.
“Kellan was still with us when the wall was breached,” Keilee said. “That’s the last time I saw him.”
“How did the corrupted Mal’aks manage to break the wall?” Jazz inquired.
“It was At’tar,” Kenzie replied grimly. “I saw him in the midst of the black army.”
“That explains it,” came a voice from behind them. They turned to see Enn’ary stepping forward.
“At’tar can break thick walls?” Leeland asked, his brow furrowed in disbelief.
“Jazz might have noticed how strong Zar’iel is during the battle,” Enn’ary said. “But combine all of us—the leaders of the Mal’ak communities—and you’ll have At’tar.”
The group fell into a heavy silence, around them, others continued to search and call out, their voices a haunting reminder of how many were still unaccounted for.
* * *
The once tranquil expanse surrounding the Oasis Caverns, was now a scene of utter devastation. What had once been lush greenery and serene pools of water was now scorched earth, the ground blackened and cracked from the corruption that seeped into it. The remnants of the tall, sturdy walls that had once protected this sacred space lay scattered, reduced to jagged rubble. Fires burned in isolated patches, their flickering light casting long, ominous shadows across the ruined terrain.
At the center of the chaos, seated on a pile of jagged rocks formed from the collapsed walls, was At’tar. His dark-gray skin and stark white hair stood in sharp contrast to the desolation around him, his piercing green eyes surveying the scene with an unsettling calm. His posture was deceptively relaxed, arms crossed over his chest as if he were a lord surveying his conquered domain.
His gaze moved slowly across the ruined Oasis, sharp and calculating, like a predator assessing its territory. Around him, corrupted Mal’aks moved with unease, their once-feral aggression tempered by the weight of his aura. Ka’reth one of his commanders approached cautiously, its hulking form lowering itself into a submissive crouch as it neared.
“My lord, it is confirmed—the citizens of Oasis Cavern escaped through the winding tunnels,” Ka’reth reported, bowing slightly. “It appears they exited far north, across the river, and managed to block the exit. Our soldiers are still attempting to breach it.”
At’tar uncrossed his arms and rose from his seat atop the jagged pile of rocks with a slow, deliberate motion. His imposing figure seemed to grow even larger, his piercing green eyes narrowing as they fixed on Ka’reth. A wave of quiet disappointment radiated from him.
“Don’t tell me you’re about to ask me to breach it for you,” At’tar said, his voice calm yet carrying a sharp edge that cut through the tension like a blade.
Ka’reth flinched, his head bowing lower as he took a step back. “No, my lord,” he replied hastily, his tone filled with both apology and determination. “I will see to it that the soldiers breach it as soon as possible. You need not trouble yourself with such matters.”
At’tar’s gaze lingered on Ka’reth for a moment, unblinking, before his sharp eyes shifted, scanning the surrounding ruins as if sensing something out of place. His expression hardened, his piercing green eyes narrowing slightly.
Ka’reth hesitated, his brow furrowing as he glanced around, unsure of what had drawn At’tar’s attention. “Is something wrong, my lord?” he asked cautiously.
At’tar didn’t respond. Instead, with a sudden burst of movement, he vanished, his form blurring into the air with uncanny speed. Ka’reth’s eyes widened as the Mal’ak lord reappeared about twelve feet away, his arm outstretched as if snatching something invisible from the air.
The moment hung in eerie stillness before the figure of a young man materialized in At’tar’s iron grip. It was Kellan. At’tar’s hand was wrapped firmly around his neck, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. Kellan struggled, his eyes wide with shock and fear as he grasped at the hand holding him.
As Kellan struggled, a dagger slipped from his grasp, clattering loudly against the stone floor. The sound echoed through the ruins, drawing Ka’reth’s attention to the weapon. His eyes darted from the blade to Kellan, realization dawning on him as he understood the young man’s intent.
“At’tar!” Ka’reth exclaimed, stepping forward cautiously, unsure of whether to intervene.
“Are you trying to kill me, Kellan?” At’tar inquired mockingly, his voice laced with disdain. His grip on the young man’s neck remained firm, lifting him effortlessly. “Since when did you switch sides?”
For a brief moment, At’tar’s piercing green eyes flickered as a memory resurfaced—a different human once held in his grasp–Kenzie. He remembered the sharp sting of interruption, the light that had struck him like a hammer.
“You and Kenzie were freed by Al’aric, weren’t you?” At’tar’s voice grew quieter, tinged with curiosity and disdain, his gaze scrutinizing Kellan’s every reaction.
A slow, chilling smile spread across At’tar’s face as realization dawned on him. “So my assumption is right,” he said, his tone almost amused. “Al’aric gave his light to redeem humans. How quaint.”
His smile widened as a low, rumbling laugh escaped him. “So the border vanished because of you and Kenzie,” he said, his voice echoing with cruel amusement. “After all, it seems you and Kenzie still had a purpose for me.”
The mirth drained from At’tar’s face in an instant, his smile vanishing like a flame snuffed out. His expression turned cold, his voice dropping into a lethal growl. “But no longer.”
In a split second, a dark blade metal materialized in At’tar’s free hand. With unnatural speed, he thrust the sword forward, aiming directly at Kellan’s chest, the air around them seeming to ripple with the force of his strike.
At’tar’s grip loosened, and with a sudden, brutal motion, he slammed Kellan down onto the ground. The young man’s body struck the stone with a sickening thud, the force of the impact leaving him gasping for air. Kellan writhed in pain, yet to At’tar’s surprise, there was no fear in his expression.
Instead, Kellan smiled. A faint, defiant smile that only deepened the amusement in At’tar’s eyes. The young man coughed weakly, his breath shallow, but his gaze remained locked on the corrupted Mal’ak lord. Summoning the last of his strength, Kellan whispered, “Al’aric will be back.”
At’tar’s amusement vanished as quickly as it had come. His jaw tightened, and his piercing green eyes burned with fury. Slowly, he clenched his fist, his fingers digging into his palm with such force.
For a moment, At’tar stood there, looming over Kellan’s broken form, his expression a storm of wrath and disdain.
* * *
The group had traveled far from the tunnel’s exit, the rocky terrain stretching out before them. It had been hours since they emerged, their steps hurried and their eyes constantly scanning the horizon, searching for any sign of the corrupted Mal’aks that might have breached the tunnels and taken up pursuit. Anxiety clung to the air as they paused momentarily, their breaths heavy, ears straining for distant sounds of danger.
Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled. At first, it was a faint vibration, but it grew stronger, shaking violently as loose stones tumbled.
“Look behind you!” Enn’ary’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
The group turned as one, their gazes locking on the direction of the tunnels they had fled hours earlier. In the distance, the ground seemed to glow faintly, a soft, ethereal light beginning to rise and pulse like a heartbeat. It stretched wide, its glow forming a massive ring that extended far across the horizon. From their elevated position, the group could see the luminous formation wrapping around a vast expanse of land, encompassing the area across the river, beyond the Oasis Cavern, and far into the distance.
The light grew brighter, its intensity building with each pulse, until suddenly, it erupted. A brilliant blast of energy surged upward, ripping through the air as the ground shook even more violently. The blast shot skyward, its radiance piercing the darkening sky, illuminating the terrain below with blinding brilliance.
For a moment, the group stood frozen, shielding their eyes against the dazzling light. Then the realization struck. The pattern, the scale, the purpose—it was unmistakable. The light was reshaping itself, reweaving the boundaries of the Negative Harmony. At’tar and the corrupted Mal’aks were being sealed away, confined once again within the borders of their prison.
“Al’aric…” Enn’ary breathed, his voice trembling, not with fear, but with awe. A smile spread across his lips, wide and filled with hope.
“It’s been three days,” he continued, his tone soft but resolute, as if he had been counting each hour with unwavering faith.
“Just as he promised,” came a voice from behind. S’jarre stepped forward, his expression calm but tinged with relief. He gazed at the light in the distance, the faintest hint of admiration in his eyes.
The group stood together, watching as the boundary took shape, a testament to Al’aric’s power and his vow to protect them. Hope surged through their hearts, the light a beacon not only of confinement for their enemy but of their own salvation.
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