Shanny's boots sank into the shattered cobblestones, each shard a testament to the brutal, grinding chaos that had been unleashed. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and dust, every sound a deafening hammer of thunder. Green light spilled from her staff, but it was not merely light—it was a beacon, a defiant emerald shield against the encroaching darkness. A shadow serpent, a swirling nightmare of fanged malice, coiled before her. Its eyes burned with a venomous gold, a hunger that promised to consume all.The monster paid no mind to the heroes fighting in the distance, nor to the chaos erupting in the heart of the town. Its sole purpose was to break the shield, to shatter the hope that Shanny represented.“Stay behind me!” she roared, her voice a clarion call that cut through the cacophony of fear. Mothers clutched children, merchants scrambled for cover, and the boy she had saved from the market chaos pressed close to her leg, his small body a trembling anchor to her resolve.

Sarah’s boots scraped the shattered cobblestones, the sound a sharp, percussive rhythm against the distant thunder of battle. The third shadow serpent lunged, its form a blight made manifest. Its scales shimmered with an unnatural darkness, a living nightmare mirroring the lethal cunning of Beatrix herself. A part of Sarah’s mind, cold and detached, noted its speed—it was faster, more agile than the previous shadows, a testament to the fragment’s rapid adaptation.No hesitation. No mercy. The thought was an instinct, a core tenet of her being.She drew her dagger, the steel flashing like silver lightning, a sharp whisper of promise. "Come on, then," she muttered, her voice a low, deadly growl.The serpent struck first, its tail whipping like a battering ram of solid night. Sarah didn't block; she flowed. She leapt, her body an impossibly graceful arc, rolling beneath the crushing strike. She came up and struck at its soft underbelly. Sparks erupted where blade met shadow, a hiss of dy

Indhabhire stood at the very center of the maelstrom, a perfect stillness in the eye of the storm. Her eyes glowed with a pure, cold white light, and the wind—a living, shrieking chorus of razors—snapped around her. Beside her, Emrys traced sigils in the air, his amber eyes two points of unblinking calculation, scanning for the slightest opening. Above them, Beatrix Malunda loomed, a coiling mountain of malevolent power. Her golden eyes burned with a self-satisfied malice, and her scales were etched with ancient, writhing runes that pulsed with a dark, primal energy.“You cannot hold me,” Beatrix hissed, her voice booming like rolling thunder, shaking the very bones of the town. “I am the night, the shadow, the storm. Your magic is dust before me.”“Not today,” Indhabhire replied, her voice a frigid whisper against the gale. Her hands, graceful and precise, wove intricate patterns through the air. The wind answered her call, sharpening into jagged blades of ice and stone. Each motion

The sun rose fully over the town, its golden light an almost unbearable contrast to the shattered landscape below. It gilded the broken cobblestones and the splintered remnants of the market square. Smoke, thick with the scent of burning wood and ozone, still curled from broken stalls, and shards of stone glittered like cold fire in the morning light. A profound, heavy silence had replaced the night’s thunder.The townsfolk emerged cautiously from their homes, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear. Some knelt, others whispered prayers, but all knew that something extraordinary had passed through their streets. They looked at the heroes not with gratitude, but with a bewildered terror, as if they themselves were now a part of the storm that had broken over their town.Victor sat on the edge of the shattered fountain, white fire flickering faintly along his arms like dying embers. His body ached, a deep, bone-weary protest, but his heart felt heavier than he had ever known. Around hi

The night air was sharp and cold as Victor led the team toward the forest on the town’s outskirts. The moonlight, usually a welcome beacon, felt thin and distant, swallowed by the gloom beneath the treeline. Broken branches and scorched earth marked the path where Beatrix’s shadows had briefly touched weeks ago, a violent memory of their last battle. But now, a deeper, more insidious presence lingered. The air was unnaturally still, the wind silent, as if the forest itself were holding its breath.Shanny’s staff glowed a faint green, casting a wavering light that illuminated the trail, but did little to pierce the dense shadows around them. “I don’t like this,” she said quietly, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s not just shadows anymore. It feels… alive, and intelligent. It’s like the forest is listening to us.”Victor nodded, his own white flame flickering softly along his arms, a small, persistent warmth against the cold dread that settled over them. “Quiet doesn’t mean safe,” he mu