The howling winds of Frostveil carried the scent of burning wood and the distant clang of metal on metal. The village was in turmoil. Skellith's forces had entrenched themselves within, and Nikos, Zara, Ali, and their new ally, Vaelin, had little time to act before the chaos escalated further.
Vaelin, the warrior from Voltaris, stood beside them, his crackling spear of storm-forged energy humming with restrained power. His piercing silver eyes scanned the burning village, reading the battlefield like an open book.
"We strike swiftly," Vaelin said. "If we linger, we give them time to regroup. We need to sever their command structure before reinforcements arrive."
Zara nodded. "The main force is concentrated near the central stronghold. That's where they're holding the last of Frostveil's defenders."
Ali flicked his tail, his golden eyes glinting in the firelight. "Sounds simple enough. We go in, make a lot of noise, and take out the head of the snake."
"Not just noise," Nikos corrected, tightening his grip on his blade. "Precision. We cut straight to the heart."
Vaelin smirked. "Aetherborn, huh? I've heard stories about your kind. Let's see if you live up to them."
The four of them moved like shadows through the ruined streets of Frostveil, dodging patrols and slipping between smoldering buildings. The enemy was everywhere, armored brutes bearing Skellith's insignia, their eyes glowing with unnatural malice. The corruption of Tenebris ran deep in them.
Near the center of the village, they spotted the prisoners—Frostveil's last warriors, bound and kneeling beneath the cold gaze of Skellith's lieutenant, a towering figure in darkened steel. His face was hidden behind a horned helm, his weapon—a cruel, serrated glaive—resting against his shoulder.
Zara exhaled sharply. "That's Varok. One of Skellith's chosen."
Nikos could feel the weight of Varok's presence, like a storm waiting to break. This battle wouldn't be easy.
Vaelin raised his spear. "Then let's clip his wings."
Before another word could be said, they struck. Nikos moved first, a blur of steel as he slashed through the nearest guard. Ali leaped onto another, his fangs flashing as he tore through the enemy's throat. Zara's twin daggers carved through the air like streaks of silver, each strike landing with deadly precision.
Vaelin, however, was like the storm itself. His spear crackled with Voltarian fury as he struck down warriors with arcs of lightning, his movements fluid and unrelenting. He fought as if he was born for battle.
Varok turned at last, his glowing eyes locking onto them. With a slow, deliberate movement, he raised his glaive and pointed it at Nikos. "Aetherborn," he rumbled, his voice like grinding stone. "Your kind was meant to die long ago."
Nikos met his gaze without flinching. "Then come and kill me."
Varok charged, the air splitting with the force of his attack. Nikos braced himself. This would be his greatest test yet.
The storm had truly begun.