The scent of roasted spices and honey-glazed meats wafted through the air, mingling with the melodic tones of wooden flutes and the rhythmic beating of drums. Lanterns swayed on strings stretched between wooden houses, their warm glow casting dancing shadows across the packed earth of Agnidvara Village. The Harvest Festival had transformed the usually practical settlement into a vibrant tapestry of color and sound.
Kaal perched atop a wooden barrel near the eastern edge of the festivities, his small black form almost invisible in the shadows. From this vantage point, he could observe the entire celebration while remaining largely unnoticed—exactly how he preferred it.
"Hiding again?" Veer's voice came from behind, tinged with amusement. The tall youth settled beside Kaal's barrel, his white hair gleaming in the lantern light, amber eyes reflecting tiny flames.
"Observing," Kaal corrected, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Old habits."
Veer chuckled. "You're missing quite a feast. The Tuskwood orcs brought their fermented berry wine, and the Khazak-Dûm dwarves have set up a roasting pit with spices I've never smelled before."
Despite himself, Kaal found his attention drawn to the center of the village where the celebrations were in full swing. He'd never seen such a harmonious gathering of races that, according to Veer, often maintained uneasy relations.
Green-skinned orcs from Tuskwood laughed heartily as they arm-wrestled with stout dwarves, their massive tusks gleaming in the firelight. Nearby—elegant elves from Silverleaf performed graceful dances, their movements accentuated by subtle pulses of natural Urza energy that left trails of soft light in the air.
Most surprising were the goblins—creatures Kaal had initially dismissed as primitive. Four distinct tribes mingled throughout the festival, each instantly recognizable by their markings and dress. The Treejumpers wore bark-cloth vests adorned with colorful feathers. Bogfoot goblins carried pouches of fragrant lotus petals that they occasionally tossed into fires, creating bursts of blue flame. The gem-studded garments of the Deepdelvers glittered in the firelight, while the Mossback tribe's green-tinged skin seemed to shimmer with its own inner light.
"The peace of the Festival is sacred," Veer explained, following Kaal's gaze. "Every five years, all grudges are suspended for 3 days. Even the Stormclaw orcs honor it, though they keep mostly to themselves."
As if to illustrate this point, Kaal noticed a group of grey-skinned orcs standing apart from the main celebration, their bodies covered in ritual scars that formed intricate patterns. They watched the festivities with stern expressions but made no move to disrupt them.
"Gua-rlian! Guardian!" A small voice called out, drawing both their attentions. A young goblin child from the Mossback tribe dodged through the crowd, clutching something in her tiny green hands. She skidded to a stop before them, eyes widening momentarily at the sight of Kaal before breaking into a gap-toothed smile.
"For the Guardian and his furry friend," she announced proudly, holding out two small objects. In one palm lay a smooth river stone with a natural hole through its center, threaded with a simple twine. In the other was a small bundle of dried moss tied with a strand of copper wire.
Veer knelt to accept the stone, placing it around his neck with ceremonial solemnity. "A seeing stone from the Mossbacks is a powerful gift," he said. "I am honored."
The child turned expectantly to Kaal, still holding out the moss bundle. After a moment's hesitation, he extended a small paw and accepted it.
"It protects against bad dreams," she explained seriously. "Mother says even monsters have nightmares."
Kaal felt an unexpected tightness in his chest widening his alreadybig eyes."Thank you," he managed, his normally gravelly voice softened.
The child beamed before dashing back into the crowd. Kaal carefully tucked the charm into the small pouch Veer had fashioned for him weeks ago.
"You've made an impression," Veer observed with a smile.
"Hmph." Kaal hopped down from the barrel. "Let's get closer to the center. I want to see this Eternal Flame everyone keeps talking about."
They made their way through the celebration, Veer occasionally stopping to greet villagers or accept small tokens from children. The atmosphere grew more charged as they approached the village center, where the Eternal Flame burned atop a massive stone hearth. The structure was elaborately carved with seven distinct symbols that looked like chakras.
The flame itself was unlike any fire Kaal had seen—larger than should be possible without more fuel, and burning with a steady golden light that seemed to pulse gently, like a heartbeat. Around its base, offerings of various kinds had been placed: small carved figurines, bundles of herbs, polished stones, and bowls of grain.
Veer approached the flame and knelt before it, closing his eyes in silent prayer.
The fire seemed to respond to his presence, brightening slightly. Kaal watched, fascinated, as tiny tendrils of the flame appeared to reach toward Veer, like fingers stretching to make contact.
Something about the scene stirred memories in Kaal—not from his human life, but something older, more primal. He shook his head, trying to clear the strange sensation.
"Each settlement brings a torch to light from the Eternal Flame," Veer explained as he rejoined Kaal. "They carry it back to sustain their own hearths until the next festival. It's said to bring five years of protection and prosperity."
Kaal was about to respond when the flame suddenly flickered—not the gentle dance of normal fire, but a violent dip that momentarily plunged the area into darkness before flaring back to life. A collective gasp rose from those nearest the hearth.
"That's... unusual," Veer murmured, his expression troubled.
A cold wind swept through the festival grounds, causing lanterns to swing wildly and sending loose items tumbling. The cheerful conversations faltered as people looked around in confusion. This wind carried an unnatural chill that cut through the warm summer night.
On the outskirts of the village, horses whinnied and stamped, refusing to enter despite their handlers' efforts. One merchant's cart remained half-unloaded as his team of horses refused to move closer to the village center.
"Something's wrong," Kaal said, his fur bristling. A whisper seemed to reach him from the dark forest beyond the village—not words exactly, but a rhythmic sound like the drawing and releasing of breath. No one else appeared to notice it.
Above them, a flock of crows that had been roosting in the village's tallest trees suddenly took flight with alarmed cries. The mass of black wings briefly blotted out the stars before the birds dispersed in all directions, as if fleeing some unseen threat.
A deep, rumbling growl echoed from the forest edge—too low for most to hear, but Kaal felt it in his bones. His crimson eyes narrowed as he scanned the treeline, every instinct from his former life as a veteran soldier now fully alert.
Most of the festival-goers continued their celebrations, attributing the strange occurrences to nothing more than unusual weather. But Kaal noticed others—mainly elders and those with combat experience—casting wary glances toward the shadows beyond the village boundaries.
"Veer," Kaal began, but the young Guardian was already looking in the same direction, his amber eyes reflecting something more than just firelight.
"Yeah, I feel it too," Veer said quietly. "But I don't understand what—"
His words were cut short by a child's delighted laugh. A small human girl, no more than five years old, had broken away from her parents and was chasing a butterfly that fluttered tantalizingly toward the eastern edge of the village. The colorful insect danced just beyond her reach, leading her closer and closer to the darkened treeline.
Kaal didn't hesitate. Every instinct screamed danger as he bounded across the ground toward the child. She had nearly reached the first trees when the butterfly suddenly froze in midair, then disintegrated into black dust. The little girl stopped, confused.
In the shadows between two ancient oaks, something moved—a darkness deeper than the night itself, shifting like liquid smoke. A tendril of shadow, almost invisible against the forest's gloom, snaked out toward the child's ankle.
Kaal launched himself forward with a speed that belied his small form, colliding with the girl and rolling them both back toward the village. The shadow tendril recoiled with a sound like a hiss of steam, retreating into the darkness between the trees.
"Mira!" A woman rushed forward, scooping up the confused child. She glanced at Kaal with a mixture of gratitude and trepidation before hurrying back to the festival lights.
Kaal remained at the village edge, his crimson eyes fixed on the space where the shadow had appeared. It was gone now, or at least hidden, but he could feel its presence—waiting, watching.
Veer, the Guardian was helping prepare for the evening's ceremonial lighting of settlement torches.
As night deepened, torches and bonfires blazed throughout the village, pushing back the darkness. Music and laughter continued unabated.
Kaal remained vigilant as he rushed to inform everyone about the event he faced, patrolling the edges of the celebration, his crimson eyes constantly scanning the shadows.
The climax of the evening approached—the ceremonial lighting of settlement torches from the Eternal Flame. Representatives from each community gathered in a circle around the central hearth, each holding an unlit torch wrapped in materials symbolic of their culture. The crowd fell silent as Veer, in his role as Guardian, prepared to conduct the sacred ritual.
He raised his hands toward the Eternal Flame, which blazed higher in response. "As it has for generations, the light of protection passes from Agnidvara to all who seek its warmth," he intoned, his voice carrying across the hushed gathering.
The moment his fingers touched the first torch—held by an elder from Silverleaf—everything changed.
The torch exploded— into black flame, causing the elf to drop it with a cry of pain. Throughout the village, other fires transformed simultaneously—lanterns, cooking fires, even candles twisted and darkened, their friendly light replaced by cold, black flames that gave no warmth.
The Eternal Flame itself shuddered violently, shrinking to half its size before flaring back with a defiant golden glow. The stone hearth beneath it cracked with a sound like breaking bones.
From the forest edge came a slithering sound, followed by the screams of those nearest the trees.
A wave of shadows slithered, twisted, poured-in like living ink. They moved wrong, bodies contorting at impossible angles, flowing over and through obstacles rather than around them.
One shadow creature slammed against a wooden wall—and instead of breaking, it folded, limbs snapping unnaturally as it crawled along the surface like a broken spider. Another burst into dozens of writhing tendrils, wrapping around a dwarven warrior's arm, pulling him backward into the darkness. His scream was cut short, the silence more terrifying than any sound.
"To arms!" The call came from the Stormclaw orcs, who were the first to recover from the surprise. They formed a defensive line, massive axes gleaming in the unnatural light.
Panic erupted as festival-goers fled in all directions. Children screamed for parents; merchants abandoned their goods; musicians dropped instruments that continued to play discordant notes as they rolled across the ground.
The shadows moved with terrible purpose, flowing around defenders to grab unprotected villagers. Those caught by the darkness were dragged screaming toward the forest, their bodies leaving trails in the dirt before disappearing among the trees.
"Veer!" Kaal shouted up from a watchtower. "The eastern gate—they're concentrated there!"
The young Guardian nodded grimly, his hands already glowing with amber light as he channeled Urza energy. His bow levitated and came towards him like a spinning top.
The village's defenders had begun to organize. Treejumper goblins had scaled the wooden palisade, loosing poisoned arrows into the mass of shadows from above. The results were mixed—some creatures dissipated into mist when struck, while others seemed unaffected.
Dwarven warriors from Khazak-Dûm had formed a shield wall, their interlocking defenses creating a barrier behind which children and elders were gathered. The polished surface of their shields reflected the black flames, somehow weakening the shadows that came too close.
The most effective fighters were the Tuskwood orcs, whose massive axes seemed to physically sli——ced through the shadow beings. Each swing left trails of green Urza energy that cauterized the darkness, preventing it from reforming.
Elven chanters had formed a circle around the damaged Eternal Flame,
(Om.....thee goddess earth, may your protection be at us—)
their voices raised in ancient songs that strengthened what remained of the village's magical barriers. With each verse, the golden light pulsed stronger, pushing back nearby shadows.
Kaal and Veer reached the eastern gate, where the fighting was fiercest. The wooden structure had been shattered, its protective runes broken. Beyond it, the forest had transformed—trees twisted into unnatural shapes, their branches reaching like claws toward the sky.
"We need to seal the breach!" Veer shouted, raising his Bow toward the broken gate. Flames erupted from his palms, forming a barrier of golden fire across the opening.
Kaal positioned himself before the flame wall, his small form belying his fighting spirit. "I'll hold them here!"
A shadow creature larger than the others surged forward, multiple limbs grasping at Kaal. He ducked low— skidding beneath its swipe. He was Fast, but they were endless. Think. Think. Fire worked, but they moved too quickly.
His eyes darted to a nearby collapsed torch stand, still burning. Kaal grabbed a burning stick in his mouth and swung. The shadow recoiled—not from the fire itself, but from the sudden light.
Light.. That was it. If fire burned them, maybe pure light could stun them.
He leapt onto a rooftop, knocking over an oil lantern. The flames spilled, illuminating the street below. The shadows nearest to it twitched violently, their forms distorting as if in pain.
Kaal slashed through one creature, but his claws met nothing but air. The being dissolved and reformed behind him, forcing him to roll away. His anger starts rising.
With each shadow he slashed, Kaal felt a surge of energy—the Grim Reaper skill activating, drawing strength from the intent to defeat enemies. His crimson eyes glowed brighter and brighter, and his movements became quicker, more...savage.
Veer fighting beside him, one hand holding the Bow enveloped in flame while the other pulls the string relentlessly releasing the shots of golden fire. Each strike banished multiple shadows back into the darkness beyond.
For a moment, it seemed it seemed possible to hold the defenses.
Defenders throughout the village were rallying, pushing back the initial wave of shadow creatures. The black flames began to recede, normal firelight gradually returning to torches and lanterns.
Then, abruptly— wind changed its direction, all the shadow creatures stopped moving, frozen in place, then slowly turned toward the forest as one, as if listening to an unheard command.
The temperature plummeted. Frost formed on the ground around the Eternal Flame despite the summer heat. The golden fire dimmed, struggling against an invisible force that seemed to smother it.
Aaw—oooooooooooooooooo.....
A growl emanated from the forest—not the warning rumble Kaal had heard earlier, but a bone-vibrating roar that made the ground itself tremble. [Crack...]Glasses shattered, [krrnk...kk..]wooden supports cracked, and several defenders fell to their knees, hands clasped over bleeding ears."Ahhhh....."
"What is that?" someone cried out.
In the darkness beyond Veer's flame barrier, something massive moved. Trees bent and broke, their trunks snapping like kindling as an enormous shape pushed through the forest. The darkness itself seemed to coalesce around the approaching figure, forming a swirling vortex of absolute black.
"Hold the line!" Veer commanded, pouring more power into his flame barrier. The golden fire roared higher, stretching across the entire eastern approach to the village.
Two elven mages rushed forward to join him, adding their power to the barrier. For a heartbeat, the combined light pushed back the encroaching darkness.
CRACK/>. A thin fracture split across the golden barrier. The elves' voices rose, their chants turning frantic.
The Shadow Lord stepped forward.... Its mere presence deepened the cracks.
Another step. CRACK. An elven mage dropped to his knees, blood trickling from his nose, his skin growing pale as his life force drained into the barrier.
One final step. The Shadow Lord raised what might have been a claw—and pressed.
Those who saw widened thier eyes in fear.
The barrier didn't shatter—it screamed. A deafening, wailing sound rippled across the battlefield as the dome imploded. The elves collapsed, their bodies breaking like brittle glass, dissolving into motes of light that were immediately devoured by the shadows.
Veer staggered backward, blood trickling from his nose from the strain of maintaining the failing barrier. "Impossible," he gasped. "Nothing should be able to break through the flame's protection!"
The barrier collapsed completely. And then the Shadow Lord was there.
It did not move—it shifted. One moment, it stood at the barrier's edge. The next, it was inside, without a single step.
The torches did not go out—they were devoured. The fire didn't flicker—it simply ceased to be, as if that particular piece of reality had been erased.
Its form shifted constantly, sometimes appearing vaguely wolf-like, other times taking shapes for which no words existed. Only its eyes remained constant—twin voids that pulled at the soul of anyone who looked directly into them.
Around the village, the defenders stood frozen in terror as the colossal shadow entity fully entered Agnidvara, the Eternal Flame's light dimming to a mere flicker in its presence.
The Shadow Lord raised its ever-changing arms toward the sky and let out a sound that was felt rather than heard—a promise of oblivion that sent village defenders staggering backward.
Kaal moved to stand his ground, then suddenly froze. Something was wrong.
The massive wolf-like shadow wasn't just looking at the defenders—it was studying him.
Shadows didn't do that. They attacked. They devoured. But this one... it waited.
The battlefield around him faded. A sick, twisting sensation curled in his gut. He had never seen this creature before—but why did it feel like it had seen him?
Why wasn't it attacking him?
Kaal felt it in his bones—a primal, gnawing instinct screaming at him to run. But his body wouldn't respond. The Shadow Lord's gaze held him, probing, searching, as if peeling back layers of his very existence.
In that frozen moment, the world around them seemed to hold its breath. The Shadow Lord tilted what passed for its head, and Kaal felt a pressure build inside his skull—not words, not even thoughts, but something older, something that predated language itself.
Recognition. Interest. A terrible curiosity.
Then the moment broke as Veer's voice cut through the silence, calling Kaal's name. The Shadow Lord's attention shifted, and Kaal felt himself released from whatever paralysis had gripped him.
Something hidden in him woke-up as his sparked in blood red and his pupils turned slits, like those of lizards.
With a roar of defiance, he leapt forward, his small form a blur of darkness against the greater shadow.
The battle for Agnidvara had only just begun.