The forest burned with green fire. From the watchtower, Song Lian stared out into the dark, heart pounding. Dozens, no, hundreds of pale green lights flickered between the trees like ghostly will-o'-wisps. As they moved closer, they revealed their true nature.
Eyes. Dozens of eyes, glowing with an unnatural gleam. Beneath them, shadows writhed. Figures emerged and some were cloaked, others draped in robes stitched with sigils and bone charms. Every step they took toward Xingzhao was measured and silent, as if they were gliding rather than walking.
The Black Hall had come. From behind her, Yun Zhen stepped onto the rampart, sword in hand. He squinted into the darkness, and his breath caught.
"Gods," he murmured. "They brought an army."
"No," Song Lian said softly, her voice cold. "They brought a message."
Torches lit the perimeter walls. Alarm bells clanged as villagers scrambled. The militia was barely trained, still green, rushed to their positions. Spears were gripped with trembling hands. Archers fumbled with their bows. This was not a battlefield. It was a massacre waiting to happen.
Song Lian's mind raced. The villagers couldn't stand against this, not yet. The Black Hall's strength was overwhelming, their magic twisted, their strategy brutal. She'd hoped for more time. They didn't have it.
"We can't hold them with steel," she muttered. "Not tonight."
Yun Zhen turned to her, brows drawn. "Then what?"
She hesitated. Then cursed under her breath and turned, disappearing from the rampart. She rushed into the woods, a path she'd walked countless times. At the base of an old pine tree, she placed her hand against the trunk.
With a breath, she summoned the space bound to her soul. It pulsed in response. From the shimmering air, she pulled out a dark wooden case the size of a long scroll chest. She opened it quickly.
Two sleek black firearms. Compact, efficient, modern. Semi-automatic pistols. One for her. One for him.
She'd packed them long ago just in case. Part of her had hoped she'd never need them. Part of her had always known this day would come.
Song Lian reappeared at the gate just as Yun Zhen was directing troops. He turned toward her and froze. She held the gun in both hands as if it were a ceremonial blade. Reverent. Dangerous. She quickly taught him how to use it.
"What is that?" he asked, voice low.
She stepped close, pressing the weapon into his hands. "Something that kills faster than a sword."
His fingers curled around it automatically, but his eyes remained on hers. "Where did you…?"
"Later," she said. "If we survive."
Then she pulled her own gun from beneath her cloak and turned to face the trees. The forest exploded.
Figures charged from the dark, chanting in unholy tongues. The first wave hit the walls like a wave of shadow. Arrows loosed. Screams echoed. Fire flared from enchanted sigils drawn in blood. Chen Shu bellowed orders.
Villagers fought with desperation. Spears thrust, shields rattled, but the Black Hall's initiates were faster, stronger, filled with an unnatural resilience. Song Lian fired first. The crack of her pistol split the night like thunder.
The robed figure nearest the gate fell with a hole between his eyes. For a moment, silence reigned. Even the Black Hall faltered. Then Yun Zhen fired.
The second shot hit another attacker in the shoulder. He screamed and dropped. Fear began to flicker through the ranks of the enemy. Panic twisted their once-graceful formation.
Song Lian advanced from the wall, covering a group of terrified villagers as they tried to retreat. Her shots were precise, aimed with the clarity of someone who had trained in survival, not war.
Yun Zhen stood beside her, covering the opposite flank. His movements were elegant and more measured than hers but effective. For every initiate that fell, two more surged forward.
A shriek split the air. A section of the western palisade crumbled, smashed apart by a monstrous figure cloaked in black smoke. It was neither man nor beast as its body warped by dark magic, arms too long, mouth full of jagged teeth.
"The wall!" someone shouted. Villagers screamed and scattered.
"Hold the line!" Chen Shu roared, charging toward the breach.
Yun Zhen cursed and turned to follow. Song Lian pivoted to cover him, gunning down a hooded figure who nearly stabbed him from behind.But as she turned again and she saw her.
Standing on the far ridge above the treetops, her eyes like polished obsidian, robes fluttering despite the still air. The woman from the shrine.
The Black Hall's emissary. And she was smiling. Song Lian froze. The emissary raised her hand. Darkness coiled around her fingers.
She spoke a word that Song Lian didn't understand, but her soul shivered at the sound of it.
Suddenly, the smoke monster at the breach roared and charged straight for the longhouse where the children and elderly were hidden.
"No!" Song Lian shouted. She ran.
She skidded into the village square just as the beast reached the longhouse door. One shot left. She raised her gun. Fired.
The bullet struck the monster in the head. It barely flinched. She didn't have time to reload. The monster raised one massive claw. Then…
"Get down!" Yun Zhen's voice roared behind her.
A second shot rang out. Not a pistol. A rifle. The monster jerked back, stunned, and then turned its attention toward the new threat.
Yun Zhen had a rifle. From her space. He'd given it to him at the same time with the other gun but told him to use it as a last measure.
Behind him, the emissary vanished from the ridge. And in that moment, Song Lian realized something terrifying: The emissary hadn't come to conquer.
She'd come to watch. To measure. To assess the threat. Because next time… They wouldn't be testing Xingzhao's strength. They'd be trying to crush it.