I stepped from the treeline, my bow raised. The elemental titan let out a shriek of crackling wind and grinding stone as I loosed my first arrow. It struck the creature's shoulder, sparking against its rocky skin. Not enough to harm it, just enough to get its attention.

  It turned, slow and seething, eyes glowing like lightning-charged coals.

  “Over here,” I muttered, drawing another arrow.

  The white wolf surged forward with a snarl, its paws barely touching the ground. Like a phantom, it weaved between the trees, circling wide to flank the creature.

  The elemental howled and lumbered towards me.

  I sprinted, running along the treeline, leaping over roots slick with rain. I led the elemental away from Selene’s group, drawing it to an opening in the clearing. Arrows flew, each one aimed at a weak joint, a pulsing rune, a crack in the stony armor.

  Most bounced harmlessly away.

  The white wolf leapt onto its back, fangs tearing into a rune-stone embedded near the base of its neck. The elemental roared in fury, swiping backward with a massive, sparking arm.

  The wolf vanished before impact, reappearing beside me.

  I dropped to one knee, panting, fingers trembling as I notched another arrow.

  “Too strong…” I hissed.

  Then—the mark on my chest flared.

  A shock of cold rushed through my limbs. My vision sharpened again. The world slowed. I could see each raindrop fall, feel the storm's rhythm.

  The white wolf met my eyes.

  And I understood.

  Without thinking, I drew the next arrow, frosted over with crackling blue energy, and loosed it.

  The arrow sang through the air and slammed into the elemental’s knee joint. Ice spread instantly, locking the creature’s leg in a prison of frost. It staggered, providing a crucial opening.

  A sudden flash to my right—Selene.

  She blurred in, rapier slicing through exposed stone like a wind-carved scalpel. Bront followed, slamming his shield into the creature’s frozen leg with a thunderous crack. It buckled. Lyria raised her hands to the sky, summoning a burning column of flame that pierced the creature’s chest like a lance.

  The elemental howled and shattered, exploding into shards of stone and electricity that lit the trees in an eerie glow.

  Silence fell for a moment. Then, panting, the white wolf and I stepped further into the clearing.

  Lyria turned.

  Her eyes locked with mine. Wide with surprise. Then narrowing—judging.

  “You again,” she muttered.

  Bront grunted, nodding once in silent approval.

  Selene tossed me a sly grin, her eyes glowing from the intensity of the battle “Not bad ranger—you got here just in time.”

  I looked between them and offered a silent nod, unsure what to say at this point. I was just glad it worked out.

  My eyes drifted toward the hill where the shaman still stood, untouched, its staff raised toward the heavens.

  The storm thickened.

  The other party of adventurers was pushing in close, but seemed to be at a stalemate, unable to break through the wall of storm and earth elementals surrounding the shaman.

  Before I could say anything, Selene stepped forward.

  “Let’s go support them! Yukon, cover our blind spots!.” She shouted, immediately springing into motion and leading our charge up the hill.

  The white wolf and I ran with the trio, cutting down any enemies that stood in our way.

  We worked well together.

  Selene’s lightning fast swordsmanship, Bront’s raw strength, and Lyria’s mastery of magic made quick work of the smaller elementals trickling down the hill. My arrows found their marks time and time again, the white wolf ran beside us, tearing down any enemies that slipped through a chink in our formation.

  We were closing ground fast.

  The wind whipped and whistled around us. Rain fell like a fine spray. Flashing lightning and crackling thunder mixed with the sound of stones grinding together as the elementals continued their desperate defense of the shaman.

  The other party was making progress now too as we helped divide the enemies’ attention. For the first time, I saw the shamans face. A deep red color, intrinsic of a Fell born, eyes blazing green. This was a creature of the Fell dimension.

  I don’t know if it was my instincts or something deeper… But before I could even acknowledge the sensation I’d felt, I was already screaming— “GET DOWN!”

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  To my surprise, Selene, Bront, and Lyria actually headed my warning, hitting the soil as a concussive blast of thunderous energy swept over us. The shaman had started to fight in earnest, his spells were devastating.

  Our two parties battled the shaman and his remaining elementals, I tried every angle I could find to slip in an arrow, but his defenses were solid. Lyria and the other mage were tied up contesting his spells. With each flick of his wrist, guttural incantation, and flare of his staff, the very earth came alive to snuff us out.

  I needed more power…

  Dodging flying earth and ensnaring vines, I leapt across a chasm just as it formed. Landing swiftly, I turned and took aim. Remembering the sensation from the last time I’d done it, I controlled my breathing, focused on my connection with the white wolf, and drew my arrow.

  That same chill washed over me, I felt the muscles in my arm ripple and bulge as I channeled the white wolf's strength, my arm transforming slightly as I borrowed its power. I pulled back my bow beyond its normal limits, the arrow sparked with icy blue energy, and I released.

  The arrow whistled through the air with speed I’d never achieved before. It sailed through twisting vines and broken earth at a blinding rate, but to my complete surprise the shaman reacted, raising a wall of vines at the last moment.

  The arrow cut straight through, emitting a bluish shockwave on entry, splitting the vine wall with ease.

  The shaman somehow anticipated and blocked it with his staff, but as it connected it exploded into ice, freezing his staff and part of his arm.

  That was the opening they needed. The other party pressed down on the shaman, slowly encircling him.

  Off to the side, Lyria let out a strained yelp.

  I whipped my head around and saw her caught in entangling vines, her magic reserves almost depleted.

  The Fell shaman had a cruel smirk curling at his lips as he ignored the party currently pressing in on him. For some reason, he wanted Lyria dead.

  The air around the shaman pulsed with rage. His mouth twisted into a sneer as he whispered something—I didn’t know the language, but felt in my bones.

  Lightning licked across his arms, climbing like veins. He extended a single finger. Not a blast. Not a strike. A surge of execution. Death itself, shaped into light.

  My body moved on its own. My legs carried me as fast as they could. It wasn’t enough. Lyria was trapped in place, struggling, trying to rip away the vines. The shaman pointed his twisted finger.

  I needed to move faster.

  Please let me get there in time.

  Please—

  My thoughts went mute, the white wolf howled, the sound echoing in my mind as the world seemed to slow. Rain drops lazily cascading, dirt and debris flying in the wind, muffled and elongated shouts from Bront, Selene, and the other adventurers as they all battled for their lives.

  The mark on my chest seared—not cold this time, but hot and hollow, like a furnace devouring itself.

  The world went black.

  And then—

  Crimson eyes snapped open in the darkness. Not mine. They belonged to him.

  I became something else.

  Power, violent and hungry, tore through me. My breath hitched. My thoughts vanished. There was only the next step—the next kill.

  When I moved, the world shattered like glass.

  Lyria was screaming—not words, just raw sound. Her fingers clawed at the vines. Her magic sparked weakly and died.

  The shaman’s lightning lit her terrified face.

  My next step seemed to warp space itself, I moved with incomprehensible speed, my eyes glowing a deep crimson. In a flash my silver plated shortsword was in my hand, my feet impacted the earth as I came to a halt, cracking the very stone beneath me.

  The bolt struck my sword with the force of a falling star. The impact screamed through the blade and into my bones. Sparks exploded around us, blinding and hot.

  I slid backward, boots carving twin scars into the earth. Lyria gasped behind me, coughing, alive.

  I barely heard the shout as the shaman turned. My hand burned—the sword clattered from my grip.

  My knees buckled. The heat vanished. The red faded.

  The black wolf was gone.

  I collapsed, falling first to my knees, and then forward, crumbling into the dirt as the other party surged forward, blades and spells crashing into the shaman from all sides.

  A final scream echoed through the storm—then silence…

  * * *

  When the shaman fell and the vines ceased, Lyria came running to my side, frantically turning me over, expecting my body to be completely charred.

  Her eyes welled with emotion as she saw that, somehow… I was okay.

  My clothes were charred, smoke still curling from my chest—but my body was intact.

  barely damaged in fact.

  “You idiot… Why’d you go and do something like that,” Lyria whispered as she gazed down upon my unconscious form.

  Lyria noticed the mark on my chest, her eyes narrowed inquisitively at its design. A white and black wolf endlessly encircling each other, with a border of strange runes she couldn’t quite decipher.

  Her thoughts scattered as Selene and Bront approached.

  “How… How did he manage to…” Selene's words trailed off as she looked down at me.

  Bront wordlessly scooped me up, tossing me over his shoulder, offering his other hand to a still shaken Lyria. She took it.

  The other party of adventurers, who I would later find out were actually silver rank, had been the ones to deal the final blow. They offered to handle the rest and told Selene and the others to head back to Lanton.

  The dark clouds began to clear as the three of them walked back.

  Lyria was the first to speak.

  “He… He saved my life,” she said softly. “Even after I’d been so rude to him, he still risked everything to protect me.”

  Bront nodded.

  Selene glanced over at her, an inquisitive sparkle in her eyes.

  “I… I didn’t believe him… His apology to Bront, I’d seen it a thousand times. I’m a half-elf you know, we face our fair share of discrimination too… I—I really thought he was just saying whatever he thought would win us over… I was wrong,” Lyria explained, looking over at Selene, her eyes still full of emotion. “If… you two are still in agreement, I guess I wouldn’t mind changing my stance…”

  Selene smiled and clapped Lyria on the back, turning to face forward as they continued walking back to Lanton.

  “That settles it then. Once he wakes up, we’ll tell him the news. Assuming he hasn’t changed his mind, that is,” Selene said with a tone of finality.

  The storm had passed, but in its place, something new stirred in the hearts of those walking from the forest.