The forest loomed around them, the sounds of heavy breathing, pounding footsteps, and rustling leaves the only things that cut through the silence of the night. 

The moon was a pale witness, now slowly giving way to the first hints of red streaking across the sky as dawn's light began to creep in. 

The chase was still on, and the weight of the forest seemed to grow heavier with every step.

Lyra, her heart pounding, ran alongside Haerak, Seraphina, and Aina, each of their faces reflecting the tension in the air, the fear of not knowing what awaited them or who they had left behind. 

The villagers were scattered between the members of the Renaissance Band, but they weren't safe yet. 

They had to keep running.

"Haerak," Lyra huffed as she kept pace with him.

"Why'd you bring Aina? It's dangerous, even for you."

Haerak's gaze was fixed ahead, his jaw set in determination as he ran. 

His voice was calm but carried the weight of experience. 

"Dont' you remember? I trust the Renaissance Band, especially Gargeal here. I've seen their power, their resolve. They've saved us before, and I believe in them. We will get out of here. And as for Aina..." 

He glanced down at his daughter, who was trotting beside him, her small hands gripping his clothes. 

"I can't leave her behind. I won't."

Aina looked up at her father with wide eyes, a small smile breaking through the fear. 

"I'm not scared, Papa," she chirped. 

"I'm gonna help! I'll protect you!"

Seraphina chuckled softly, though her expression remained serious. 

"You're a brave girl, Aina. You'll help us all."

Aina skipped ahead a little, glancing back at her father. 

But as she continued to run, her eyes darted around, searching for something—or rather, someone. 

"Where's Andhur and Kazaks? Where are they?"

Seraphina's gaze darkened slightly, but she didn't slow her pace. 

"They're still inside the tower, but don't worry, we'll come back for them once the villagers are safe. We'll fight Evelori then. We can't afford to protect the others and fight her at the same time."

Lyra nodded, the realization of how critical this escape was sinking in. 

But then, she had a thought. 

"Seraphina, do you still have any of those potions left? We might need them for the battle ahead."

Seraphina's expression tightened, and she shook her head. 

"No potions, no vials. Not a single one left. We'll have to rely on the Band's strength, and on your enchanted weapons."

Lyra's grip on her bow tightened, and she gave a determined nod, even though she felt a slight pang of worry. 

She murmured, knowing that this would be their last stand.

"I'll make sure my weapons are ready."

The group continued to run, but the journey was wearing on them. 

Haerak's sharp eyes pierced through the shadows, and after what felt like an eternity of running, he finally saw the edge of the Dark Forest, the thick trees parting to reveal a swath of tall grasses that swayed in the breeze. 

Before them, standing under the pale glow of the moon, were faces they thought they'd never see again. 

Faces of loved ones, long gone from their lives. 

For a brief moment—

It seemed like a dream. 

Was it truly real?

Then, a man—his beard graying with age, his eyes hollow with months of despair—squinted into the light. 

And suddenly, his heart seemed to stop. 

There, standing just ahead, was his wife, her tired face now filled with the same confusion, the same disbelieving wonder.

For a moment, neither of them moved, neither daring to believe it. 

Then, as if a dam had burst, the man took a slow, hesitant step forward, his hands shaking as they reached out. 

"Is it really you?" His voice cracked, raw with emotion.

She gasped, blinking rapidly as tears welled in her eyes. Her hands flew to her mouth, and in the next instant, she collapsed into his arms. 

"I—I thought I lost you forever!" She sobbed into his chest, her words muffled by his coat. 

"I thought you were dead..."

The man held her tight, as if he were afraid she might slip away. 

He clutched her with an intensity that made the breath catch in the chest of everyone who saw it. 

"I never gave up," he whispered hoarsely, his voice full of pain and relief. 

"I never gave up on you, not for one moment."

And then, as if the weight of the world had been lifted, they simply held each other. 

The world around them didn't matter anymore. 

In that moment—

Nothing else existed but their reunion.

Nearby, a small child, no more than six or seven, hesitated, clutching the hem of her father's coat. 

Her eyes darted around nervously until they locked on to a woman standing a few feet away. 

The woman's gaze was just as frantic, just as searching, and then—suddenly—she gasped.

"Mama!" the girl cried, her voice trembling with disbelief.

The woman's face crumpled in joy, and with a cry of "My angel!" she dropped to her knees just as the little girl dashed into her arms. 

The moment they embraced, the little girl wrapped her small arms around her mother's neck, holding on as if her life depended on it. 

"I thought I'd never see you again. I prayed this night, Mama. I prayed so hard..."

Tears streamed down the woman's face as she kissed her daughter's head over and over again. 

"I'm so sorry, my sweet one. I'm so sorry. But I'm here now. I'm here."

A few feet away, an older man was holding the hand of his son, his other hand clutching his chest as he looked at the reunion before him. 

He whispered softly to the boy.

"Do you see that? They're alive... they're really alive."

The boy, no older than ten, looked up at him with wide eyes. 

"Are we going to see Mama too?"

The old man smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. 

"Soon, my boy. We will see her soon."

But before the man could say another word, a woman—her face worn with grief—approached him hesitantly. 

At first, she looked past him, not quite recognizing him, and then her eyes widened in realization. 

"...Jorrin?" she whispered.

The old man froze. 

His heart began to race, and he turned slowly to face her. 

The world seemed to stop as his breath caught in his throat. 

The woman before him was everything he remembered—her long dark hair falling over her shoulders, the small scar above her eyebrow where their daughter had accidentally scratched her when she was just a child. 

"Selina?" he asked, voice cracking.

She nodded, tears flooding her eyes. 

"I didn't... I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I thought I'd lost you too..."

Jorrin dropped to his knees before her, reaching for her hands, his weathered fingers trembling as they gripped hers. 

"I'm sorry it took so long. I'm so sorry."

And then, they embraced. 

It wasn't just a hug. 

It was everything they had been through, everything they had lost and gained inside the Luminary Tower, every moment of pain and hope now pouring out of them in one desperate, cathartic embrace. 

"I'm not going anywhere," Jorrin whispered, his voice shaking.

One by one, the villagers reunited with their loved ones. 

A father clasped his son in his arms, lifting him off the ground as the child's tiny voice hiccuped with laughter and tears. 

A mother stood, trembling, before her daughter, who had been lost for what felt like an eternity, unable to speak, only to clasp each other in an embrace so tight it seemed to last forever.

As each reunion took place, the air seemed to grow heavier with emotion, the sheer weight of lost time and stolen moments bringing everyone to their knees—literally and metaphorically. 

Some cried quietly, others laughed in shock, and some, like the woman and her child, simply held on to each other for dear life, as though they were afraid the moment would disappear if they let go.

△▼△▼△▼△

Gargeal stood a little to the side, watching with a hard, pained expression as he observed the tender, overwhelming scenes before him. 

His jaw clenched, but there was something softer in his gaze—something that hadn't been there before. 

This was why he fought. 

For moments like this. 

For these kinds of reunions. 

This, above all, was worth saving.

"Master, they—" Qarek's voice faltered as he watched a man lift his wife into his arms, twirling her around in a dizzying dance of pure joy. 

"This... this is what we've fought for, isn't it?"

Gargeal nodded silently. 

He wanted to say more, but the words caught in his throat, choked by the realization that even after all they had gone through, even after so much loss, these people still had a chance.

"Let them have this moment," Gargeal finally said, his voice rough. 

"We've earned it. But it won't last. Not yet."

The scene around them continued, with parents and children finding each other, with husbands and wives being reunited in tearful relief. Even the hardest of hearts could not have watched without feeling the weight of what it meant to love, to endure, and to survive.

Haerak stood back, his daughter Aina by his side. 

She was watching with wide eyes, taking in the emotion, the reunion, and the love surrounding them. 

She said, her voice small and full of wonder.

"Papa, they're so happy."

Haerak nodded, his throat tight. 

"They are, little one. They are."

The villagers had found their families again, and despite everything, they would survive. 

They had to.

The emotion was overwhelming. It was too much for some of them, the joy, the fear, and the relief all tangled up in their hearts. 

They had been separated for so long, and now, against all odds, they were reunited.

Qarek looked around, his face furrowed with concern as he stepped closer to Gargeal. 

"Master, do they know? Do they know what's really happening?"

Gargeal's voice was low but firm. 

"They know. Some of them. Turns out, none of the villagers really knew the full extent of what was going on. Only that one woman we spoke to. She's the only one who had a clue."

Haerak, who had been standing near his daughter, overheard this. 

"That's suspicious," he murmured. 

"Who is she? Why did she know everything?"

Gargeal nodded slowly. 

"I already know what she looks like, finding her here won't be hard. We'll find out later. Right now, we have bigger things to deal with. She's somewhere in the village, though, and we'll speak with her once this is all over."

Lyra's mind was already focused on the battle ahead. 

"Hold on, I'll run to my blacksmith's shop and get the latest  enchanted sword I crafted. I'll be back in a flash. We'll need all the weapons we can get if we're going to face Evelori again."

Seraphina gave her a sad smile. 

"Be safe, Lyra. But make sure you hurry. We don't have much time."

Haerak took a deep breath, his face hardening with resolve. 

"We'll leave everything to you, Gargeal. I'll make sure my people don't wander off, make sure they stay safe. This village won't fall while I'm here."

Gargeal gave a firm nod, acknowledging Haerak's words. 

"We'll need your strength, all of you. I trust in your leadership, Haerak."

With that, Haerak, Aina, Lyra, and Seraphina began to run toward the heart of the village, leading the villagers they had rescued toward the safety of their homes, even as they prepared for the final battle that would determine the fate of everyone.

The village was still standing—just barely. 

But as they ran, hope burned brighter in their hearts, even as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting its eerie red glow over the land.

But the battle wasn't over.

Not yet.

△▼△▼△▼△

Jiighual, his massive pavise shield strapped to his back, and Nert, who had abandoned his usual weaponry in favor of speed, appeared from the shadows, running toward the others. 

Their faces were drawn with exhaustion, but their eyes were sharp and alert.

Gargeal shouted, his voice a mixture of relief and worry.

"Nert!" 

"Master!" Nert cried, his voice barely carrying over the rustling of the grass. 

"Captain and Ruby are being taken care of by some people of the village, we'll help you!"

Jiighual's heavy footsteps thudded behind him, his shield barely swinging with the force of his stride. 

As they approached the others, Jiighual's deep voice echoed across the group. 

"Master! Qarek! Yzavynne! Leeani! You're alright?"

Qarek was the first to respond, his voice steady but tinged with fatigue. 

"We're fine," he said, his gaze momentarily flicking over the group, assessing the gathered villagers. 

"But... Andhur and Kazaks... we didn't get them back."

A sudden silence fell over the group, the weight of Qarek's words sinking in like a stone to the chest. 

Nert's eyes widened in disbelief, his face contorting with a deep, unspeakable worry. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. 

It was Yzavynne who broke the silence next, her voice full of harsh truth.

"Evelori," Yzavynne's voice was quiet, measured, but there was a deep burn in it that seemed to cut through the air.

"She's far too strong for us. Not only that, she's only unpredictable."

The others exchanged uneasy glances. 

Qarek's stomach twisted painfully. 

He had seen firsthand how powerful Evelori was. 

Her magic—her control—was unlike anything he'd ever encountered. 

The others might have been weakened, but they hadn't even begun to truly understand the depths of her power.

Jiighual clenched his fists around the straps of his shield. His deep growl cut through the tension. 

"We need every single one of us, to fight against her if we even want a chance of hurting her." 

His voice shook slightly with anger and helplessness.

Nert nodded, his mind racing with possible solutions, though he knew deep down that none of them were likely to succeed. 

His eyes flickered between the faces of the others—Qarek, Yzavynne, Leeani, Gargeal—each one grim and deeply troubled by what had just been revealed. 

The weight of their situation hung heavily between them like a dark cloud.

Gargeal's brow furrowed as he processed the information. 

"So," he said slowly, his tone deadly serious. 

"She's invulnerable compared to the ones she created, huh?" 

He turned toward the others, his eyes narrowing. 

"Then... we're screwed."

Qarek's eyes flicked nervously, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"What do we do, master?" 

His voice was tense, full of desperation. 

"What the hell do we do? She has Andhur, Kazaks, and she's... she's untouchable!"

Gargeal's jaw clenched tightly, but for a moment, he couldn't answer. 

The truth was, they were at a loss. 

They had fought many things—warriors, beasts, even curses—but nothing like Evelori. 

A witch, a necromancer, an unstoppable force. 

He felt the weight of his leadership press down on him harder than ever. 

They needed answers. 

They needed strategy.

Yzavynne stepped forward, a hard glint in her eye. 

"I have an idea. A plan," she said, her voice low and sure, though the weariness in her eyes was evident. 

"We strike fast. We hit her at her weakest point—"

Leeani immediately cut her off, a flicker of disbelief crossing her features. 

"Her weakest point? Do you even know what you're talking about? We don't know anything about her weakness!"

Yzavynne's face tightened. 

"It's the only shot we've got! We take her by surprise and—"

"No," Leeani interrupted again, shaking her head firmly. 

"It's not going to work. We've never faced necromancers before, Evelori's different. Her magic—her power—it's more than just the physical. It's a curse. If we try to fight her head-on, she'll tear us apart before we even get close."

Jiighual's voice rumbled, thick with frustration. 

"We can't just sit here and do nothing. We don't even know where she is now, right?! If we wait too long, we'll never get the chance!"

Nert turned sharply to face Gargeal, his eyes wild with panic. 

"What do we do, master? We can't just stand here and talk. We need to find a way to—"

But Gargeal held up a hand, silencing him. 

His gaze shifted over the group as they all fell quiet, the uncertainty in their eyes mirroring his own. 

"I don't know," he muttered darkly. 

"I really don't know."

For a long moment, the only sound was the distant rustle of wind in the trees, a faint reminder that time was running out. 

They couldn't keep arguing forever. 

They needed to move. 

They needed a plan.

Yzavynne crossed her arms, her eyes cold. 

"There's got to be something we're missing. There has to be a way to counter her. We can't just give up."

Gargeal sighed heavily. 

He had seen this before—the moment of tension where they all fought to find an answer, to force a solution out of the unknown. 

But no matter how many times they talked about it, no matter how many plans they devised, they kept hitting the same dead end. 

Evelori was a monster, pure and simple. 

No strategy, no weapon, no amount of magic would be enough to defeat her without understanding her true power.

"Her magic isn't like the others we've faced," Gargeal said quietly. 

"It's... it's not just about strength or skill. It's something deeper, something older. We don't know enough to beat her. Not yet."

Leeani frowned. 

"So what do we do? Just sit here and wait for her to come to us? Let her finish the job!?"

The air grew heavy with the weight of the conversation. 

Each word they spoke seemed to carry the knowledge that they were nearing a breaking point. Evelori was coming for them. And they didn't have the answers.

A heavy silence settled over the group, and in that moment, it felt as though the very earth had stilled beneath them. 

They could feel the pull of the coming battle, the inevitability of what was to come, but there was no certainty. 

No clear way forward.

Finally, Nert turned to Gargeal, his eyes intense. 

"We can't just keep talking. We need to move. We need a plan, even if it's not perfect. We can't let her take everything from us."

Jiighual's voice rumbled behind him. 

"I'll follow you, master. But if we don't have a plan, we'll fall into her trap."

They stood there in the grass, the weight of their uncertainty suffocating them. 

Evelori's dark presence loomed over them, the fear of facing her hanging thick in the air. 

They were all too aware of the danger, too aware that time was running out.

Gargeal's eyes narrowed as he scanned the faces of his comrades. 

This wasn't over. 

Not yet. 

They had fought too hard—

Come too far to let Evelori win.

"Alright," Gargeal said, his voice firm. 

"We need to keep moving. But we don't fight blindly. We wait for the right moment. And we make sure that when we strike, we strike together."

The air felt charged, thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint crackling of the underbrush. 

The night seemed to hold its breath as a dark, unnatural substance slithered its way through the tall grass. 

It was as though the very soil was being poisoned, the vibrant green of the grasses wilting and dying in the wake of the black liquid. 

The once-pristine earth now bore the marks of a malicious force, its life drained away in mere moments.

Nert was the first to notice the movement. 

His eyes darted to the ground, narrowing as the dark substance crept like a living thing across the landscape. 

He muttered under his breath, his voice tense. 

"No..." 

The others followed his gaze, their bodies instinctively tensing.

Before anyone could react, the liquid coalesced into a shape, a form that was all too familiar but entirely wrong. 

It solidified into the twisted, haunting figure of Evelori—her body slick and unnerving, dripping with the residue of her unholy transformation. 

Her eyes glowed with a sickly green light, and her smile was a cruel mockery of humanity.

She stood tall, her movements fluid and unsettling, the very air around her seeming to distort as though the world itself feared her presence. 

She looked around, eyes scanning the group as they prepared to defend themselves. 

But they barely had time to react before she stretched her arm impossibly long and slapped Nert aside with terrifying force. 

He crumpled to the ground with a gasp, his body twisting painfully as he hit the ground hard.

Before anyone could move, Evelori's body seemed to flow like a viscous liquid, her tendrils shooting out, twisting around Yzavynne and Leeani. 

With a sickening slurp, they were trapped, their mouths covered by her viscous form. 

Their screams were muffled, the air slowly draining from their lungs. 

Evelori's eyes gleamed with malicious glee as she watched them struggle.

"Where are they?!" Evelori's voice was an eerie hiss, sharp and mocking. 

"Where are my test subjects?!"

Gargeal's hand shot to his greatsword, his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt. 

Without hesitation, he swung the massive blade toward Evelori, aiming to cleave through her slimy form. 

But as the sword made contact, she simply melted, turning into a puddle of liquid and flowing around the blade as though it had never been there at all. 

The sword passed through the empty air with a sickening, hollow sound.

Qarek, not missing a beat, unsheathed his enchanted knife, its blade glowing faintly with magical power. 

He lunged toward Evelori, aiming for her chest, but every strike missed. 

"Hrmph! Hrmph! Die! Evelori!"

The blade slid harmlessly through the air as Evelori twisted and contorted her form, avoiding every thrust with unsettling ease. 

It was as if she knew their every move before they even made it.

Jiighual, the towering warrior, stepped forward, his shield raised in defense. 

"Now's my time to shine!"

He tried to shove Evelori back, to force her away with the sheer weight and power of his movements. 

But Evelori had other plans. 

She twisted and coiled around him, and with one violent snap, she crushed his pavise shield as if it were nothing more than paper. 

The sound of metal crumpling under her strength was deafening. 

Jiighual barely had time to react before he was thrown aside, landing hard on the ground with a grunt.

Qarek voice cracked through the pain, the force of Evelori's assault still reverberating in his body.

"Master!" 

Gargeal, his heart pounding in his chest, stared at the creature before him. 

His grip tightened around the sword's hilt once more, his body trembling with rage and fear. 

But then Evelori's voice, cold and venomous, sliced through the air, stopping him mid-swing.

"One more," she hissed. 

"One more swing and they'll die. You really are starting to piss me off now, old man."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and foreboding. 

Gargeal froze, his mind racing. 

His eyes flickered to Yzavynne and Leeani, still trapped in Evelori's viscous grip, struggling for air. 

Every breath they took seemed to be a labor, their bodies shuddering as they tried to free themselves.

Gargeal's voice was strained, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like an anvil.

"What do you want?" 

Evelori's smile widened, the wickedness in her eyes growing. 

"I... want... you to drop your greatsword. And perhaps I might spare these two women." 

Her voice was dripping with malice, each word a twisted promise.

Gargeal hesitated, his eyes flicking between the sword in his hand and the helpless women before him. 

The weight of the decision was unbearable. 

But finally, with a heavy heart, he let go. 

The greatsword fell to the ground with a dull thud, its blade sinking into the earth, and a wave of guilt washed over him. 

His hand trembled as he stepped back, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Master!" Qarek's voice was desperate, his eyes wide with shock. 

"But—!"

Gargeal turned to him, his gaze firm despite the internal turmoil. 

"Drop it," he commanded, his voice low but resolute.

Qarek hesitated, his hand hovering over the hilt of his knife. 

His gaze flickered between Gargeal and Evelori. 

Finally, with a pained grunt, he dropped it to the ground. 

The enchanted knife glinted faintly in the moonlight, its power now useless in their moment of surrender.

Evelori's laughter filled the air, low and mocking. 

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!"

But then—

As quickly as her amusement had come—

It was gone—

Replaced by a cruel and savage intensity.

Suddenly, from the mass of shifting, writhing flesh that was her form, a sharp, jagged limb shot out, growing and morphing into a wicked, deadly spike. 

It lunged forward, piercing the air toward Gargeal's abdomen with horrifying speed.

Qarek shouted, his voice filled with desperation.

"Master!" 

Gargeal's instincts kicked in. 

With a grunt of exertion, he reached out and grabbed the limb just before it could impale him. 

His fingers closed around it with a desperate strength, the sharpness of the spike digging into his skin. 

Pain seared through his hand, but he held fast, gritting his teeth against the agony.

"Qarek!" Gargeal roared, his voice raw with pain. 

"The knife!"

Qarek's eyes widened in shock, but there was no time to hesitate. 

He darted forward, his movements fluid and quick despite the chaos around them. 

He grabbed the enchanted knife from the ground and, without thinking, hurled it toward Gargeal.

Gargeal caught it in mid-flight, the cool steel biting into his hand as he took aim at the vicious limb that threatened to tear him apart. 

With all the strength he could muster, he drove the blade into the writhing mass of Evelori's appendage, his heart pounding as the knife sunk deep into the grotesque flesh.

The impact sent a shockwave through the air. 

Evelori screamed—a deafening, guttural sound that echoed through the night. 

"ARGHHHHHHH! My precious... BODY!""

Her form buckled and writhed, the liquid black substance recoiling in agony as the blade found its mark. 

Her grip on Yzavynne and Leeani loosened, and with a violent spasm, the two women were thrown from her grasp. 

They fell to the ground, gasping for air, their chests heaving with desperation.

Nert, still groggy from the earlier blow, stirred. 

His eyes snapped open as he saw the chaos around him. His body screamed with pain, but the sight of Yzavynne and Leeani freed from Evelori's grasp gave him a burst of adrenaline. 

He pushed himself up, his mind racing with the need to act.

But Evelori was not done. 

Her form shifted again, twisting and contorting into something far more grotesque, far more nightmarish than before. 

Her once-human body distorted beyond recognition, merging with the very essence of corruption. 

Her face was a grotesque parody of humanity, with the features of a pig and a twisted, leering grin. 

Her body had become a monstrous amalgamation of animal parts—chicken legs, bull's limbs, a sheep's bloated torso. 

It was a horror beyond comprehension—

A creature that defied nature itself.

The ground trembled beneath her, and the air turned foul with the stench of decay. 

Evelori's new form loomed over them, a disgusting, nightmarish vision that seemed to mock everything they had fought for.

"All of you... will pay... for this!"

But they weren't done. 

Not yet.

The battle was far from over.

═════ ◆ TO BE CONTINUED ◆ ═════