The journey back from the orc kingdom was quiet, but the silence was far from peaceful. Tension hung in the air like a storm cloud. Even the wind, once crisp and cold in the northern ranges, seemed to carry the weight of something ominous.
Noah rode at the front, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the horizon with mechanical precision. He was no longer just a prince—no longer even just a villain of the story. The moment he shook hands with the Orc King, he had become something else entirely.
Behind him, Aren followed, his thoughts a storm of doubt and determination. The orcs had recognized his strength—but did he? Leadership had never been his goal, but now, it was being thrust upon him.
Their small caravan moved quickly, joined by a few trusted orc guards tasked with establishing communication between the realms. The pact had been made—but it would take more than words to unite centuries-old enemies.
As they passed through the dense mist of the Whispering Pines, a sudden chill gripped Aren's spine.
"Noah," he called, slowing his horse. "Do you feel that?"
Noah didn't reply right away. His gaze shifted to the treeline. Then he spoke, barely above a whisper, "We're being watched."
Before the words could settle, a sharp, hissing whistle sliced through the air. An arrow embedded itself into a nearby tree—mere inches from one of the orc guards.
"Ambush!" someone shouted.
From the trees, shadows erupted. Figures clad in dark, thorn-wrapped armor leapt from the mist, blades gleaming with sickly green poison. Their faces were hidden behind masks of bone and bark—forest assassins. Silent. Deadly. Not human. Not elf. Something… in between.
Aren drew his blade without hesitation, spinning from his horse and landing on the ground in a smooth, trained motion. This wasn't the first time he'd faced an ambush—but it was the first time his enemies didn't feel alive.
"They're not just enemies," Noah muttered beside him, eyes glowing faintly with magic. "They're constructs—half living, half cursed."
One of the orcs let out a guttural war cry and charged into the fray. The battle broke like a wave, metal clashing with magic, screams echoing into the sky.
Noah moved like a shadow, weaving between blades, his sword striking with surgical precision. Every motion he made felt rehearsed—as if he had fought these enemies before. As if he knew exactly how they moved.
Aren stayed close, his fighting more reactive, less refined—but he held his ground. The assassins were fast, but Aren was faster when it counted. His blade caught the edge of a mask, cracking it in two. The assassin fell to the ground, convulsing—its body dissolving into black mist.
"What the hell are they?" Aren shouted.
Noah's expression darkened. "They're Shadelings. Darkspawn puppets. I read about them… in the novel."
Aren blinked. "You mean the same novel—"
"Yes." Noah cut down another attacker, green mist splattering across the forest floor. "They're from the second arc. This is too early—they shouldn't be appearing yet."
The realization sent a chill through Aren. If these enemies were showing up ahead of schedule… then the story was breaking apart. Which meant one thing:
Someone—or something—was tampering with fate.
They fought until the last Shadeling fell, melting into the forest floor like ash in the wind. Silence returned, but it wasn't the same. It felt heavy now. Dreadful.
The group regrouped, bloodied but alive. A few orc guards had been injured, one fatally. Aren knelt by the fallen warrior, placing a hand over his chest in respect.
Noah stood over them all, staring at the trees, eyes cold and calculating. "We're running out of time. Whoever's pulling strings behind the scenes—they know we're forming alliances. And they're trying to stop it before it starts."
Aren swallowed hard. "You think the Shadelings were sent as a warning?"
"No," Noah said grimly. "They were sent to kill us."
He turned to Aren, his voice low. "We need to get to the elves next. If anyone knows how to stop dark magic, it's them. And if they refuse to join our alliance…"
Aren finished the sentence for him. "Then we may already be too late."
The sky above darkened as clouds gathered. In the distance, thunder rumbled—not just a storm, but a warning.
Their path forward was growing more dangerous by the hour. And though they had forged one alliance, the true battle had only just begun.