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Steam still curled from Beric Dondarrion's shoulders, his newly rekindled body radiating heat like a forge.
Aeron tilted his head, violet eyes unblinking.
"Come forth."
The shadows around him trembled.
From the dark between the trees and the gloom beneath the snow-laden rocks, something stirred. A blur moved soundlessly across the white then another. Then more.
A pack emerged.
Four shadowcats, sleek and silent, their black fur rippling with unnatural shimmer, eyes glowing, bodies of shadow.
From behind them padded the beast a monstrous direwolf wrapped in tendrils of darkness, its violet gaze like twin lanterns of death.
Garm summoned again.
Except on his back crouched another. Clad in flowing black a wraith more than a man. Thin and agile. "No One." A faceless assassinn, shadow of the apostle of the many-faced god. Featureless.
He never spoke, only nodded once at Aeron.
Aeron gave them a small, wolfish grin. "Sniff out the coward in the woods. I know a priest of the Red God is lurking nearby... Find them." His tone dropped with quiet certainty. "Now."
Garm gave a low growl like thunder. Then, as if the trees themselves parted for them, the pack vanished. Silent and swift.
Beric stood, posture tense, but not yet moving to strike.
He narrowed his eyes. "Of course you knew about this.. That without my Lord's eye upon me… I would not rise again, it is expected from the enemy of the Red God to know such things."
Aeron smiled wider, flexing the new gauntlets upon his hands The Gauntlets of the Warrior.
"Actually," Aeron said, voice thick with sarcasm, "that's not how I know. But I doubt you'd believe me if I told you."
He tilted his head. "Let's just say… I'm well informed."
Beric's gaze flickered, trying to pierce the meaning in those words. But before he could form a retort.
Aeron moved.
Like a bolt fired from a god's crossbow. His body blurred with the speed of shadows.
Beric raised his flaming bladea bit too late, the impact shattering the frost beneath them, a clash of holy flame and abyssal mightthe shockwave rippled through the trees.
Aeron was laughing. Low and cold.
He swung again and again and the forest itself became their arena. One wreathed in darkness, and the other a never ending flame.
And deep in haunted forest , the hounds of the Shadow Monarch were already hunting their prey.
****
Deep within the cave, the roots of the ancient weirwood tree twisted like veins, pulsing faintly in the gloom. The light was very dim, the silence was gone, the distant sounds of the forest, sounds that were no longer natural echoed here.
The very air trembled. A ripple of force passed through the stone, followed by a faint boom, like a mountain had exhaled fire.
The Children of the Forest were in fear, One of them, a small one with tired eyes, turned to the throne of tangled roots where the Three-Eyed Raven sat, unmoving.
"What do we do?" she asked, voice taut with anxiety.
Another, older than her, shook their head. "Should we aid one of them? The fire-bringer or the shadow?"
A third hissed, flicking their gaze to the echoing tunnel mouth. "Which one? I trust no human."
The Three-Eyed Raven finally stirred. His pale, eyes, barely distinguishable from the twisted root he had fused with, opened fully.
"Neither," he said.
His voice was low, hoarse.
The cave fell quiet again, save for the thundering chaos beyond the stone.
"This is how it must be," the Raven said, more to the weirwood than to them. "No hand can guide the storm once it's begun. The branches must break where they must. The roots will remember."
"Should we remain idle here…" one of them murmured. "and wait for one of them to come here and kill us?"
"Fear not," the Raven said simply. "this path was carved long before you or I could dream it. The future is already written."
The Children exchanged worried glances, but none of them questioned him further. They knew well enough what the weight of fate felt like.
As silence settled once more, the Raven's eyes glossed over, and his mind slipped from his broken body into the ether.
A black-feathered raven nearby stiffened, its head twitching unnaturally. Then it took flight, streaking through the air like an arrow, eyes glowing faintly with borrowed sight.
Through the bird's vision, he soared above the trees, faster than the wind. The night forest sprawled beneath him, stars scattered above like shattered glass.
And then he saw it clearly.
A white horse, galloping through the snow a solitary rider wrapped in red and gold, hair streaming behind her like fire. Her face calm, lips moving in silent prayer. A red priestess.
But death was closing in.
From behind, bounding through the trees at terrifying speed, was a massive shadow-drenched direwolf, its body cloaked in black mist and violet flame. Its glowing eyes were fixed on her like a predator that knew no mercy.
Even through the eyes of the bird, the Raven could feel it a hunt ordained by something greater.
The Raven's voice whispered faintly in his real body. "So it begins…"
****
The forest screamed with sense of dread, Snow lifted in a wave of frost as Garm the monstrous shadow direwolf emerged from the darkness like a phantom.
The white horse beneath the red priestess had only the briefest moment to shriek high and terrified before it was gone.
A violent snap, followed by a shower of steaming blood across the pale snow.
Garm's jaws crushed bone, snapping the warhorse's spine mid-leap, lifting it off the ground like a rag. The beast's scream died in a wet gurgle, and Garm tossed the corpse aside with contempt. The priestess tumbled violently to the snow, rolling, her red robes tearing as she crashed into a patch of frost and broken pine.
She gasped, trying to rise.
Then.
A foot stepped on her hand.
Heavy, Crushing.
She froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
The figure above her cast no shadow… because he was the shadow.
"You..." she whispered, eyes wide with dawning horror.
Her gaze slowly lifted, up dark boots soaked in snowmelt and blood, up a tall frame clad in black and steel, and finally, up to those terrible violet eyes, glowing faintly in the night.
He didn't smile. He simply looked down at her, head slightly tilted.
To her, it was as if death itself had found a face.
****
Beric Dondarrion's body shook violently as Aeron's gauntleted fist punched clean through his chest, the divine metal sizzling against the living fire of his form.
A gasp escaped Beric's lips as divine flame sputtered from the wound. He trembled, knees buckling.
"How much is it this time? Bastard even decapitated reattached his head with flames.." Aeron murmured darkly, eyes gleaming violet as he looked at the burnt, broken body still somehow clinging to life. "Death number five?" he asked mockingly. "I've lost count."
And then Aeron froze.
His head snapped slightly to the side, his stare shifting, widening with violet brilliance.
His voice dropped low. "Found her…Interesting so it's The Red Woman.."
A simple thought summoned a figure behind him. A shape stepped forth from shadow, an red cloaked assassin.
Veydris of Asshai.
Pitch-black shadow marked by ancient runes glowing faintly with red light. A blade his waist. Deadly, The Apostle of The Shadow Gods of Ashai was eager for blood.
Aeron's voice came, not to his ears but his shadow soldier's mind.
"Keep him busy."
Veydris did not nod. he simply turned his head toward the still-sparking form of Beric Dondarrion, whose body was once again twitching with light, rising from death with shaking limbs and fire leaking from his every pore.
Aeron stood tall, "I'll be right back for you, Beric," he said over his shoulder without looking. "Try not to melt before then."
Then he vanished amidst black smoke and frost.
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
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