Chapter 3: The First Blood
Night descended on the northern perimeter, swallowing the forest in thick shadows. Lanterns swung weakly in the cold wind, casting erratic glows across the damp earth. Aric paced along the wooden palisade, his armor clinking softly with each step. He had stationed sentries at every likely entry point, but the unease in his chest refused to fade. The strange symbols, the missing men, and the whispers in the mist—they all signaled that the threat was not only real but intelligent.
Kael approached quietly, his horse breathing heavily. "Commander, all patrols report in. Everyone's on high alert."
"Good," Aric replied, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. "Stay vigilant. These shadows are cunning—they won't reveal themselves until they have the advantage."
The wind carried faint noises, almost like a low murmur weaving through the trees. Aric stiffened. The forest was alive with sound, but something unnatural lurked beneath it. A sudden rustle drew his attention to a small clearing ahead. The mist swirled unnaturally around the ground, and then he saw it—movement, subtle and deliberate.
"Prepare yourselves!" he commanded, raising his sword. "Do not fire until I give the signal!"
From the shadows emerged figures, their forms indistinct in the fog. They moved like wraiths, silent and precise, circling the perimeter with inhuman grace. Aric counted at least six, possibly more, hidden in the mist. Their eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the dim lantern light.
"Attack!" he roared. The legionnaires moved in coordinated formation, shields raised and swords drawn. The first clash was brutal. Blades met flesh, and cries of pain echoed through the trees. Aric swung his sword with precision, cutting down one of the shadowy figures. But as it fell, it dissolved into smoke, leaving behind only a faint wisp of darkness.
"What sorcery is this?" whispered Lysandra, her voice trembling as she struck down another figure.
Aric gritted his teeth. "They are not men. They are illusions…or spirits. Keep your focus. Hit where you see them, and do not falter."
The battle raged for what felt like hours. Every strike Aric delivered seemed to only delay the inevitable, as more figures emerged from the fog, relentless and silent. The ground became slick with mud and blood, and the acrid scent of iron mixed with the damp air.
Kael returned, dragging a fallen soldier. "Commander, we can't hold them much longer. They come from all sides!"
Aric's mind raced. He knew the perimeter could not withstand a prolonged attack. They needed a strategy, a way to turn the tide. He scanned the clearing and noticed the strange symbols etched on the trees. Perhaps they were tied to the enemy's power.
"Focus on the markings!" he shouted. "Strike the trees, break their anchors!"
The legionnaires hesitated, but seeing Aric's unwavering resolve, they obeyed. Swords clanged against bark, shattering the carvings. A low, echoing wail filled the forest, and the shadowy figures recoiled, their forms flickering as the symbols cracked and splintered.
But the victory was temporary. From the deepest part of the mist, a larger figure emerged, towering above the rest. Its eyes burned with an unnatural light, and its presence radiated malevolence. The soldiers froze, terror gripping them as the creature stepped forward with deliberate slowness.
Aric met its gaze and felt a chill crawl up his spine. He gripped his sword tighter, knuckles whitening. "We will not yield," he declared, voice echoing through the mist.
The figure raised a massive arm, and with a gesture, the remaining shadows surged forward in unison. Aric knew this battle would test the Legion in ways they had never imagined. The night was far from over, and the first blood had been spilled.