As they moved deeper, the fog thickened, curling like living smoke around the trees and their boots. Visibility shrank until the world felt compressed, heavy with silence—except for the soft, tense breathing of knights and the crunch of footsteps.
Solas's hand hovered near the hilt of his saber, ready. His eyes scanned the swirling gray ahead and behind.
He couldn't shake it—the scouts finding no trace of goblins, no tracks, no sounds… it was all wrong.
Like a trap laid bare.
Then—
Clink.
A dull metallic thud against the forest floor.
Solas turned just in time to see a knight collapse, an arrow embedded through her forehead.
He was right.
He drew his saber in a flash, body tensing for combat.
"They know we're here!" one of the knights shouted, panic slicing through the hush.
The formation shifted rapidly, the knights clustering tightly, weapons drawn, armor whispering as they formed a defensive circle, shields raised.
Vaelira's squad dropped into motion, forming a tight arrowhead formation behind Caerelinne, who stood at the front like a living spearpoint.
All crouched, bracing for what came next.
Behind Solas, Rowena trembled, pale and shaken. Nausea twisted her gut at the sudden death so close. But adrenaline surged through her limbs, keeping her upright, sword clutched tightly.
Caerelinne glanced back. "Do you hear where they're coming from?"
Vaelira's ears twitched. She shook her head. "No. I can't pinpoint it."
Selin gritted her teeth, eyes fixed forward, waiting for the word that would let her strike like lightning.
The rest of the squad readied themselves, nerves strung tight—except Nyra, who practically buzzed with anticipation, grinning faintly like she welcomed the chaos.
And then—
What had been one arrow became many.
A rain of death fell from the sky.
The arrows struck true.
Several knights fell, groaning in pain—some clutching shoulders, others unmoving, their lives ended in an instant.
A few arrows flew toward Vaelira's squad—but they never landed.
Caerelinne spun her spear in a graceful arc, the shaft flashing in the fog as she knocked away each arrow with practiced ease. Metal clanged against metal and wood splintered midair. Not one found its mark.
She cast a quick glance behind to check on her line. Everyone was intact.
"Vaelira!" she barked, her tone sharp. "You must've heard where that all came from!"
Vaelira nodded, calm but alert. "Yes—straight ahead. They're on wide branches, fifteen feet off the ground."
Solas watched from just behind, quietly observing. The precision. The discipline. And Vaelira's ears… like a wolf's. No detail escaped her.
Then Caerelinne closed her eyes.
She spun her spear again—slowly at first—then faster, the motion smooth, deliberate. Water began to materialize in the air around her, coiling in tendrils before hardening into sharp, glimmering blade-like forms.
Her eyes snapped open—deep blue, like the ocean beneath moonlight. She thrust the spear forward, aiming toward the trees where the arrows had flown from.
"Ite!" she shouted.
The water blades launched forward with deadly precision.
A moment later, screams echoed from the treetops—goblins shrieking in pain. Branches cracked and splintered. Flesh tore. Something fell hard to the ground.
Solas's eyes widened, stunned by the display.
That power—fluid yet brutal—wasn't ordinary.
Her Aspect could only mean one thing.
She was born under Lunar.
Vaelira stepped forward and placed a hand on Selin's shoulder. "Go. Finish off the rest."
Selin didn't speak. She simply nodded—and vanished into the fog like a blade unsheathed.
Selin moved quickly as the fog swallowed her whole. Each footstep was silent, swift. Her breath steady. Her body low.
She slipped through the forest like a shadow—through brush, over roots, around trunks thick as pillars. The cries of goblins ahead grew nearer. Clearer. Sharper.
Wounded. Dying. But still clinging to life.
Selin didn't waste a thought. Her hands gripped the hilts of her daggers—drawn in a single, fluid motion.
Clink.
The cold metal pulsed in her grip, hungry to meet flesh rather than air.
A high-pitched scream tore through the mist. "Hkkk—AAAGH!"
One goblin stumbled forward, dazed and shrieking, blood pouring from the stump where its arm had once been. It looked up—just in time to see her charging.
Selin lunged. Her arm snapped forward. Steel plunged into the goblin's eye, the blade sliding deep into its brain.
It convulsed.
Then crumpled to the ground—dead.
She tore the blade free without pause and moved toward the others.
The screech had drawn attention. Goblins further ahead turned, snarling, weapons raised. Selin's form emerged from the mist—daggers glinting, one already slick with blood.
The goblins barked in their guttural tongue, scrambling into stances. One raised a chipped short sword and charged.
Selin ducked beneath the wild swing, sliced through its wrist in one clean arc, then stabbed deep into the back of its skull.
Another came from the side.
She pivoted—stepped into its space—and slit its throat wide. The goblin gurgled, dropped its weapon, and collapsed, clutching its neck in a futile attempt to hold in life.
She stood over the twitching body, watching it cling to life. Then she moved on—silent, swift—hunting the last stragglers.
It didn't take long. One final goblin, still breathing, met the end of her blade. She drove the dagger into the top of its skull, twisted once, and let the body drop.
Selin exhaled softly, her shoulders rising and falling. Her blades hung at her sides, blood trailing down to the tips, dripping one red droplet at a time.
She glanced down at the corpse. She never enjoyed this part—never took pleasure in death. But if it came to protecting her friends or following Vaelira's orders, she didn't hesitate.
Her ears twitched. The sound of metal and footsteps reached her from the left—her allies, pressing forward toward the cavern.
"Wow, good job, Selin… you made quick work of them~" Lyssa's tail swayed with a pleased little wag as she approached.
Selin didn't respond. She simply walked past her, quiet as ever, falling back into formation. Her eyes met Vaelira's for a moment, who gave her a nod and a rare smile of approval.
"It's not fair! I wanted in on some of the action too…" Nyra pouted, arms crossed as she surveyed the aftermath.
"You'll get your fun soon," Elara muttered flatly, her expression unreadable.
"Good work, Selin," Caerelinne said without turning, her gaze fixed forward as she resumed the lead.
Rowena, still pale, looked around at the carnage—awed and unsettled by how quickly Caerelinne and Selin had turned a deadly ambush into a display of dominance.
Behind them, murmurs passed through the ranks of knights—pride, astonishment, whispers of how fortunate they were to fight alongside warriors like these.
And Solas—quiet, observant—took it all in with a slow, almost imperceptible smile.
This was what he had been seeking.
They continued their march, stepping over bodies and splintered branches—remnants of Caerelinne's earlier attack. Blood soaked the ground. The air still hummed with tension.
Solas glanced down at one of the fallen goblins, studying its still face. From the look of things, this was only the beginning.
There would be more.
The fog thickened again as they pushed deeper, the path narrowing as they approached the cavern.
Soon, they reached a small clearing within the forest.
"We're here," Caerelinne said sharply, her voice taut with caution.
Before them loomed the entrance to a cavern that yawned like a wound in the earth. In front of it stood a rough defensive structure—logs driven into the ground, sharpened to wicked points. The makeshift barricade wasn't tall, but it was dense enough to slow movement. Gaps between the logs formed natural chokepoints.
Two green banners flanked the entrance. A sword was stabbed through a skull beneath them—primitive, a warning.
But no goblins stood guard.
The area was silent, save for the faint whistle of wind through the trees.
Caerelinne raised a fist, bringing the column to a halt. She turned to face Vaelira's squad.
"They have orcs," she said, voice low and certain. "Most likely waiting inside the cave. Prepare yourselves."
The warning rippled down the line, each knight relaying the message with tight expressions and clenched weapons.
Solas's gaze fixed on the cavern. If the goblins had known their approach in advance…
Then a force was waiting.
Hidden in the dark.