The void-beast attacks the group. It doesn't kill them immediately—instead it seems to test James, as if recognizing him. The Dustcloaks fight back with everything they have, Mira leading the charge. Toren's alchemy wounds it, but not fatally. James attempts to banish it using traditional Void commands, but the creature resists. It finally flees after being injured.
Part I: Shattered Lines
The forest held its breath.
James took a single step forward, heart hammering, as the creature emerged from between the trees like a dream gone wrong. It was tall—twice a man's height—and its form shimmered like heat on stone, constantly shifting. Bones jutted from its back like broken wings, slick with something too dark to be blood. Its face, if it could be called that, was a mask of teeth and voidlight. And atop its elongated skull sat a crown—jagged, bone-white, fused to its flesh.
It looked at James.
Not at the others. Not the weapons drawn, the fear thick in the air. Just him.
"Back away slowly," Mira hissed, knives raised.
The beast tilted its head.
James didn't move. Couldn't. The whisper in his head was gone, replaced by a silence so complete it felt deafening. The Void was watching.
Then the creature took a step forward.
Lyssa loosed an arrow—it struck the beast's shoulder and disappeared into shadow. No wound. No blood. The beast blinked—slow, deliberate—and then lunged.
Chaos.
Mira was already moving, spinning low under its swing and slicing at the tendons of its leg. Sparks flew from her blade. Toren hurled a vial of flickering orange—fire burst across the beast's flank, searing flesh and evoking a roar that shook leaves from the trees.
James felt the Void surge inside him, a reflex, an instinct. He raised his hand and shouted the words of command, ancient syllables etched into royal bone:
"Vel'ar dominir! Inatra!"
The world dimmed.
For a moment, the shadows recoiled—and the beast halted.
Its body shuddered, limbs spasming like a puppet on cut strings. Then it turned its head toward James again, and for the first time... it smiled.
It shouldn't have been able to smile.
James took a step back.
The beast lunged—not at him, but at Toren. A blur of darkness. Toren barely rolled aside, landing hard with a cry.
Mira shouted something, but James didn't hear it. The words wouldn't form. The Void didn't obey.
The creature charged again—and this time, Lyssa darted forward, stabbing at its side with a blade glowing pale blue. It struck home, piercing the hide. The beast howled, reeling.
James raised his hand again, not to command, but to call—deep into the place he feared, into the roiling mass that pulsed beneath his ribs. The air thickened. Leaves curled. The beast snarled, backed away.
Then—without warning—it turned and vanished into the trees.
Silence.
Mira stood panting, hair plastered to her face with sweat and soot. Toren coughed from the ground. Lyssa scanned the woods, eyes still wild.
James lowered his hand, breath shaking.
It hadn't attacked him.
It had tested him.
And it had smiled.