Kael was shocked and devastated that two of his friends were fighting Because of him but he had to let go Anyways so.
Captain daric came later that same day and told they a nest had opened nearby that all of them including him had to clear it they drifted to the location.
The ground quaked under their boots, the air choked with acrid smoke and iron tang. Seethe by the dozens lay scattered — some twitching in slow death, others crawling, jaws clacking, desperate to keep fighting.
Kael pulled his blade free from one's skull. Steam curled from the open wound where the metal had seared through. His breath came heavy, not just from the exertion — but from the dreadborn inside him, gnashing, howling for release.
> Not yet, Kael told it. Not here. Not while they're watching.
A scream shattered the smoky dark.
A Dominion soldier, one of Daric's newer recruits, was ripped clean in half. The thing that killed him — the Graven — was unlike the usual Seethe. Its skin was armored in jagged obsidian plates, its maw stretching far too wide, eyes tiny and ember-red. Each lumbering step crushed broken weapons and severed limbs alike.
"Form up!" Daric roared. His blade was already slick with gore. "Shield left, polearms right — Ayla, with me!"
They moved like they'd drilled a thousand times. But the Graven was no mindless crawler. It twisted, feinted — a blur of brute force — and slammed its claw into Ayla's shield, sending her flying. She crashed against Garrick, both going down in a heap.
Kael was already sprinting. Lyren too.
But Daric got there first.
He drove his blade deep into the Graven's exposed joint, earning a scream that sounded like molten stone fracturing. Then the Graven twisted — unnaturally fast for its size — and clamped its maw around Daric's torso.
Time seemed to halt.
Daric's eyes went wide, surprise more than fear. Blood erupted from his mouth. His hand opened and his sword fell, clanging uselessly to the stone.
Kael's roar wasn't human.
The dreadborn flooded his veins, muscles bulging, bones shifting. He slammed into the Graven with enough force to crack its armor. Claws he didn't remember growing raked across its hide, tearing deep rents.
The Graven shrieked, tried to pivot, but Kael was already on its back, jaws snapping. It didn't matter that they were in the open, that the squad might see — he tore into it, teeth finding the gap Daric had opened, and ripped until black ichor sprayed like a burst artery.
When it finally fell, shuddering, Kael stood over it — half-shifted, blood dripping from monstrous fangs. His eyes found Daric's broken body. Still. Lifeless.
Slowly, painfully, he wrestled the dreadborn back under control. Flesh rippled, claws receded. The power inside hissed resentfully but obeyed. Kael collapsed to his knees, breath ragged.
Lyren staggered up, dropped to his knees beside Daric.
"He's gone…" The words left him hollow. Ayla was sobbing, hands pressed to her helmet. Garrick just stood there, mouth open, shaking his head.
Toma's face was harder to read — anger, guilt, even a flicker of fear.
Kael clenched his fists until his nails drew blood.
"This is on me," he rasped.
Lyren looked up, fury and grief mingled. "No. This is on the Seethe. On the damned Dominion for sending us here with shit intel."
Kael didn't argue. Couldn't. The blight around them crept ever closer, veins of rot spreading across the ground like eager fingers.
Lyren staggered up, dropped to his knees beside Daric.
"He's gone…" The words left him hollow. Ayla was sobbing, hands pressed to her helmet. Garrick just stood there, mouth open, shaking his head.
Toma's face was harder to read — anger, guilt, even a flicker of fear.
Kael clenched his fists until his nails drew blood.
"This is on me," he rasped.
Lyren looked up, fury and grief mingled. "No. This is on the Seethe. On the damned Dominion for sending us here with shit intel."
Kael didn't argue. Couldn't. The blight around them crept ever closer, veins of rot spreading across the ground like eager fingers.
The air after the battle felt dead, as if even the wind feared to disturb the horror left behind. Crows circled overhead, drawn by the scent of torn flesh, their cries echoing through the valley. Ayla tried shooing them off, but they only flapped lazily to another branch and watched, black eyes glinting.
Kael found himself staring at Daric's broken sword where it lay, half-buried in dirt stained almost black with blood. He crouched, picked it up, and ran a thumb along the groove of its blade. It had always seemed too heavy for Kael when he trained under Daric's watch. Now it felt like paper. His throat tightened painfully.
Nearby, Lyren dropped to a knee, shoulders slumping as if crushed under invisible weight. "He was supposed to make it through this," he muttered, more to the ground than to anyone. "Daric always did. Always found a way. Bastard was too stubborn to die."
Nell moved around like she was sleepwalking, gathering up the personal tags of the dead Dominion soldiers. Her hands trembled, metal clinking together in a ghostly rattle. Garrick reached for her shoulder, then thought better of it and stepped back, his eyes downcast.
As the makeshift funeral flames rose, Ayla stood rigid, her breath coming in small, broken huffs. Without warning, she slammed her fist into her chest plate again and again, a muted clang each time. Kael couldn't look away. Each strike seemed to shake her whole body, as if trying to hammer her grief deeper where no one could see.
Kael finally turned from them all. He moved to the edge of the clearing where the blight was creeping forward, delicate tendrils of rot lacing through the underbrush. The dreadborn inside stirred, whispering promises of power, of vengeance, of ending this forever. He clenched his fists until he felt the sting of nails biting flesh, silently daring the thing inside him to try and take over again.