She heard the howls of the storm intensify, and she looked behind her at the spluttering forge. Only the fire and the rain, two of mother nature’s primordial gods, prevented the group from knowing that her heart was thundering in her chest.

  “This is it,” Anara muttered, her fingers twitching at her sides. “Once we step out, there’s no going back.”

  “We’re with you,” Larkin said, nodding firmly like a boy not knowing the true dangers that lurk in the world, “You don’t have to do this alone.”

  “Let’s get this over with,” said Bram, yawning. “I’m hungry.”

  “Why haven’t they barged in yet?” asked Mira worriedly, clutching the Soulrend in her signature reverse-grip. “The door’s wide open.”

  “It’s not their style,” replied Anara. “They want willing... sacrifices.”

  “Barbarians!” cried Bram and Larkin, looking at the enchanteress with shock.

  “I sense something,” Mira said, narrowing her eyes.

  Peering into the dark corridor, the thief saw a pair of yellow eyes approaching slowly. They grew bigger and bigger, until they came face to face with the group. Despite the glow of the forge, only the sickly eyes of the creature could be seen.

  “I speak on behalf of the Obsidian Watch,” it said authoritatively, “Anara, come with us. The storm demands it. You cannot resist your fate.”

  All were stunned, except for Anara, who had seen enough of their tricks for a lifetime. “I’m not going with you. Not this time, and I never will again.”

  The floating eyes moved glacially forward. “You have no choice. Come willingly, and the storm will show mercy. Resist and you will be torn apart.”

  Anara seemed unphased by the threat. She stood her ground, gazing at the giant, dangling orbs. Larkin noticed this courage, and he raised his Hammer. Bram shifted himself between Anara and the creature, his grip tightening on his sword’s hilt.

  “You’ll have to get through me, first,” said Bram with a scowl.

  “How dare you come into my forge?” said Larkin.

  Suddenly, two more pairs, one on each side of the leader, appeared. This time, however, the firelight illuminated their vegetative bodies. Bram and Larkin shuddered; their faces instantly grew pale.

  “Sick,” said Mira in disgust.

  “Now you know why I was hesitant to answer their call,” said Anara.

  “Demonic creatures,” swore Bram, shaking his head.

  Larkin was speechless, utterly overwhelmed by the sight of their green, vertebral torsos. He faltered slightly. They looked like sunflowers, except with no head – only eyes which shone translucently.

  “The storm will always find you, Anara,” he said.

  “I won’t let you lay a finger on her!” cried Larkin.

  The leader raised his hand, revealing his own silver gauntlet in the firelight. The air around it distorted, as though one looked at it through broken glass, and Larkin felt all the heat sap out of the forge. Suddenly, a blast of wind erupted from the doorway, shattering the boy’s eardrums. He covered his ears.

  “Attack them but leave Anara alive,” the leader commanded callously.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” roared Bram, pushing off with his feet towards the monster. He swung his sword and slashed at where he thought the neck was – but it passed through like it was just a shadow.

  Dumbfounded, but knowing the value that even a fraction of a second in battle can provide, Bram tore through his list of Novice skills in his head.

  For a moment, the pupils in his eyes disappeared, leaving only the whites of his eyes on display. He quickly scanned the chamber. Anara’s hands were glowing. Instantly, he figured out what his skill, Tactical Awareness, was trying to say.

  “He can’t be attacked!” he cried, stepping quickly back. “Anara, you’ll need to enchant my weapon or something.”

  “Well, it’s a bit too late for that!” retorted Anara exasperatedly.

  “Go!” Larkin cried, gesturing with his head backwards.

  Bram looked to where he was indicating and saw that he was referring to the anvil.

  “Mira and I will hold them off while Anara enchants your sword,” Larkin said.

  “I’ll be back,” said Bram, looking uneasily at the boy as he ran to join Anara at the anvil.

  Their eyes fell upon the stormshale.

  “Will this work?” Bram asked.

  “We better hope,” Anara said breathlessly.

  Bram grinned.

  One of the Obsidian guards attacked Mira with his armoured fist, screaming: “Give us Anara!”

  Mira darted to the side with ease. Her Adept Agility attribute allowed such maneuvers in combat. With the activation of her Novice skill, Stealth, she vanished instantly into the shadowy corner of the forge, slipping behind enemy lines like a loose leaf in the wind; her thoughts ran wild. She wondered frantically about the leader’s weakness, and what enchantment held their silver gauntlets together.

  One of the creature’s eyes shifted to Larkin’s Hammer. “That doesn’t belong to you,” it said.

  Larkin shuddered, unable to move a single limb. He watched helplessly as the monster swiped for his Hammer.

  Suddenly, Bram charged into the creature like a bull, sending him crashing into the wall. Although he was without a weapon, he nevertheless stood his ground in front of the boy he had sworn to protect. His face hardened.

  “Careful!” cried Larkin, noting that the warrior’s sword was still with Anara at the back of the chamber.

  “Stay back!” Bram yelled. He pounded his fists together. “Iron Ward!”

  At once a white, blinding shield projected out of the man’s heart, encasing the pair in its domic structure. Bram flinched as soon as he had activated it, clutching his jerking heart as though it wanted to escape the oncoming train wreck. Lifting his eyes, he saw the gauntlet collide with the shield. His knees buckled, and he almost fell as though the fist had struck him. Raising his head, he grinned at the enemy.

  “Is that all you got?” Bram sneered.

  As the two Obsidian guards pounded away mercilessly at the forcefield, the leader raised its gauntlet; the air around it began to distort further, drawing in the energy from the surroundings. Slowly, a white, spiky smile spread across its shadowy face.

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  “Oh,” Bram said, his own smile fading, “I guess not.”

  After a few seconds, despite the raging fire behind them, a giant chill swept through the chamber. Bram quickly looked at Anara. Her tattooed insignia was still aglow in its runic fire.

  “It’s... not... going... in!” cried Anara.

  Before Bram could reply, his heart panged. The dome cracked before his very eyes, sending shockwaves through the chamber and sending both Larkin and Anara to the ground. Mira was nowhere to be seen. Bram glanced over his shoulder and saw the culprit retract its fist for a second time. A cold sweat ran down his eyes. His mind worked but came up short. With a grimace, he braced for impact.

  The leader swung for the shield. Bram felt it immediately. The dome shattered like a thousand bricks, and Bram was thrown to the ground. He felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. Nevertheless, the warrior rose to his feet, reeling from the blow.

  “Larkin!” shouted Anara.

  The blacksmith’s eyes jerked to the anvil, his chest heaving and his Hammer slowly slipping from his grip; they then fell onto the sword, and he saw the stormshale encased in its silver and on the hilt.

  “Throw it to me!” he commanded.

  As quickly as Larkin received it, Bram had it in his hands.

  The warrior wasted no time inspecting the modified weapon; even though he did not believe in magic, he reasoned that whatever Larkin was willing to risk imprisonment for was worth trying. He raised his eyes from the blade and concentrated on the shadowy monsters.

  Sensing an opening using his Tactical Awareness skill, Bram hurled himself forward, pushing through the wall of stem-like bodyguards erected in front of the leader. With a pivot of the heel, he spun and slashed at the cloaked leader’s torso. But the monster quickly raised its distorted gauntlet, intercepting the strike with ease. His sword clashed with it, and the giant clang travelled right through his body, rattling his bones like a band of percussion instruments; the force knocked him back several feet. It took all his effort to remain on his feet, but he remained in the fight. His face confirmed it.

  “Are you okay, Bram?” asked Larkin, his teeth chattering.

  When he did not hear a reply, Larkin lifted his eyes and saw that a dark cloud had passed over the warrior's brow. Despite the setback, Bram remained in front of him, his greatsword at the ready.

  “Keep at it!” Larkin shouted. “Anara said that the stormshale is a light material.”

  “What does that mean?” replied Bram with a grimace, his eyes darting between the three monsters. “You know that I’m not interested in this stuff.”

  Larkin shrugged. “Neither am I.”

  Bram looked at him as though he was crazy.

  “What?”

  “You... don’t know what the stuff that you hired me to defend you for...is for?” Bram asked, dumbfounded.

  “Less talking, more fighting!” commanded Larkin.

  Bram laughed. “We’re going to have words, boy, when we get out of here.”

  Just as he was about to leap into the fray again, Bram's eyes caught a flash of light: Mira’s Soulrend blinked into view over the leader’s shoulder. She aimed for its eyes – the only palpable feature - and struck. But as quick and as surprising the movement was, the leader matched it; with the agility of a cheetah, its head snapped back; and those sickly eyes watched the blade pass over it as though a great distance was between them. All the while, its gauntlet hung at its side, charging with dark energy. When Mira noticed the black cloud swirling above the knuckles, it was too late. The monster quickly twisted at the torso, before whipping back around, swinging its fist upwards into the girl’s chin. The brutal impact sent Mira flying across the chamber.

  All throughout the time she spent in the air, she regretted ever meeting Larkin that day. If she hadn’t ignored her instincts, her jaw would still be intact. Her body slammed into the wall brutally and then fell onto the floor with a heavy thud. She lay there unmoving.

  “Mira!” cried Larkin, his cheeks flushed with anger. Suddenly, his eyes burst with gold and his grip strangled the Hammer.

  With the Hammer of the Eternal Forge in his hand, he struggled to his feet, rushed towards the leader, and, forgetting in his blind rage their spectral link, threw the Hammer at its head. But the leader once again thwarted the attack with its gauntlet, deflecting the Hammer with confidence.

  “Let me at him,” shouted Bram, pulling the boy back by the shoulder.

  But before the warrior could activate his Power Strike, the Obsidian member on his right punched him; the force catapulted him into the wall instantly, and he collapsed, dropping the greatsword with a clang. Dust spat out of the wall, covering his body. Already weakened from the use of his Iron Ward, Bram could barely lift his head, nor could he feel his hands or legs. All he could do now was think, trapped in an immortal, but drained body. With one last roar, however, he strained to get up and continue the fight, for he was a man of honour, but his body, though it looked strong and healthy, simply refused to obey its master.

  “Bram!” cried Larkin, “Get up!”

  The fiend came upon him; it raised its gauntlet over his head, intending to smash the man’s skull, when a knowing smile appeared on its face. Its eyes similarly had that look which told of something human, and yet not. A silence followed, wherein the creature was in apparent thought.

  “We are just here for the woman,” the leader said, pointing to Anara.

  “But... but I’m hungry,” it whined, turning its ugly head to its master.

  “If you eat him then I want that one,” the other guard said, pointing to Mira.

  “Eat this!” Bram cried, grabbing his sword and slashing the monster in two.

  Splattered in vile, green blood, Bram rose to his feet, his bloodshot eyes focused on the leader. He laughed, kicked the vegetable corpse away, and wiped the cold sweat collected on his brow. His muscles tensed, and he raised his sword to the ceiling. For a moment, Larkin’s eyes were pulled from the creature to the white, shining sword as it crackled with energy, and he was filled with confidence. With his heart lifted and his face contorted in concentration, he swung his Hammer at the monster’s head savagely.

  But the guard blocked it with its gauntlet; its eyes flashed and a malicious smile on its face emerged, before bursting open and, like a shark, biting at the boy. Larkin stood dumbly, terror rising to his own eyes like a flame as the world went dark.

  At that moment, Mira lifted her head and saw Larkin’s own disappear into the monster’s. “No!” she cried, “Larkin, don’t die!”

  “Hey, sunflower!” shouted Bram, charging with his greatsword towards the demon, “the boy is off tonight’s menu unfortunately!”

  Bram came up beside the creature and chopped its neck. Its decapitated head sank further onto Larkin’s shoulders, and, in any other circumstance, Bram would have erupted into laughter at the sight, for the boy looked like a headless, green chicken. But as things stood, he did not.

  “Get this thing off me!” cried Larkin, flailing his arms in exasperation.

  “You suit it, lad,” said Bram with a smirk. He then whirled around, his greatsword dripping with vertebral guts, and glared at the leader. “We’re in for a world of hurt once we’re outside,” he added.

  “Why?” Larkin asked.

  “I’ve fought my fair share of Inhumans in my lifetime,” said Bram, his fingers twitching around the hilt of his glowing greatsword, “and, although their bodies can be slain, their mind cannot be. They remember with vengeance.”

  “I started this; so, I will finish it,” cried Anara.

  “You wouldn’t have to if I could just get a hit on the thing,” said Bram with a grimace, “but it’s too fast.”

  “I’ll distract it, then,” Larkin said. “I’ve brought you all here together, and I’ve done nothing so far to help any of you.”

  “And how are you going to achieve that?” snorted Bram. “Neither you nor Anara are combat classes. You should stay in your own lane, boy,” he growled.

  Larkin smirked. “It’s a pity Mira isn’t awake right now,” he said, his face animated, “because she’d tell you off.”

  “Who says I’m slouching?” said Mira, rising to her feet. She clutched her side as she stumbled toward the group. The girl’s eyes flickered with hatred. “I’m a combat class. Let me at it.”

  Larkin gripped her wrist and pulled her back. “You can’t go,” he said.

  Mira yanked her hand away and scowled. “You’re not the boss of me,” she sneered, wiping the blood from her lips. She then stared contemptuously at the leader. “I’ll kill you – you demon!” she screeched.

  “I’d like to see you try,” snarled the leader.

  "It’s time to end this,” said Mira, clutching the hilt of the Soulrend.

  "There, there little girl – watch the boy,” demanded the warrior, furrowing his brows, “let the warrior do his job.” He faced the leader of the Obsidian Watch, and, with trembling hands, he pulled out a vial from his belt, uncorked it and drank its contents. His expression relaxed. “No more children will die on my watch... no more.”

  “Come on. I have to learn how to fight,” Larkin said, glancing at Mira, “...to protect my friends.”

  “You can’t defeat him on your own, Bram,” Anara yelled.

  “But to let children fight... It’s unthinkable.”

  “What’s unthinkable about that?” Mira interjected.

  “Bram,” Larkin said, “I may not fight like you...yet... but that doesn’t mean I can’t plan the attack.”

  “A little general, aye?” grinned Bram.

  “Don’t forget that I employed you to protect me-”

  “And that is what I am doing.”

  “Use your Tactical Awareness skill on the leader,” commanded Larkin.

  Bram rolled his eyes. “I was going to do that!”

  “You are obviously missing something because he’s countering your strikes,” Larkin said.

  “Oh, how astute!” exclaimed the warrior sarcastically. With the raise of his sword, he started channeling his Power Strike.

  “What if we attack it at the same time?” suggested Mira with a shrug.

  “But your blade isn’t enchanted with stormshale,” said Anara.

  “It doesn’t know that,” whispered Mira, unsheathing her Soulrend.

  “You’re the weakest of us all!” Larkin cried. “One hit and you’re out.”

  “Thanks, Larkin,” said Mira with a sharp glare.

  “No, I mean-”

  Suddenly, laughter rang out from across the forge, replaced soon by the crying of the storm outside.

  “You haven’t seen the last of me,” it hissed, “nor the storm that has been unleashed on Anara’s life. But you, Larkin Forgeheart, have made an enemy of the Obsidian Watch.”

  Without warning, it vanished.