Thomas PoV

  Thomas crouched low, his knee pressed firmly against the earth. His gaze was fixed intently on the clearing ahead, where shadows danced among the towering silhouettes of trolls. The creatures lumbered about, unaware of the impending peril.

  With Jamie and Aldwin having slipped around to the far side to ignite the fire, Thomas had lost sight of them, the thick underbrush and undulating terrain obscuring his view. Minutes stretched like hours as he and his companions waited in silence. Then, at last, a thin line of dark smoke began to coil upward from the distant trees.

  As the moments ticked by, that wisp of smoke grew into a plume. The inky blackness spread like a shroud, creeping across the clearing and weaving between the trunks of oaks. The acrid scent of burning leaves and wood filled the air, a harbinger of the chaos to come. Visibility waned as the smoke thickened, cloaking everything in a murky haze.

  Thomas raised a hand to shield his eyes, squinting against the stinging fumes carried by the shifting winds. The smoke stung his throat, and he could hear the muffled, guttural roars of the trolls growing distant and frenzied. Their deep bellows echoed through the trees, tinged with confusion and rising desperation.

  "They must be trying to deal with the fire," Thomas murmured, a note of satisfaction in his voice. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Bertram and Camille, who crouched behind a fallen log nearby. Bertram met his gaze, his knuckles white as he griped his mace and shield firmly, while Camille gave a resolute nod.

  "Let's destroy the crystal," Thomas declared softly.

  Bertram hoisted his shield, bringing it close to his face. He began to advance, knees bent slightly, each step measured and silent. Thomas fell in behind him, weapon at the ready, his senses alert to every sound. Camille brought up the rear.

  "Stay focused, Bertram," Thomas instructed in a low tone. "If anything attacks, you're our line of defense."

  Bertram nodded, though the slight tremor in the arm bearing his shield betrayed a hint of trepidation. The weight of responsibility pressed upon him, but he steeled himself, muscles tense beneath his armor.

  The trio moved further into the swirling smoke. Thomas's heart thrummed in his chest, but his mind remained sharp. With every cautious step, he scanned their surroundings, keen eyes piercing through the gloom as best they could.

  Visibility was scarce; the smoke wrapped around them like a living entity, muffling sound, and warping perception. The distant crackle of the fire mingled with the earthy scent of the forest. Every rustle seemed amplified in the heavy air.

  Then, through the haze, they spotted it. A pulsating, reddish glow emanating from the center of the clearing. The Monster Crystal hovered several feet above the ground, suspended by some arcane force. It was larger than Thomas had anticipated, its facets sharp and gleaming, casting an eerie light that danced upon the surrounding smoke.

  "There it is," Thomas whispered, a mix of awe and urgency threading his voice.

  No trolls appeared to guard it; their attention was consumed by the encroaching fire. As they drew nearer, Bertram hesitated for the briefest of moments, his footfall pausing mid-step.

  Suddenly, a thunderous roar shattered the stillness. A visceral sound that seemed to shake the ground beneath them. The bellow emanated from the cavern to their left.

  "Defend!" Thomas shouted instinctively.

  Bertram barely had time to react before a massive, gnarled arm swung out from the shadows. The troll's limb was as thick as a tree trunk; its mottled skin stretched taut over bulging muscles. Bertram raised his shield just as the troll's arm crashed against it with bone-jarring force.

  Thomas instinctively leaped several steps backward, his boots skidding slightly on the forest floor as he regained his footing.

  Bertram, however, bore the brunt of the creature's wrath. Having raised his shield just in time, he absorbed the impact of the Troll's massive fist. The force sent him hurtling through the air, his form crashing into the underbrush and sliding several meters before coming to a painful halt. Leaves and dirt clung to his armor as he gasped for breath, momentarily stunned.

  "Camille, focus on the crystal! Bertram and I will hold off the Troll!" Thomas commanded, his voice sharp and resolute. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Bertram, weaving through the scattered debris of the forest floor.

  The Troll lumbered forward, a monstrous figure looming against the backdrop of smoke and shadow. It resembled the one they'd faced earlier; towering height, mottled gray-green skin, and eyes filled with primal rage. Yet, this one bore distinct characteristics that set it apart. Its arms were even more disproportionately long, nearly scraping the ground with each ponderous step. A long white beard cascaded down its chest, tangled and matted, giving it an ancient and almost regal appearance.

  ‘An elder Troll?’ The thought flashed through Thomas's mind as he closed the distance to Bertram. Such creatures were rare. They were less agile but more cunning and dangerous than their younger counterparts.

  Reaching Bertram, Thomas knelt beside him. "Are you alright? Can you stand?" he asked urgently, gripping Bertram's uninjured arm to help him rise.

  Bertram winced, his face pale and contorted with pain. "I—I think so," he managed, his voice strained. "My arm... I think it's broken." He cradled his left arm against his chest, fingers trembling as he tried to steady himself.

  The Troll advanced slowly, its heavy footsteps causing the ground beneath them to tremble slightly. Despite its intimidating presence, it moved with a sluggishness that suggested age or perhaps a lingering wound. This provided a sliver of opportunity.

  "We'll tend to your arm when we're safe," Thomas assured, his gaze flickering between Bertram and the approaching menace. "For now, we need to keep it occupied and pray that roar didn't call any more of its kin."

  Bertram nodded grimly, determination overshadowing his pain. "Understood."

  Drawing his short sword, Thomas tightened his grip around the hilt. "Ready?" he asked.

  "Ready as I'll ever be," Bertram replied, adjusting his stance despite the throbbing in his arm.

  They moved in unison, each circling to flank the Troll from opposite sides. The scent of burnt wood and earth hung heavy in the air, mingling with the musky odor emanating from the Troll.

  The creature swung its enormous arms wildly, swatting at shadows and stirring whirlwinds of leaves and dust. Thomas darted in, aiming a swift slash at the Troll's leg. His blade connected, but the thick hide turned what should have been a deep cut into a superficial scratch. Dark, sluggish blood oozed from the wound.

  Bertram attacked from the other side, thrusting his sword toward the Troll's ribs. The Troll roared with pain, before lashing out. Bertram barely managed to raise his shield in time, the impact sending a jolt through his already injured arm. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

  "Keep moving! Don't let it pin you down!" Thomas shouted, side-stepping another swipe.

  The elder Troll's rage intensified. Its milky eyes burned with a malevolent glow as it continued to regenerate the minor wounds almost as quickly as they were inflicted. Though its healing seemed slower than that of a younger Troll it was still faster than the damage they could deal.

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  Doubt gnawed at Thomas. 'What are we doing wrong? How can we stop this thing?' His mind raced, seeking a solution. 'What would Jamie do?'

  While Thomas was thinking, he took a quick look at how Camille was progressing with the crystal.

  Another troll loomed before Camille, barring her path to the crystal. This one was smaller than the others but no less formidable. Hunched and wiry, she clutched several tiny trolls close to her. A clutch of offspring with wide, curious eyes peering from behind tangled tufts of hair. Protective and fierce, the mother troll stood her ground.

  'A female,' Thomas realized, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation. 'Stayed behind to care for the young.' Yet despite this recognition, there was no room for pity in his heart. The fate of many rested on their success.

  Camille hesitated, tense as she weighed her options. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. The mother troll snarled, swinging a massive arm with surprising speed. Instinct overtook hesitation; Camille deftly sidestepped the sweeping limb, feeling the rush of air as it passed mere inches from her. Seizing the moment, she dashed forward, darting beneath the troll's reach. Her boots barely touched the ground as she sprinted toward the pulsating crystal that hovered at the center of the clearing.

  Skidding to a halt within striking distance, Camille raised her twin crossbows. Her breath steadied, vision tunneling as she honed in on her target. Fingers squeezed the triggers; two bolts zipped through the air, their flights whispering before they struck the crystal-dead center. A brief flash of hope flared within her.

  But the crystal did not shatter. Instead, the bolts lodged into its gleaming surface, quivering with the absorbed impact. The orb remained intact, its eerie glow mocking her efforts.

  "Keep attacking!" Thomas shouted from afar, his voice strained as he grappled with his own enemy. "You have to break it!"

  Camille nodded sharply, determination hardening her features. She stepped forward, only to have the trolless whirl upon her with a guttural roar. The creature's long arms lashed out wildly, creating a flurry of motion that forced Camille back. Each swing was a whirlwind, unpredictable and dangerous.

  "Quickly!"

  "Attack!"

  The shouts erupted from the edge of the forest. Out of the smoky haze emerged Jamie and Aldwin, sprinting toward the clearing with all the speed they could muster. Behind them, the ground shook as a pack of trolls thundered in pursuit. The beasts' heavy footfalls pounded like distant drums.

  Jamie and Aldwin clutched flaming branches. They waved the makeshift torches defensively, fending off the trolls and attempting to slow their advance. But the gap was closing rapidly; time was slipping through their fingers like sand.

  Thomas's heart clenched. He and Bertram were barely managing to contend with one elder troll; the arrival of reinforcements could be their doom. His mind raced, searching for a solution even as dread tightened its grip.

  A sudden, ethereal glow drew his gaze back to Camille. She had retreated several paces, positioning herself between the trolless and the crystal. Planting her feet firmly, she began to chant soft words. Her left hand lifted gracefully, fingers splayed as a shimmering, azure circle materialized around it. Intricate runes etched themselves into the air, orbiting her wrist like celestial bodies.

  The circle pulsed with energy, bathing her face in light. The runes brightened, then dissolved into streams of luminescence that coalesced at her fingertips, forming a single, radiant point.

  With a swift, precise motion, Camille released the spell. "Magic Missile," she whispered.

  The luminous dart streaked forth, slicing through the air with unerring accuracy. It struck the crystal exactly where one of her bolts remained embedded. The impact drove the bolt deeper, a resonant crack echoing as the crystal finally endured more than it could withstand.

  Fine fissures snaked outward from the point of contact, branching like veins across the crystal's multifaceted surface. The malevolent glow within flickered erratically, shadows warring with light.

  Camille took a cautious step back, eyes fixed on the crystal as the cracks expanded. The hum escalated into a sharp, crystalline ringing. Then, with a sound reminiscent of shattering ice, the crystal exploded. Shards sprayed outward, disintegrating into motes of light before they touched the ground.

  The trolls who had moments before fought with savage ferocity now stood frozen in place; their monstrous faces contorted with pain and despair. Agonized screams tore from their throats as they clutched at their ears and covered their eyes, the shattering of the Monster Crystal rendering them vulnerable and disoriented. The eerie screams echoed through the clearing, mingling with the fading glow of the fires.

  "Don't waste time," Jamie commanded, his voice cutting through the din like a blade. His eyes were steely with resolve as he drew the attention of his companions.

  Thomas turned toward their leader just in time to see Jamie holding a dagger over the flames of the torch he carried. The blade gleamed wickedly as it heated, the metal turning a sinister shade of orange. Without hesitation, Jamie strode directly toward the nearest troll, a hulking brute kneeling in pain. With a swift, unflinching motion, he plunged the fiery dagger into the creature's eye. The troll let out a guttural howl before collapsing heavily to the ground, the light in its remaining eye fading to darkness.

  Jamie’s decisive action woke the rest of the group. One by one, they followed his lead, moving methodically among the paralyzed trolls. Some wielded torches, setting the creatures alight, while others used blades to deliver quick, lethal fiery blows. They left none behind, ensuring that every troll was dispatched. The air grew thick with the acrid smell of smoke and the somber silence of death.

  Thomas was struck by how effortlessly the task unfolded. The trolls, once formidable adversaries, were now rendered helpless by the destruction of the crystal. They offered no resistance, unable to comprehend or react to the grim fate befalling them. It starkly contrasted to the fierce battle they had waged moments before.

  As the last troll fell, Thomas noticed Bertram standing before one of the cavern entrances. The young man's face was ashen, his eyes wide and unseeing, as if he had gazed upon something too horrible to fathom. Concerned, Thomas sheathed his sword and made his way toward him, the soft crunch of his footsteps muted against the backdrop of dying flames.

  "Bertram?" Thomas called gently as he approached. The flickering light cast shadows across Bertram's pale features, highlighting the fear etched there.

  Drawing nearer, Thomas peered into the cavern. The light revealed a heartbreaking sight: scattered across the earthen floor were piles of animal pelts, upon which rested troll children and babies. They were no larger than human toddlers yet bore all the hallmarks of their species: long, gangly arms, coarse greenish fur, and protruding, sharp teeth. The tiny creatures cooed and gurgled innocently, oblivious to the grim fate that had befallen their kin.

  "T-they don't need to be burned, right?" Bertram whispered, his voice barely audible and tinged with desperation. He looked to Thomas for any hint of reprieve, a silent plea hanging in the air.

  Thomas felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. The stark reality loomed between them; they both knew the harsh truths of their world. Leaving the young trolls alive could spell disaster in the future. Yet, the thought of extinguishing such innocent lives was a burden neither wished to bear.

  As Thomas grappled with his conflicted thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention. Jamie emerged from the shadows, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene. His gaze settled on the troll infants for a brief moment before shifting to Bertram.

  "Don't look," Jamie ordered quietly, his tone firm. "Throw the torch."

  Bertram's grip on the torch faltered. "B-but they're just children," he protested weakly, his voice strained. The torchlight trembled in his hand.

  Jamie stepped forward, kneeling to sift through a heap near the cave entrance. He rose, holding a handful of bones and a skull. Tiny, fragile, unmistakably human. "Children who consume humans," he said gravely, his eyes locking with Bertram's. "Trolls will show no mercy to our young. If you let them grow and one day they attack Hafenstadt, the blood of those innocent lives will be on your hands."

  He placed the bones gently back onto the pile, the weight of his words lingering heavily in the air. Without another glance, Jamie turned and walked away, his footsteps fading into the quiet that enveloped the forest.

  Bertram stood rooted to the spot, his face a portrait of inner turmoil. Thomas reached out a hand, but hesitated, unsure of how to offer comfort in the face of such a grim choice. Before he could speak, Bertram set his jaw, biting down hard on his lip until a bead of blood appeared. With a resolute, albeit pained expression, he hurled the torch into the depths of the cavern.

  The dry pelts caught fire swiftly, flames spreading hungrily across the makeshift nests. The infant trolls stirred, their soft murmurs rising into shrill cries as the heat intensified. Bertram turned away abruptly, his shoulders shaking as he fought to suppress the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms.

  Thomas watched him, a profound sadness settling over him. He wanted to offer solace, to find words that might ease the young man's burden, but none came. The crackling of the fire grew louder, consuming the sounds from within the cave.

  The guard sighed softly. He placed a tentative hand on Bertram's shoulder, a silent gesture of solidarity. Bertram did not turn, but the tension in his posture lessened slightly. Together, they stood facing away from the cavern, allowing the flames to carry away the harrowing images and echoes of what had been done.

  Farther ahead, the rest of the group waited for them.

  "Come," Thomas said gently to Bertram. "Let's join the others."

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