Tyros tightened the straps of his sword belt, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The ominous storm clouds from his vision had begun to gather in real life, swirling above the Ironwood Forest. It wasn’t just an ordinary storm—lightning crackled with unnatural hues of green and purple, illuminating the twisted shadows of ancient trees.

  As the first drops of rain fell, they sizzled against his armor, a sharp reminder that this was no ordinary weather. He took a deep breath, his hand resting on the hilt of Vermilion, his enchanted blade forged in the heart of Eldra’s volcanic forges.

  The three stood side by side, their breathing heavy as the echoes of their combined attack dissipated into the stillness. The forest around them was a shattered wasteland of scorched earth and splintered trees, evidence of the storm’s unnatural wrath—and their desperate countermeasure.

  “That voice,” Tyros muttered, his grip still tight on Vermilion. “It wasn’t just taunting us. It felt... aware.”

  Azra rubbed her temples, her storm-weaving energy ebbing as exhaustion set in. “No kidding. Whatever’s behind this storm, it’s not just sending monsters after us—it’s testing us.”

  “Well, I’m not exactly keen on being a guinea pig,” Lyle snapped, slinging his bow over his shoulder. He glanced at the scorched clearing, his sharp eyes catching the faintest traces of movement in the shadows. “And it doesn’t look like we’re getting a break.”

  From the edges of the destruction, shapes began to reform—molten fragments coalescing into grotesque figures. This time, the creatures’ forms were even more terrifying: twisted amalgamations of jagged crystal and pulsating shadows. They moved faster, more coordinated, their glowing eyes locked on the trio.

  Azra’s voice broke the silence. “They’re evolving.”

  “No time for observations!” Tyros growled, stepping forward and igniting Vermilion once again. The blade roared to life, flames cascading along its edge. “We end them here.”

  As the creatures surged forward, the trio fell into a tense rhythm. Tyros led the charge, his blade carving arcs of fire that momentarily slowed the advancing horde. Azra followed close behind, unleashing concentrated bursts of wind and lightning to scatter their attackers. Lyle hung back, his arrows flying with pinpoint precision, each one imbued with a faint green aura that crackled as it struck its target.

  Despite their efforts, the creatures kept coming.

  Azra’s frustration boiled over. “They’re not stopping! Even with our powers combined, it’s not enough to destroy them completely!”

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  “Then we fight smarter,” Lyle snapped, loosing another arrow that pinned a creature to a tree. “There’s always a weakness.”

  “We don’t have time to figure it out,” Tyros barked. He swung Vermilion in a wide arc, a burst of flame creating a temporary barrier. “Kaella was right—these things aren’t natural. They’re connected to the storm itself.”

  Azra’s eyes widened as a realization struck her. “The storm… It’s feeding them.”

  “Meaning?” Lyle demanded, pulling another arrow from his quiver.

  “Meaning we cut off the storm’s source,” Azra said, her voice firm. She turned her gaze upward, toward the swirling vortex of light and shadow that had reformed above them. “We need to hit that with everything we’ve got.”

  With no time to argue, the group shifted their focus to the sky. Azra closed her eyes, summoning every ounce of her remaining energy. The winds around her intensified, forming a spiraling column that lifted her into the air. “I’ll distract the storm! You two figure out how to hit it where it hurts!”

  Lyle frowned, notching another arrow. “No pressure, huh?”

  As Azra ascended, the storm seemed to react, tendrils of dark energy lashing out at her. She dodged and weaved through the onslaught, her movements precise and deliberate. With each burst of wind she unleashed, the storm hesitated, its energy faltering ever so slightly.

  On the ground, Tyros and Lyle worked in tandem. Lyle’s arrows pierced through the creatures that attempted to flank them, while Tyros focused on charging his blade. Vermilion’s flames burned brighter with each passing moment, the blade humming with barely contained power.

  “I hope you have a plan,” Lyle said, glancing at Tyros as he loosed another arrow.

  “I always have a plan,” Tyros replied, though the strain in his voice was evident.

  “Care to share it?”

  Tyros didn’t answer. Instead, he raised Vermilion above his head, the flames erupting into a pillar of fire that reached toward the heavens. “Azra!” he shouted. “Clear a path!”

  Azra heard his call and nodded, her hands glowing as she summoned a massive whirlwind. The tempest tore through the storm’s tendrils, creating an opening. “Now, Tyros!”

  With a battle cry that echoed through the forest, Tyros swung Vermilion with all his strength. The fiery arc shot upward, colliding with the heart of the vortex. The storm writhed and twisted, its energy unraveling in a brilliant explosion of light.

  When the light faded, the storm was gone. The creatures had disintegrated, leaving nothing but ash in their wake. The trio stood in silence, the weight of their victory heavy on their shoulders.

  “That…” Lyle began, but trailed off. He shook his head. “That shouldn’t have worked.”

  Azra landed gracefully, her robes tattered but her resolve unshaken. “It wasn’t enough. Whatever’s behind this storm, we only delayed it.”

  Tyros sheathed Vermilion, his expression grim. “Then we keep fighting. Until we find a way to stop it for good.”

  From the shadows, a faint glow caught their attention. A shard of crystal, pulsating with dark energy, lay at the center of the clearing. Tyros approached cautiously, picking it up with a gloved hand.

  “What is it?” Azra asked.

  “A clue,” Tyros replied, his eyes narrowing. “And a warning.”

  The shard began to pulse faster, and a deep, guttural voice echoed from within. “You think this is over? The Gathering Storm is eternal.”

  The sky darkened once more, and the trio exchanged grim looks.

  “Round two?” Lyle asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.

  “Round two,” Tyros confirmed, gripping the shard tightly.