An Hour Ago

The air crackled with unnatural energy, tension suffocating the small house as seven figures stood ominously just outside. The surrounding forest, usually a silent witness to the mundane, now cowered in fear. Branches trembled, and the wind hissed through the trees, almost as if warning the house's inhabitants of the horrors that were about to unfold.

Among the seven, five of them wore black capes over light armor, shifting with eerie quietness. The sixth, bulkier and encased in thick, gleaming plate armor, stood unmoving like a sentinel. But it was the seventh figure, at the center of the group, who seemed to command the darkness itself. Cloaked in a deep, flowing robe, his hood obscured his face, yet the malice emanating from him was palpable. It was as though the very night bent to his will, swirling around him like a living shroud. He didn’t just blend into the dark—he was the dark.

One of the armored figures stepped forward, his voice rough with barely contained excitement. “Shall we begin?” His words were casual, like someone asking about the weather, but his tone dripped with bloodlust.

The cloaked leader barely turned, his lips twisting into a cold, cruel grin that promised death. “Yes,” he said smoothly, his voice as cold and sharp as steel. “Begin the summoning. Make it look like a monster attack.”

The others nodded, eager to obey. One of the men, eyes gleaming with sadistic curiosity, asked, “What about the boy? Should we kill him now? Or let the beasts take him?”

The leader's grin stretched wider, almost unnatural, his teeth bared in a joyless smile. "Let him have his fun first. Even a dog deserves a chase before the slaughter." His chuckle was cold, hollow—a sound devoid of anything remotely human. "He won’t live long. But let’s make him suffer before he dies."

At his command, the robed mage stepped forward, pulling two scrolls from the folds of his cloak. The air around him warped, as if reality itself recoiled from the dark magic he was about to unleash. His voice rang out in the dead night, each word an invocation of dread.

“From the forgotten pits of ruin, from the graves where darkness thrives, I summon thee. Rise, cursed ones, rise and obey.”

The scrolls glowed with sickly energy as his words twisted into the air, seeping into the ground like poison. The earth shuddered, and from the blackened soil, twisted forms began to rise. Ghouls and revenants, their eyes glowing with hollow malevolence, crawled from the depths, summoned by his unholy command.

Inside the house, Lyna sat beside her daughter Alice, her hand stroking the girl’s soft hair. She tried to keep her composure, but unease pricked at the edge of her senses. Her connection to magic had always been keen, and right now, something felt wrong. Very wrong.

Her heart lurched when the first thud echoed outside, heavy and foreboding. Lyna stood abruptly, her breath catching in her throat. Instinctively, she placed herself between Alice and the door, her fingers trembling as she prepared to confront whatever horror was waiting outside.

And then she saw them. Silhouetted by the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the window—five dark figures. Mages. And not just any mages. These were no ordinary intruders. She could feel the malice radiating off them in waves.

Lyna’s pulse quickened. Her worst fears, the ones she had buried deep, were coming true.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“What do you want?” she demanded, her voice quivering despite her best efforts to stay calm.

The leader stepped forward, his movements fluid, and calculated. Slowly, he pulled back his hood, revealing a face twisted in cruel delight. The sight of him made Lyna’s stomach drop.

“Remember me, Princess Leonhart?” His voice was sharp with mockery.

Her heart froze. It was him—the nightmare from her past, a ghost she had prayed would never find her. “How... how did you—” Her voice faltered, fear constricting her chest.

He laughed, the sound cold and empty. “Oh, you were clever, I’ll give you that. But you can’t hide forever. Not from me.”

His gaze shifted toward Alice’s room, dark and predatory. “But I’m not here for you. No, it’s your daughter my master wants.”

“No!” Lyna’s voice cracked, her heart racing as a surge of protective fury rose within her. She stepped in front of the door, her hands trembling. "You will not touch her!"

The leader smirked, eyes glinting with sick satisfaction. “So predictable. You think you can stop us, after all this time?”

Without a second thought, Lyna summoned her magic. Mana surged through her veins, fire sparking from her fingertips as the symbols of ancient runes glowed faintly in the air. She didn’t have her wand, but she didn’t need it. Not now.

The air around her grew hot, shimmering with an intense heat as flames began to lick at the walls. Her eyes blazed with determination, her breath coming in heavy pants as the magic coursed through her.

“Yol Vistra Solis Ignatum!” she chanted, her voice steady as she wove the ancient spell. The flames around her roared to life, encircling her like a crown of fire. Her body trembled under the strain, but she didn’t falter.

The heat intensified, causing the dark mages to take a step back, their faces painted with surprise. Even the leader’s expression shifted from amusement to something more wary.

“You think fire can stop us?” he sneered. “Kill her.”

The order was given, and the guards lunged at her, their weapons gleaming with dark energy. But Lyna was faster. She thrust her hand forward, and a wave of flame exploded outward, engulfing the first two guards in a roaring inferno. Their screams were drowned by the sound of the fire as it consumed them whole.

The remaining mages hesitated, but Lyna was already moving, her hand forming four glowing fireballs. They hovered in the air for a moment before she released them with a flick of her wrist. The fireballs spiraled through the cramped hallway, twisting and turning in unnatural paths, homing in on their targets.

Boom!

The fireballs exploded on impact, sending the mages crashing into the walls, their bodies charred and broken. But the leader stood unfazed, watching her with a calculating gaze.

Lyna panted, her vision blurring as the strain of her magic began to take its toll. She couldn’t keep this up much longer. Her mana reserves were draining fast, and the pain in her chest grew sharper with each passing second.

"M-Mom?" a small, terrified voice called from behind her. Lyna’s heart broke.

She turned just as Alice stepped into the hallway, her eyes wide with fear. "Go back!" Lyna shouted, panic tightening her throat. "Alice, get out of here!"

But it was too late.

A sharp, searing pain tore through her abdomen. Lyna gasped, looking down to see a dark blade protruding from her stomach, the ethereal edge of the black, pulsing with corrupted energy.

The flames around her flickered and died, her mana drained in an instant. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around her.

The leader stood over her, his face a mask of cruel satisfaction. “Still as weak as ever, Princess,” he spat, pulling the blade free with a sickening sound. Lyna’s vision darkened as her body collapsed.

"Einar..." she whispered, her last breath escaping her lips.

Alice screamed, her voice breaking with terror as the leader grabbed her by the arm, dragging her toward the door. Tears streamed down her face, but her eyes burned with a fiery rage, flickers of flame sparking in her irises—her mother’s magic, but faint.

“Let me go!” Alice shrieked, struggling against his grip.

The leader chuckled, tightening his hold. "Such fire in you. But you are not yet ready." He glanced at the burning wreckage of the house behind them, then at the teleportation scroll his mage had prepared. “Let’s go,” he commanded, and the air shimmered with dark energy.

As they vanished into the swirling portal, Alice’s cries echoed through the night, carried away by the wind and leaving only the crackling of dying flames in their wake.