It leapt into the air, soaring over the golden barrier Arwen maintained. Deadly claws and sharp fangs aimed for her, the wolf-like creature let out a bloodthirsty growl mid-air.
Time seemed to slow for Midhir as his heart skipped a beat. His weapon wasn’t with him – none of them had their weapons, they were far away serving as makeshift pylons. Arwen’s staff was the focal point of the resonance holding the mist back, she couldn’t cast another resonance with it. They were unarmed against this creature.
He rushed forward, to get between Arwen and the creature. They needed to protect her while she maintained the resonance against the otherworldly mist!
Her staff shone brightly, the golden wall resonated along with it. It throbbed, releasing a golden wave, sending the creature high up to the sky and behind them. “Midhir!” Arwen shouted, reaching back, her fingers pointing at his sword stuck in the ground far away.
His eyes widened in disbelief as a golden thread flew across the distance, wrapping itself around the sword’s hilt and pulling it back. It whistled through the air, landing in Arwen’s open palm. She gave it to him, eyes wide and panting with exhaustion. “Kill it!”
“The town!” Willow cried out as part of the golden barrier collapsed, and the mist began rolling into the edge of town.
Midhir ignored her cries, his gaze snapped to the wolf-like creature that had just hit the ground a few dozen steps behind them. Despite the distance Arwen sent it flying, it didn’t seem harmed by the fall.
Tightly grasping the cotton wrapped hilt of his blade, he walked towards the creature. Fear and excitement mixed in his heart as his footsteps hastened. The wolf turned to face him, its gaze finally turning away from Arwen and her glowing staff.
The wolfs ears lay back as its lips curled upward revealing deadly teeth. A blood freezing growl sounded, accompanied by a low, guttural sound emanating from its throat. A bushy tail swung from one side to the other once as the wolf dug its claws into the ground, then pounced.
Faced with two claws and a row of sharp teeth aiming for his throat, Midhir leapt to the side. The moment his feet touched the grass covered ground, he steadied his stance and swung at the wolf as it flew by.
His blade cut the air and dug into the wolf’s thick fur. He felt it touch flesh, but the wolf didn’t give him the chance to push it any deeper.
With a pained yelp, it snapped at his knees, its deadly teeth only catching air as Midhir once again jumped back. Had this been a human opponent, he wouldn’t hesitate to cross weapons, but how was he supposed to fight with such a big wolf? It was physically stronger than him, not to mention his sword lacked the range advantage he needed.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Blood seeped to the ground from the wound on the wolf’s side. Not once did the wolf even consider retreating though, as it again attacked, this time going for Midhir’s arm.
He barely had the time to pull his sword in front of his arm, letting the wolf’s teeth clench around its sharp, metal surface instead. Blood dyed the blade red as the wolf tried to shake its head to try and snatch the sword from Midhir’s hands.
He couldn’t believe how strong the wolf was. The sheer strength of its neck muscles nearly knocked him off his feet. He tightened his grip on the sword’s hilt, dug his heels into the ground, and resisted the beast’s pull with all his strength. The fight had quickly become a battle of endurance, and Midhir had no way of winning it. He could feel his strength sapping away as the beast pulled and tried to shake its head.
How was it not reeling from the pain? It’s mouth was bleeding heavily, and the sound of its teeth pressing against the metal blade sounded like nails on a chalkboard. How did it still have the strength to keep this up, despite the pain it must be feeling?
Had he had another weapon – a dagger or the like, the fight would have been over already. But unarmed otherwise, Midhir had no choice but to take a risk. He focused his attention within, catching that single thread of spiritual power. He summoned it, allowed it to crawl down his arms, around his fingers, and flow into the crystal embedded into the sword’s hilt.
The hairs on his arms rose as an uncontrollable shiver threatened his balance.
Then his sword burst into flames.
And as an extension, so did the wolf. Pained howls echoed in his ears as it ran around, trying to escape the roaring flames consuming its fur and then flesh. The smell of burnt hair and charred flesh reached his nostrils, making him reel back in disgust.
The blood-freezing howls soon turned into weak yelps. Having lost its strength, the animal slowed down, then collapsed. The bright blue shine in its eyes vanished, leaving the brown, suffering filled eyes of a dying wolf.
Midhir rushed over to it, and with a swift strike, pierced its heart. The yelps came to an end, and so did the beast’s suffering.
He stumbled back, physically exhausted, and weak from casting two resonances within such a short time span. Disgusted from the smell, as well as with himself for resorting to give a living being such a cruel death, he stared at the wolf’s body.
Nothing deserved such a painful death. He had no other choice, he knew that – but still, it was a wolf, probably driven mad by the mist, and the tear in the Veil. It didn’t deserve one of the worst imaginable.
He lingered there for only a few short moments. It took some effort to suppress his emotions, to push the disgust and tinge of regret aside. Only when he succeeded did he return to the others.
“Are you alright?” Arwen asked, worried. “Thank the-“ She paused. “I’m glad you’re unharmed.”
He nodded, his gaze lost in the swirling mist. He could see things moving within it. Silhouettes, or perhaps just shadows playing tricks on his mind. He wasn’t sure anymore. If he couldn’t even trust his own eyes, what was he supposed to trust?
image [https://drive.google.com/thumbnail?id=1AE26oxRJ1VLUwn9TY2qt61ati41Cd6bv&sz=w2400-h400]