As dawn’s light filtered through the twisted trees surrounding Darkwood Hollow, Silas, Rowan, and Layla finalised their plan to face the deadly swarm. The oppressive silence of the cursed village weighed heavily on them, amplifying their fear of the unknown. But they knew there was no turning back.
Silas prepared his bow, selecting a slender, steel-tipped arrow. He attached a sturdy rope to its shaft, his expression tense as he prepared for what would come. His gaze was fixed on the swarm of locusts that continued to churn ominously above the decayed village. These weren’t just ordinary insects—they were monstrous abominations, each one as dangerous as the next.
“This is going to require precision,” Silas muttered to himself, tightening his grip on the bow. “We need to understand these things before we even think about charging in.”
He took a deep breath, steadying his aim as he targeted one of the locusts. The creature, about five inches long, flitted about in the air, its jagged mandibles snapping at the empty space. Silas focused on the locust’s non-fatal areas, aiming carefully at the section where the thorax met the abdomen—an area that would disable it without killing it outright.
With a quick exhale, he released the arrow. It whistled through the air, and with a soft thud, the tip embedded itself into the locust’s body. The creature jerked violently, its wings buzzing frantically, but the rope held firm as Silas began to reel it in.
As the locust drew closer, Silas’s expression shifted to one of disgust. Up close, the creature was even more hideous. Its spiked exoskeleton was a mottled brown-black, and its eyes glowed with a sinister, unnatural light. The mandibles, dripping with some foul substance, clicked together with a sickening rhythm.
“You ugly fuckers”, Silas whispered, his voice barely audible.
He examined the locust carefully, trying to understand its structure. The exoskeleton was incredibly tough, almost like armour. It would take something sharp or powerful to pierce it effectively. Silas formed a fine needle with Dust’s help, using his magic to shape it precisely. With a flick of his hand, he propelled the needle forward with a burst of wind, aiming for the creature’s underbelly with Breeze’s help.
The needle struck true, but the locust resisted, its exoskeleton protecting it from the initial impact. Silas gritted his teeth and applied more force, the needle finally piercing through the tough shell. The locust let out a shrill, ear-piercing screech before it fell limp, dead.
Silas’s hand trembled slightly as he withdrew the needle, wiping the sweat from his brow. “That was harder than I thought,” he muttered. He couldn’t imagine fighting an entire swarm like this.
Determined to test another method, he selected a second locust from the swarm and repeated the process, reeling it in. This time, he tried suffocating it using air magic, compressing the air around the locust to deprive it of life. The creature writhed and struggled, its wings flapping wildly. It took nearly a full minute before the locust finally ceased its movements and died.
Silas shook his head in frustration. “That’s too slow,” he said, his voice laced with disappointment. “This won’t work against a large number of them. They’ll rip us to shreds while I wait for them to suffocate.”
He wasn’t about to give up. Silas captured yet another locust, his mind racing with possibilities. This time, he decided to try fire. Channelling his magic, he ignited the air around the locust with Spark’s help. To his astonishment, the creature burst into flames almost instantly, its body consumed by the fire. Within seconds, the locust was reduced to ash.
Silas’s eyes widened with realisation. “Fire,” he whispered, a note of triumph in his voice. “That’s their weakness.”
Just as he made this discovery, Rowan returned from a nearby hill, where he had been scouting the village. His expression was solemn as he approached Silas and Layla.
“There’s something you need to see,” Rowan said, gesturing for them to follow.
The three of them climbed the hill, giving them a clear view of the village below. Rowan pointed toward the centre of Darkwood Hollow, where the swarm was most concentrated. The locusts were heavily clustered around a dilapidated sanctuary, their movements almost frenzied, but something more had caught Rowan’s attention.
“They’re moving in an anti-clockwise pattern,” Rowan explained, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I can’t figure out why, but it’s almost like they’re... circling it, protecting it.”
Silas and Layla exchanged glances, both understanding the significance of what Rowan had found. “It can’t see very well with all of them flying around, but I think it’s a sanctuary,” Layla said slowly, “it must be important. Maybe there’s something inside that can help us.”
Silas thought for a moment, and then an idea struck him. “Rowan, what if we disturb them? See how they react.”
Rowan looked at him and said. “It’s worth a shot.”
Silas called on Dust, without hesitation, to make another boulder and hurled it towards the sanctuary with Breeze’s help. Immediately, the locust swarm flew upward in a chaotic flurry, darkening the sky with their numbers and devouring the boulder.
“They’re definitely protecting it,” Rowan observed, watching as the swarm circled frantically above. But when the locusts settled again, something became even more apparent: they only landed on the sanctuary’s exterior. Not a single one ventured inside.
“They’re afraid,” Layla murmured, her eyes narrowing. “Or they’re following someone’s commands.”
Silas nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. “If we can get inside, we might find a way to stop them or at least learn more about why they’re here.”
The group quickly agreed that their best chance was to make a beeline for the sanctuary. They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but they had no other choice. Armed with his newfound knowledge and their collective observations, Silas prepared to lead the charge.
As they descended from the hill and entered the village’s outskirts, the locusts immediately reacted. The swarm surged toward them, a black wave of death threatening to consume everything in its path.
“Here they come!” Rowan shouted, drawing his sword as he and Layla prepared for the fight.
Silas raised his hand, calling upon Breeze. A powerful gust swept through the village, slowing the swarm’s advance, but the sheer number of locusts overwhelmed his efforts. Gritting his teeth, Silas shifted tactics.
He summoned Dust to raise massive walls of earth, blocking the bulk of the swarm. The walls held, funnelling only a smaller portion of locusts through narrow gaps. Rowan and Layla moved swiftly, using their combined Soul Bind and Minor Soul Disruption techniques to disorient and weaken the locusts that managed to get through.
Usually, Soul Bind was used to keep a target still at its place, but at such a large scale, they could only manage to weaken the locusts a bit. Minor Soul Disruption, however was working as intended and was confusing the locusts.
Trickster slithered forward, its scales shimmering as it transformed. The once small and cute crimson python changed form yet again, its body now lined with icy blue scales that seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. Trickster hissed, his breath visible in the cool air. The serpent reared back and unleashed a blast of icy wind, freezing dozens of locusts in mid-air. The frozen insects fell to the ground, shattering upon impact, but the swarm pressed on, undeterred.
Seizing the opportunity, Silas unleashed a torrent of fire with Spark’s help, incinerating the locusts that had breached their defences. The flames roared, consuming the creatures in a blaze of heat and light.
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But the swarm was relentless. The locusts outside the wall surged forward, their mandibles tearing into the earth. Silas’s wall crumbled under the assault, and the swarm charged through the gap.
“Again!” Rowan shouted, and the group repeated the process. Silas raised another wall, only to have it devoured moments later. They fought their way forward, inch by painful inch, the sanctuary growing closer with each step.
The insect horde churned like a dark, living cloud above the sanctuary. Silas could feel the fatigue gnawing at his bones, but the thought of what awaited inside pushed him forward.
As they neared the sanctuary, Silas finally reached his limit. His breaths came in ragged gasps, and his vision blurred from exhaustion. The adrenaline that had fueled him was starting to wane, leaving him weak and vulnerable. Just when it seemed like the swarm would overwhelm them, a thunderous roar echoed through the air.
With a roar that shook the ground, Goldie charged at the swarm, its voice reverberating with an intensity that the group had never seen before. The locusts hesitated, their movements faltering as if disoriented by the bear’s mighty cry. A large chunk of the locusts then fell to the ground, squirming, maybe an instinctive reaction to the roar. It was just the opening they needed.
“Now!” Rowan yelled, grabbing Silas by the arm and hauling him forward. Layla, with Trickster at her side, covered their retreat as the trio pushed through the last of the swarm. Goldie held his ground, his roar continuing to disorient the locusts long enough for them to reach the sanctuary’s entrance.
As they crossed the threshold, the swarm abruptly stopped as if hitting an invisible barrier. The locusts buzzed furiously outside, but none dared enter the sanctuary. Inside, the air was still and quiet, offering a strange sense of peace after the chaos of the swarm.
Silas collapsed against the sanctuary’s crumbling wall, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. His body trembled from the exertion, every muscle screaming in protest. He couldn’t even stand for a few minutes. Every muscle in his body ached, and his head swam with fatigue. Rowan knelt beside him, offering support, while Layla scanned the room, trying to catch her breath.
“We made it,” Layla eventually said while panting, her voice shaky but relieved.
Rowan nodded, his expression grim but relieved. “Yeah…Thanks to Goldie,” he said, glancing over at the bear cub, who had followed them inside, now sitting at the sanctuary’s entrance, guarding it with a watchful eye. The group still couldn’t figure out how the small cub had uttered such a mighty roar, but there were more pressing concerns.
Silas forced himself to sit up. “We need to figure out what’s going on here. And we need to do it fast.”
Rowan glanced out at the swarm, which still circled menacingly outside the sanctuary. “Agreed,” he said grimly. “Let’s find out what those things are protecting.”
With their strength slowly returning, the three companions turned their attention to the darkened interior of the sanctuary.
The silence inside the sanctuary was eerie, broken only by the sound of their laboured breathing. The trio’s relief at finding momentary refuge from the swarm gave way to a strange tension. They knew something dark awaited them within, a force perhaps far worse than the locusts outside.
Rowan broke the silence, his voice low but steady, “I’ve been running the numbers. My Minor Soulbound Spirit and I have a contract for twenty hours per month. Between this last fight and the battle against Trickster, I’ve got about sixteen and a half hours left.”
Layla raised an eyebrow, her eyes widening. “You too?” she asked, astounded. “I also have a twenty hour contract with my spirit. I’ve got around seventeen hours left, so we’re good for a drawn-out battle.”
Silas, who had been catching his breath, blinked in disbelief. “Twenty hours? Rowan too?? That’s the upper limit for a Minor Soulbound Spirit, it never goes beyond that. I can’t believe this guy with his loud mouth didn’t tell me” He let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Two geniuses with perfect contracts in the same room? You both just had to make things more ridiculous, didn’t you?”
Rowan took his chance and said, “Well, we’re simply made for each oth...”
Layla interrupted him, “Complete that sentence, and I’ll slap you so hard that you’ll start seeing stars even when it’s bright outside.”
As Silas listened to Rowan and Layla discuss their contracts, a pang of envy tightened in his chest. He quickly shook it off—he had his own strengths, even if they weren’t bound by a soul contract.
But then Layla’s curiosity got the better of her. She smiled and asked, “What about your contract, Silas?”
Silas shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “I don’t have one. I’m no Soulweaver.”
Layla was taken aback by this revelation. As the son of War Master Sullivan, she had assumed Silas would have immense potential in soul magic. But she held her tongue, unwilling to probe further into what was likely a sore topic.
Rowan nodded towards the sanctuary’s darkened interior. “Let’s keep moving. I’ve got no clue what’s waiting for us, but it’s got to be connected to those locusts.”
They moved deeper into the sanctuary, the air growing colder with each step. The scent of decay intensified, mixing with the musty smell of old stone. After several minutes of navigating through the narrow halls, Layla stopped short, her hand covering her nose.
“Do you smell that?” she asked, her voice muffled. “It’s... blood.”
Rowan sniffed the air, grimacing. “Yeah, it’s coming from down there.”
Ahead of them, an old, weathered staircase spiralled downward into the earth. The smell of blood thickened as they descended, making each step heavier, each breath harder to take. The stone walls of the passage were streaked with dark red stains, as though someone—or something—had been dragged along them.
Layla gagged, the stench overwhelming her senses. “This is... nauseating,” she muttered, barely keeping herself from vomiting.
Silas clenched his jaw, his face pale but determined. “We need to keep moving.”
The passage opened into a dimly lit room, and what awaited them inside sent shockwaves through their very souls. Layla gasped, stumbling back as she took in the horrifying scene. The sight of it was too much, and she collapsed to her knees, retching violently.
Rowan and Silas, though both battle-hardened, were no less disturbed.
In the centre of the room, arranged in a grotesque circle, were the naked, headless bodies of at least twenty men and women. Their necks were jagged, torn apart by what seemed to be a dull, rusted blade, leaving the flesh ragged and uneven.
Their heads had been crudely piled in one corner, the empty eye sockets staring blankly at nothing. Blood still flowed slowly from the severed necks, collecting in rivulets and streaming toward the centre of the room, where a large, stone goblet stood—its base surrounded by hollowed-out floor tiles designed to collect the blood.
Silas’s stomach churned as he noticed the bodies had been tied together with barbed wire, keeping them in that horrifying circle formation. The blood trickling down was thick, its metallic stench overpowering. But it wasn’t just the bodies.
At the foot of the goblet lay an old man. His skin was deathly pale, and a smile stretched across his face even in death. A bloodied knife lay next to him, the very blade he had used to slit his own wrists. His blood, like the others, was flowing into the goblet, feeding some unspeakable ritual.
“What the fuck is this…” Rowan whispered, his voice trembling with disgust.
Layla wiped her mouth, her face ashen. “Who... who would do something like this?” she asked, her voice shaking. “And why?”
There was no answer. The room itself seemed to throb with malice, as though it had absorbed the agony of those who had died there. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
In the far corner, behind the goblet, a towering wooden sculpture loomed. Its shape was vaguely humanoid but grotesque. Its face was a blank, smooth expanse of wood with no eyes to speak of. The only distinctive feature was a gaping maw filled with jagged teeth like the wood had rotted and twisted into that horrific shape. The maw seemed to writhe as if alive and ready to sate its hunger.
“Is… Is this some kind of a sacrificial altar?” Silas muttered, his eyes never leaving the wooden abomination. “The blood seems to be the offering...”
Rowan’s fists clenched, fury and revulsion contorting his features. “Whatever they were trying to do, we can’t let it come to fruition. This… thing… needs to be destroyed.”
Before anyone could respond, the old man’s corpse twitched. It was so subtle at first that they thought they imagined it. Then, with an agonisingly slow movement, his head tilted up. But there was no life in those bloodshot eyes—only emptiness. The wooden sculpture seemed to pulse, its eerie presence filling the room with a dark energy.
Suddenly, the corpse jerked violently, its limbs contorting in unnatural ways as if controlled by some malevolent force. The smile on its face stretched wider, grotesquely distorting the dead flesh. Then, with a sickening crack, the mouth opened, emitting a guttural scream that echoed through the chamber.
The creature that had once been a man lunged forward, its movements jerky and instinctual, driven by a primal hunger. Its actions had no intelligence, only the desperate need to devour. It snapped its jaws at them, the sound of grinding teeth filling the air as it scrambled across the blood-soaked floor, leaving a trail of gore in its wake.
“Get back!” Rowan shouted, drawing his sword, his voice cutting through the shock that had frozen them in place.
Silas and Layla snapped out of their horror-induced stupor, retreating as Rowan stepped forward to meet the abomination. The creature flailed wildly, driven by the sinister power emanating from the wooden sculpture, its every movement filled with a twisted mockery of life.
But there was no reasoning with it, no chance to calm it down. Whatever had once been human was gone, consumed by the dark magic that now animated its corpse.
The group prepared for battle, knowing that this would be tough.