While the Witch Hunters crept around to the sides of the ruins, Haldor and Djargo moved slowly towards the wolf acting as sentry. He hoped to use Djargo to draw the wolf out, but before they could even attempt it, a loud crack from a snapped branch drew the wolf’s and all the bandit’s attention.

It came from the brush on the right side of the ruins, and before any of the bandits even stood, Everett, Naja, Torskaal, and Akecheta charged with their weapons drawn. Carbrey hid amidst the brush, waiting for an opportune moment to strike.

The bandits scrambled to their feet. Some ran for weapons, others moved to wake up those that were sleeping. Three men in the back ripped off their shirts and let out a savage howl. Each of their bodies started to convulse and shake violently as their muscles bulged and fur rapidly sprouted all over them. They screamed in horrible pain as their bones snapped and their faces painfully stretched from human to wolf.

The Witch Hunters rushed them, but several bandits intercepted them. The wolf doubled back from his post towards the bandits who were grouped near the stairs.

Naja lunged her blade into the chest of a man who stood in her way.

“Out of my way!” she yelled as she ripped the blade back out. Her ribs screamed out in pain but she refused to yield to it. I will not fail.

Torskaal charged past Naja as fast as his little legs could carry him, and without even giving them a warning, he let his cannon roar. First came the boom, then all of the screams. The front of the barrel was blown and black smoke rose from its tip.

The grapeshot completely tore through bandits and the wolf like they were canvas—most died instantly, but those that survived the blast experienced the horrors of blood-filled lungs gasping for breath and bones shattered by impact. Their wet and unrelenting coughs signaled their slow and painful deaths.

Naja and Akecheta held the front line of bandits while Everette drove his pike through the chest of one that stood in their way. Cha’Rak jumped up and sprang off of the wall, hoping to reach the werewolves before they could change, but he was too late.

Where there were three men a few seconds prior, now stood three gray haired beasts, all with hungry yellow eyes. Completely cut off from the others, Cha’Rak slid his sickle across his hand and called the flame.

When the fighting first began, Orthos had his eye drawn to an elk that had made its way to the ruins. The others on the left had seen the elk, but only Orthos had a proper look. What he saw he knew he could not ignore. The elk looked plain, but its eyes had a bright yellow glow that stirred awful feelings of Doubt within Orthos’ chest.

Will we be able to do this? What if I can’t land my shot? Why did I even become a Witch Hunter? Orthos shook his head and bit down on his lip until blood ran to his chin. He didn’t even shout for the others, he just charged the elk, sending an arrow free from his bow.

The arrow missed and the elk took off into the woods. He chased it to the front of the ruins and saw Haldor and Djargo running in towards the battle. I have to find it. He scanned until he saw the elk beside a tree, calmly staring at him from a distance. He raised his bow, knocked another arrow, and let it loose.

It soared into the air but just as it looked like it would hit its mark, it fell sudden and fast. What is this thing? He looked around to see if he could still see the others, but he couldn’t. He was alone. He turned back and the elk was right in front of him. It stood no taller than any normal elk, but its cruel gaze sent shivers down his spine.

He reeled back, horror struck by its sudden and unsettling appearance. Just then, a cloud of black smoke enveloped the elk before dissipating as swiftly as it came. Now a tall and gaunt woman carrying a dark wooden staff with a glowing yellow orb in its crown stared him down. She wore an oak brown hood that cast an unnaturally dark shadow above the tip of her nose. From within the darkness two bright yellow eyes unnaturally shone like two lanterns in the night.

“You seem to want something from me. Well, here I am,” the woman said in a calm tone.

“All I want is your head!” he shouted, he threw down his bow, quickly grabbed his cannon, jumped back, and let it rip. After a loud bang and flash of light, the Witch let out a long and terribly wicked laugh.

“You’ll have to do better than that, my dear.” She stared into Orthos and he froze. Can I do this? Can she be killed? Can I run? Can I escape? He dropped his cannon, took hold of his iron chain hook, and smeared the blood from his chin across it.

“This is where you die, Witch!” Orthos held his hook up towards her as it burst into flames. Just as he stepped towards her, a wretched pain struck his leg. It was an arrow, though it was shadowy and completely pitch black. The Witch laughed and drew her finger up, wagging it at his face.

“You’ll have to overcome your Doubt if you wish to kill me.” The Witch pointed to some brush off to the side. Fear stirred in Orthos. Looking away was a terror, but not knowing what was in the brush was worse.

Stealing his resolve, Orthos quickly shot his gaze to the brush. There, beside a tree with an arrow knocked, he saw a shadowy figure of himself. The shadow was a perfect copy, though it was wispy and had no real form. Its eyes were bright and yellow and malevolence stretched across its face.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“I have no Doubt,” Orthos growled as he pushed the feelings of unease away. The Witch approached slowly, shaking her head and smiling.

“Come now, we know that isn’t true,” the Witch replied. “A Witch Hunter's life is one you never truly wanted. You were just following along after your friend. Just like when you joined the Salt Strider. This was never anything you really wanted to do.” The Witch stepped closer, slowly raising her hand up as if to caress him.

Orthos’ eyes grew wide, a cold sweat fell from his brow, and it was as if his heart had quit beating. Doubt swirled within his mind, and he was helpless to resist. Just as the tips of her finger were about to touch his face, a bright and vibrant orb of fire smacked into her chest.

She jumped back and screamed for a moment as the flame burned her robes and seared her flesh. She snarled before raising her finger and speaking a command, but nothing appeared to happen.

“Your mental tricks won’t work on me!” shouted a voice from behind Orthos. Out of the shadows of the wood, stepped Ra'Selas. With a flaming brand pointed at the Witch’s head, he pressed to Orthos side, stepping in front of him and staring her down.

“I heard your cannon and feared there were more werewolves, but it looks like you found something far more sinister,” he said to Orthos.

“I see, you are Zenidition. Very well,” replied the Witch in a soft tone. She raised her hand and flicked an orb of pure arcane energy directly towards them.

Ra'Selas pushed Orthos out of the way and swung his blade into the orb. It ricocheted off into the sky, nearly knocking him off balance. Orthos stumbled to his feet and grabbed his bow while Ra'Selas regained his footing. Just as he stood, another arrow hit him, this time in the arm.

Back in the ruins, the werewolves stared down Cha’Rak. One lunged at him, but Torksaal had made it to him with his shield raised high. Its fangs bounced off of the steel, and Torskaal bashed it away.

“Easy, laddie, we gotta be smart!” Torskaal backed the two of them up towards the wall so they could not be surrounded. One stayed with them and scratched Torskaal’s shield while the other two darted towards Naja and the others.

Having not seen a good moment to strike and confused as to why the others had not charged from the left flank, Carbrey flew into the fray. He rushed to Naja, bashing a bandit over the head with his mace. The man fell over unceremoniously, blood spurting from the holes left behind.

Two of the bandits grabbed Akecheta by the shield and pulled him through the line. He lost his mace as he hit the ground and quickly stumbled to stand as two werewolves towered above him.

Naja kicked a bandit down in front of her and ran past another, but as she did, he grabbed her by the arm, swung her back and sunk his dagger directly into her face. It pierced her eye and she reeled back. Grinding her teeth, she grabbed the man by the hand and pulled him into her head, crushing his nose to her forehead.

She screamed and held her bleeding eye with one hand. Her ribs were a faint whisper compared to the pain that echoed through her now. Her whole body seemed to shake and every muscle refused to move.

The bandit sprung to his feet and charged Naja while she howled in pain. Just as he was closing in to finish her off, Everette sunk his pike directly into the man’s neck. His muscles bulged from under his cloak as he drove the man to the ground.

“It’s not over yet!” Everett slapped her back as he charged his pike into another one's heart. “Come on, Naja!”

Carbrey hacked and slashed his way through the men like a butcher until he had reached Akecheta. His heart felt ready to burst, and his breath was wild and hard to catch.

A large claw slashed Akecheta across the back and he stumbled forward. A second one came down hard on his shoulder and he dropped his shield. Wounded and woozy, Akecheta fell to his knee and tried to grab a dagger from his belt.

Carbrey ran as fast as he could, but he was too slow. As Akecheta stumbled to draw his dagger, one of the beasts sunk its fangs into his shoulder. Blood poured from its jowls as Akechetas’ eyes rolled back into his head and his strength left him.

His head was swimming, his limbs were numb, and he felt the pull of Venya, inching him towards his death. Refusing the pain in his body, he snatched his silver dagger, and drove it into the belly of the beast as he dropped. Fury rang from the werewolf's howl as he charged Carbrey with its blood filled jowls.

Carbrey fumbled with his cannon in a panic, desperately trying to get a good shot without catching Akecheta in the blast. The beast was on top of him in an instant. He jumped back, but a claw tore into his arm and blood flew everywhere. He tried to pull the cannon’s handle but suddenly his arm wouldn’t work.

Looking down, he found his hand was gone, now replaced with a bloody stump just past his elbow. Shock and pain rushed into him like he was struck by lightning. He fell to his back and stared up at the canopy of leaves overhead. A soft ray of sunlight hit his face and shone directly into his pale green eyes.

“Man overboard!” Torskaal howled. He stepped back from the werewolf and brought down his silver pike. Cha’Rak waved his flaming sickle in front of him and when the beast tried to clamp down on his shoulder, he punched it in the mouth with his heavy iron gauntlet.

The beast recoiled and snarled, swinging its claw into Cha’Rak’s chest. It shredded his furs and blood instantly soaked through. The beast grabbed him by his arms and lunged for his neck. Just as its fangs poked soft tan flesh, Torskaal ran his pike through the creature's throat. Blood spilled from its mouth and the hole in its neck before it fell back dead.

“Come on, Carbrey!” Torskaal shouted. “Hang on, lad! Storm’s almost over! Dry land is just over the horizon!”

Naja rose up, her hand covering her left eye. Blood poured from it and she felt like she couldn’t stand, but she had no choice. Get up Naja. She heard the voice in her head as if it were Lord Gremmelt's. This is no time to be laying around.

A bandit broke away from Everette and charged her with Akecheta’s mace. The pain in her eye was still shooting signals through her whole body to quit, but she refused to listen. The man brought down the mace right toward her head, but at the last moment, she stepped to the side. It swung right past her and she grabbed the man by the wrist and pulled him close as she slid her shortsword across his neck.

Just as Evertte pulled his pike from the last man, Naja was beside him. The two remaining werewolves were now upon them. I know I heard a cannon. Where are the others? She glanced quickly to the other side of the ruins and couldn't see either Orthos or Ra'Selas, and as for Beef, he was running into the woods in the opposite direction.

The beasts charged Naja and Everette before Torskaal and Cha'Rak could even move. Just as they drew back their claws to slash a great loud bang echoed from behind them.