The forest clearing was bathed in the eerie light of the moon, its soft glow barely penetrating the thick canopy overhead. Shadows danced wildly as the darkness deepened, shrouding the area in a cloak of dread. It was in this ominous setting that Jonny and Gavin found themselves thrust into a battle against the Darkborn minions.

The sudden appearance of the creatures caught Jonny off guard. He was still reeling from the day's grueling sword practice, his body weary and drained. He desperately searched for something—anything—to use as a makeshift weapon. Gavin, however, was a contrast of calm efficiency. His movements were sharp and precise, each step measured and deliberate. He zeroed in on the closest minion with a speed that bordered on clinical.

The Voidling, a grotesque amalgamation of dark, feral features, snarled and lunged, its claws slashing through the air. Gavin's response was instantaneous. With a fluid, mechanical grace, he struck with pinpoint accuracy.

The minion's movements became erratic, its once fierce growls turning into a choked, guttural noise. Gavin's strikes were precise and unrelenting.

He followed up with a rapid series of strikes that cut through the darkness like a blade through mist. The creature's limbs flailed wildly until, its form unraveling as Gavin's mechanical fists tore into it. Finally, it collapsed in a heap. Its dark eyes remained wide open, staring blankly into the void, its body twitching as life drained away.

Jonny's fight was far from effortless. He had found a large, gnarled branch lying amidst the forest debris, and he wielded it with desperate resolve. The remaining minion was relentless, its bloodshot eyes glaring with primal fury.

The creature's growls echoed through the trees as it charged at Jonny. He swung the branch with all his remaining strength, each thud against the minion's flesh accompanied by the sickening splatter of dark ichor. The minion staggered under the blows, its ferocity undiminished even as blood dripped from its wounds. Jonny's strikes were clumsy, fueled by exhaustion and raw determination, but each hit took its toll on the creature.

Jonny's breath came in ragged gasps.

He could feel the fatigue seeping into his bones, each movement a struggle.

He knew he couldn't hold on forever.

"Gavin!" he grunted, his voice strained with effort and desperation.

Gavin, having dispatched his own foe, turned to see Jonny's struggle. The second minion was still wreaking havoc, its dark, twisted form a blur of aggression.

Gavin's intervention was swift. He moved with a fluidity that seemed almost unnatural, his mechanical precision cutting through the chaos of the battle with the precision of an automaton honed for combat. With a series of powerful, calculated strikes, he neutralized the second minion. Even in his partially repaired state, he was a machine built for this kind of confrontation. The creature's body crumpled heavily, its limbs splayed at unnatural angles, the fight coming to a decisive end.

The clearing fell silent, the only sound the soft rustling of the leaves and the distant calls of night creatures. Gavin's gaze briefly scanned the area, ensuring no further threats remained nearby. His own systems were straining, but the urgency of the situation drove him to push through the pain. He looked toward Jonny, who was visibly shaken and weary.

Jonny's battle-weary form stood amid the aftermath of the fight. The sight of the defeated Voidlings, their grotesque bodies sprawled across the forest floor, was a grim testament to the violence that had just occurred. He had barely managed to fend off the creature with his makeshift weapon, but the victory came at a cost. His muscles ached, and his breaths were shallow and uneven.

"I've got to get back..." Jonny muttered to himself, his voice a mix of urgency and exhaustion. "Helena needs us..."

With that, Jonny set off towards the cottage, his steps hurried and unsteady. The adrenaline from the fight surged through him, propelling him forward despite his battered condition.

The path through the darkened forest seemed to stretch endlessly before him, each step a battle against the pain and fatigue that threatened to overwhelm him.

Meanwhile, Gavin, though visibly strained even more from the battle, raced alongside Jonny. His mechanical limbs whirred and clicked as he moved with an urgency fueled by both his programming and a sense of duty. Despite his repairs, the damage he had sustained was becoming more pronounced, but his focus was solely on ensuring Helena's safety.

As Jonny and Gavin made their way back, the darkness seemed to grow thicker, the forest becoming an oppressive backdrop to their hurried retreat. The night's tranquility had been shattered by the violence, and now it seemed to close in around them, a foreboding reminder of the dangers that lurked just beyond the edges of their world.

***

As the moon climbed high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the cottage and nearby forest, the peaceful quiet of the home was disturbed by an unsettling sensation. Inside, the room was softly illuminated by the flickering light of candles, their glow creating restless shadows on the walls. Helena stood in the center of the room, holding Alex’s sword—a memento from her deceased husband. The weapon felt like a heavy reminder of her loss and the love she had once known.

Helena’s senses were suddenly on edge, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint the cause. An unfamiliar and profound unease washed over her—something she had never felt before in her years living at the edge of Glenhaven. It was a vague, unsettling feeling, as if the very air around her had shifted. She took a cautious step back, her eyes fixed on the front door, which seemed to heighten her growing discomfort.

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The door, once securely closed, squeaked slightly and slowly before suddenly bursting open with alarming force, its hinges straining under the sudden pressure. The darkness outside was almost impenetrable, with only a sliver of moonlight filtering through the dense foliage. The door creaked ominously as it swung wide, the sound echoing through the still night.

In the doorway stood a Darkborn lieutenant—an imposing figure with an aura of menace and authority. Its grotesque form a combination of dark, feral features, and its eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the interior of the cottage with a predatory intensity. The sight of the creature was foreboding, adding to Helena’s growing sense of dread.

Helena’s heart pounded as the lieutenant’s gaze fixed upon her. Although she couldn’t fully grasp the reason for her fear, the creature’s presence was undeniably threatening. The lieutenant’s focus was drawn to the sword she held, still carrying the faint scent of Alex. The creature’s eyes widened with a mix of recognition and hostility, though the source of its anger was unclear to Helena.

The lieutenant’s posture became tense, its body coiling in preparation for an attack. Helena’s grip on the sword tightened, her resolve strengthening even as fear crept in. She stood ready to defend herself, though the sense of unease was unlike anything she had ever felt in her quiet life at the cottage.

Without warning, the Darkborn lieutenant lunged forward, its claws extended and its eyes locked onto Helena. The attack was swift and aggressive, driven by a fierce determination that Helena could only sense as a dire threat. She braced herself, the sword held defensively, as the creature closed in.

***

The sound of hooves thundering through the forest filled the night air as André rode at breakneck speed. Each second felt like an eternity as he urged his horse to run faster, the trees blurring past in the moonlit darkness.

He could barely see the trail ahead, but that didn't matter. His thoughts were consumed with one desperate hope.

"I must get there in time.." His grip tightened on the reins. "Please... let me not be too late."

The cottage wasn't far now, just beyond the next hill. But the sinking feeling in his chest refused to go away. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, but he shook his head, banishing them. He had to focus. He couldn't let fear consume him.

He leaped from his horse, not even bothering to tether it. Rushing to the door, his breath caught in his throat at the sight that awaited him inside.

The room was in shambles, overturned furniture and shattered glass littering the floor. In the corner, Helena's limp body was slumped against the wall, motionless. Blood smeared the wooden floorboards beneath her, and for a horrifying moment, André feared the worst.

"Helena.." He whispered her name, his voice cracking. His feet felt like lead as he moved closer, his hand reaching out, hoping against all hope that she was still alive.

But there, in the middle of the room, stood the Darkborn lieutenant, a hulking figure of malice, its form barely illuminated by the dim glow of the lantern that flickered on the table.

Alex's sword, Noctisbane, was lodged deep in the creature's chest.

André's heart clenched. Helena hadn't gone down without a fight.

The lieutenant's black eyes gleamed with fury as it reached up, wrapping its clawed hand around the hilt of the sword and yanking it from its chest with a sickening squelch. It tossed the blade aside like a discarded toy, its gaze locked on André now. The creature staggered slightly, still wounded from its previous encounter with Alex and suffering from its latest injury, but it was far from defeated.

Rage flared inside André like a firestorm. Without a second thought, he lunged at the creature, sword drawn.

André's blade clashed with the creature's claws, the force of the impact reverberating through André's bones. The lieutenant snarled, its movements erratic, weakened by the wounds it bore, but it fought with a savage desperation.

André's strikes were quick and precise, but the Darkborn fought back with the strength of a cornered beast. The lieutenant swung its claws wildly, each swipe narrowly missing its mark. Blood oozed from the gaping wound in its chest, and for a brief moment, André saw hesitation in its eyes. It knew it couldn't win. Not like this.

Sensing the tide of the battle turning, the lieutenant threw a glance toward the side window. In a sudden, frantic move, it leaped through the glass, shattering the frame and disappearing into the night.

Panting, André rushed to the window and watched as the creature fled into the darkness. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, frustration boiling in his veins. It was escaping, and he knew it would be back.

Before he could catch his breath, a familiar sound reached his ears— another set of footsteps approaching fast.

Jonny and Gavin emerged from the edge of the forest, their faces grim. But as they took in the scene of chaos inside the cottage, Jonny's eyes darkened. He saw André by the shattered window, and outside, the creature was making its escape. But before he could react, the lieutenant's eyes locked onto him.

For a split second, everything seemed to freeze. The creature's gaze focused entirely on Jonny, its pupils narrowing as it smelled the air. It was picking up on something-something familiar.

---

Alex's scent.

Jonny had been training all day with Alex's sword, and though he wasn't carrying it now, the lingering scent of Alex, mingled with Jonny's sweat, filled the air. The lieutenant's eyes flashed with unbridled rage, an irrational fury taking over as it shifted its focus away from escape. With a bloodthirsty roar, the creature lunged toward Jonny, all sense of self-preservation gone.

Jonny barely had time to register the attack. His body still ached from training earlier in the day, and he hadn't recovered enough to react quickly. The creature was closing in fast, its claws ready to tear him apart.

But just before it could reach him, a metallic flash cut through the night.

Gavin, with calculated precision, intercepted the lieutenant mid-lunge.

His body moved with mechanical efficiency, faster than the eye could follow. His arm swung in one fluid motion, striking the Darkborn lieutenant down with a single blow. The force of the impact sent the creature crashing to the ground, its lifeless body crumpling in a heap at Gavin's feet.

For a moment, the air was still. The creature's blood stained the grass beneath it, pooling around the lieutenant's body. Its once ferocious eyes were now vacant, the life drained from them in an instant.

Jonny barely had time to process what had just happened. He stared at the fallen creature, his chest heaving, his mind racing. He wanted to thank Gavin, to say something, but no words came.

All he could feel was the pounding of his heart in his chest and the lingering terror of what had almost happened.

But then, reality hit him. Jonny turned toward the cottage.

His steps quickened as he rushed toward the open door, fear gripping his heart. His body was moving on instinct now, the pain from the battle with the Voidlings earlier forgotten. He crossed the threshold, and what he saw made his heart stop.

There, lying motionless in the corner of the room, was Helena.

"Mother!" The word tore from Jonny's throat, raw and desperate. He stumbled to her side, falling to his knees as he reached for her. His hands hovered over her, unsure, trembling.

Helena was pale, her breathing shallow.

Blood stained her clothes, and her body was bruised and battered from the fight. For a horrifying moment, Jonny thought she was already gone.

"No... no, please.."

His voice broke as he gently took her hand in his. It was cold, too cold. He pressed it against his cheek, his tears falling freely. "Mother, wake up... please..."

Helena stirred, just barely. Her eyelids fluttered, and Jonny felt a glimmer of hope. She was still alive. But she was so weak. Her hand, trembling, brushed against his cheek, her touch barely there. Her lips moved, but no words came out.

"Mom.." Jonny's voice cracked again as he held her hand, refusing to let go.

But then, her hand slipped from his grasp, falling limply to the floor.

"Mom!"

His anguished cry echoed through the small cottage, filling the night with sorrow. He cradled her in his arms, his body wracked with sobs as the weight of everything crashed down on him.

Outside, Gavin and André stood in silence, watching the scene unfold.

Gavin's usually expressionless face showed a flicker of something-an emotion he couldn't quite name. And André, his heart heavy with guilt and anger, lowered his head, knowing the cost of what had happened tonight.

The lieutenant was dead, but the scars of this battle would last far longer than the blood that stained the floor.