The dense canopy filtering the sunlight into dappled patterns on the forest floor had Ethan’s rapt attention at the moment. Maybe he was thinking about something, or perhaps he was just staring with nigh a thought in his mind.

Right now, Ethan sat leaning against a sturdy oak.

A brief rest was necessary before pressing on. He closed his eyes filtering out the sounds—the rustling leaves, and the distant chatter of birds—as he went into [Meditation].

He’d made sure earlier that there was no danger, and even if there was, he would react timely.

Some time passed in [Meditation], and then a soft hiss drew Ethan’s attention downward. Opie slithered across the forest floor, tongue flicking curiously. Ethan couldn’t help but smile.

“Hey there, little guy,” he said. “Enjoying yourself?”

Ethan dangled his fingers just above the ground, and Opie eagerly darted forward, attempting to coil around them and then onto his hand. The snake was still so small.

After a few moments of playful interaction, Ethan sighed and pushed himself to his feet. “Alright, Opie. Time to move on.”

He scooped up the snake, then mounted his horse. With a soft click of his tongue, they set off deeper into the forest.

The light began to fade as evening approached. Long shadows slumped across the forest floor. The woods were quiet, as always, broken only by the soft clopping of his horse’s hooves. The trees grew taller and more twisted, their bark a sickly gray hue that seemed to absorb what little light filtered through the canopy. Occasionally, he’d spot strange fungi glowing with an eerie bioluminescence, their caps pulsing softly in hypnotic patterns. These mushrooms were known as Ghost Lights by locals, and were said to lure unwary travelers off the path to their doom.

Ethan’s unease grew as he ventured further into the dense foliage. Something was out there, watching. He couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes upon him, hidden among the darkening trees. His hand unconsciously drifted to the hilt of his sword as he scanned the surroundings, alert for any sign of danger.

He knew. He’d felt the eyes on him for a long now, and now, he was only waiting for it to come and get him. I need to kill it, after all.

A howl pierced the silence, and his horse whinnied in fear. He had to use his strength to stop the animal from bolting.

More howls answered the first, coming from all directions. Whatever these creatures were, they were numerous—and they were closing in.

Massive, clawed shadows flickered amongst the trees. Ethan caught glimpses of matted fur, glowing eyes, and fangs that gleamed. The beasts moved with a terrible swiftness, darting from shadow to shadow.

Then they started to walk forward.

Ethan’s grip tightened on his sword.

The nearest beast padded forward; its massive form now fully visible in the fading light. It was unlike any wolf Ethan had ever encountered.

The creature stood nearly as tall as his horse, its shoulders easily reaching Ethan’s chest even while on all fours. Thick, matted fur covered its body, a mix of deep grays and blacks that seemed to absorb what little light remained. Scars crisscrossed its hide, reaching up to its disproportionately large head, with a muzzle that seemed too long and filled with far too many teeth.

Each fang was the length of Ethan’s finger—no, longer—wickedly curved and gleaming with saliva. But it was the eyes that truly unsettled him: unnaturally large and glowing with an eerie, green light.

Undead.

His expression turned grave.

These appeared to be recently reanimated, too—unlike those weak skeletons.

Muscles rippled beneath the wolf’s fur as it took another step forward, massive paws leaving deep impressions in the forest floor. Wicked claws, easily as long as daggers, scraped against the earth. The beast’s breath came in great, huffing pants, creating small clouds of steam in the cooling air.

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Ethan knew he couldn’t hesitate. He swung down from his horse, giving the animal a sharp slap to send it galloping away. Better to face these monsters on foot than risk his mount being torn apart beneath him.

The lead wolf’s eyes followed the horse for a moment before snapping back to Ethan. A low growl emanated from its chest, quickly taken up by the others surrounding them.

“Come on then,” Ethan muttered, raising his sword. “Let’s dance.”

As if responding, the lead wolf moved with frightening speed. Ethan barely had time to sidestep, feeling the rush of air as razor-sharp claws sliced through the space he’d just occupied. He pivoted, bringing his sword around in a wide arc.

The blade connected, biting deep into the wolf’s flank. The beast howled in pain and fury, whirling to face him again. But Ethan was already moving, and he’d already summoned a gust of wind, using it to propel himself backward and create some distance.

The wolves paused—

—and Ethan used that split second to his advantage.

He reached for the water pouch at his belt, uncorking it with a practiced motion. As the liquid streamed out, Ethan’s will shaped it into a whip-like tendril. With a flick of his wrist, the water lashed out, catching another wolf across the face. The beast yelped in surprise and pain as the water pressure sliced a thin line across its muzzle.

But there was no time to savor small victories.

The pack flanked him.

Ethan knew he couldn’t let them surround him.

A wolf lunged at him from the left. Ethan ducked low, feeling claws almost scrape against his skin. He brought his sword up in a vicious uppercut, catching the beast under the jaw.

The blade bit deep, severing the wolf’s head. Hot blood sprayed across Ethan’s face as the creature collapsed.

Another attacked from behind. Ethan spun, and called upon fire.

Flames billowed from his free hand, engulfing the charging wolf. The beast’s momentum carried it forward, but its howl of pain quickly turned to whimpers as it rolled on the ground, trying to extinguish the flames.

The stench of burned fur filled the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood. Ethan’s senses were overwhelmed for a moment, but he forced himself to focus. There was no room for distraction in this fight.

These were stronger than the skeletons he’d faced. And certainly stronger than the Goblin Lord. Not only that, the wolves had a number advantage. But... I can win.

Two more wolves charged simultaneously, one of which was the pack leader—he assumed.

Ethan leapt high aided by a burst of wind beneath his feet. As he somersaulted over the beasts, his sword flashed out, opening a deep gash along one wolf’s spine followed by a fireball searing through the wound, killing the wolf in an instant. He landed in a crouch, immediately rolling to avoid snapping jaws from the other one.

Rising to his feet, Ethan found himself face to face with the pack leader. The massive wolf’s amber eyes burned. It seemed to recognize that Ethan was no ordinary prey, but that only made the beast more determined to bring him down.

The two circled each other. Ethan could hear the other wolves regrouping behind him, but he didn’t dare take his eyes off the leader.

This, he knew, would be the deciding moment of the battle.

The wolf feinted left, then lunged right with speed Ethan wouldn’t have expected under normal circumstances. But Ethan had been waiting for just such a move. He pivoted on his back foot, bringing his sword around in a powerful, two-handed swing. The blade met flesh and bone, cleaving deep into the wolf’s shoulder.

The beast howled in agony, its charge faltering. But even grievously wounded, it was far from defeated.

Thus, Ethan formed a swirling sphere in his off-hand. As the wolf lunged again, he thrust the water forward. It shot out in a pressurized jet, catching the beast full in the face. The wolf’s head snapped back, momentarily stunned.

Not because it’d hit, but because it was a pathetic attack.

Ethan knew.

It wasn’t even meant to be an attack. Just a distraction.

It was all the opening Ethan needed.

“Die!”

With a yell, he brought his sword down in a devastating arc. The blade bit deep into the wolf’s neck, decapitating it in a single stroke. Hot blood gushed forth as the massive body collapsed at Ethan’s feet.

For a moment, silence washed over the forest again. The remaining wolves stood frozen, as if unable to comprehend what had just happened in mere moments.

Then, as one, they began to back away. Their eyes—that were once filled with predatory hunger—now showed a newfound wariness.

Perhaps even fear.

Ethan stood his ground, sword raised and ready. Blood dripped from the blade.

He was alive—

—and he’d won.

As the last of the wolves melted back into the shadows, Ethan allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.

Ethan cleaned his blade on the fur of the fallen pack leader, then sheathed it with a practiced motion. He took a moment to catch his breath and assess his injuries.

None.

With a sharp whistle, he called for his horse. The animal was trained to recognize whistles—right?

Just as Ethan began to lose hope, it approached cautiously, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood and death that permeated the clearing.

Ethan scratched her for a moment and calmed her down. “Easy there.”

Then, he swung himself into the saddle. Gathering the reins, Ethan urged his mount forward. The sun had fully set now, leaving the forest shrouded in darkness. But he pressed on, knowing that his “quest” was far from over.

And soon, he’d enter the village.

***

Ethan guided his horse through the Thornhaven.

Dilapidated wooden structures loomed on either side of the overgrown main street; their windows boarded up with haphazardly nailed planks. Tattered remnants of curtains fluttered behind cracked panes, like ghostly fingers. Ethan’s mount’s hooves echoed hollowly on the cobblestones.

The village square lay empty and forlorn. A crumbling stone fountain stood at its center, its basin dry and filled with dead leaves.

Ethan dismounted, his boots stirring up small clouds of dust as they hit the ground.

It was time to find the [Necromancer]’s lair.

Let’s see what you’ve got in store, Mr. Malakai.