The dense canopy of Forester’s Veil shrouded the burial site, entangling it in ancient roots. The air, thick with damp earth and the whisper of unseen creatures, carried an ominous weight. Towering trees groaned like ancient sentinels, their branches swaying in time with the wind’s mournful howl.
Beyond them, the jagged silhouettes of the Lost Peaks pierced the mist, their ominous forms keeping a silent vigil over the graveyard. Few ventured near these peaks, where Voidfiends—ancient, inky creatures—roamed in greater numbers, prowling the land and were driven irresistibly to devour the magic of any who wielded it. The creatures haunted battlefields, feeding on clashing spells and twisting the fate of wars with chaotic precision.
The Voidfiends were not the only shadows cast over this place. The mist whispered, heavy with secrets, darkness thickening around the stones, drifting like whispers of an ancient sorrow.
Suddenly, a sharp snap echoed through the quiet forest. Footsteps followed, breaking the stillness. Two figures darted between trees, breath ragged, shadows consuming their movements. The hunter’s steps mirrored the heartbeat of his prey, pulling them deeper into the maze of trees. The mist twisted around them, parting and reforming as they neared a hidden sanctum.
The Healer’s boots sank into damp earth, yet he moved relentlessly. His bright eyes, tinged with exhaustion, flickered with determination as he leapt over gravestones, his red hair trailing like a flame in the wind.
He was an Eldari Healer, bound to protect life with the sun’s magic—yet now he pursued one who sought ruin. Exhausted from the long chase, he tapped into the sun energy stored in his staff, pushing back against the darkness closing in.
The moist earth stirred memories of the battlefield, where hidden threats and uncertainty loomed. His heart pounded, haunted by faces, lost lives, and horrors brought by her people, tearing through armies like shadows at dusk.
Ahead, the Necromancer moved, a dark figure disturbing the graveyard’s silence. Her black robes, trailing like raven wings, embodied the darkness her kind unleashed, casting her as a shadow against the night.
At one point, her gaze drifted briefly toward the Lost Peaks, a flicker of resolve in her silver eyes as if drawn to something only she could see.
The air turned biting cold as he closed in, but her movements were strange—each step deliberate, almost graceful. Something about the way she moved shook him.
His pulse quickened as he vaulted over a tombstone, closing the distance. But he quickly pushed the thought away. No—she was the enemy. Nothing more.
A flicker of doubt unsettled his resolve. He forced it aside. Secrets may lie in her motives, but his duty to stop her outweighed any flickering questions.
The words of his elders echoed in his mind: 'Never trust those who walk with death.' To the Eldari, Necromancers were enemies of life, violators of the natural order—the cycle of life that bound all things.
Memories of the battlefield surged again despite himself—flashes of gold and silver magic, the creaking bodies of the undead, and the sudden crashes of Voidfiends tearing through the fray. His people had fought the Tharak for generations, and Necromancers were deemed their greatest threat. Yet it was the memory of the Voidfiends, with their monstrous, magic-infused forms, that stirred dread deep within him.
The horror of watching them drain a body of all magic and life, leaving only a hollow shell, rivaled even the terror of the Tharak Necromancers raising the dead. He could only hope his magic-fueled chase wouldn’t draw their attention, bringing those dark creatures back to him.
She glanced over her shoulder, silver eyes meeting his. For a fleeting second, he saw something—fear and exhaustion, perhaps? A heavy burden that seemed to weigh on her as much as it did on him.
But then her face hardened, and she turned away, increasing her speed. The Healer shook his head. No, she’s the enemy.
The cemetery opened before them, the tombstones standing like silent witnesses to their chase. The mist curled tighter around them as if the very air sought to trap them both in this eternal dance between life and death.
His muscles screamed with fatigue, but the weight of his duty pushed him forward. He couldn’t let her succeed. Whatever she was planning, it would unravel everything his people had fought to protect.
His grip tightened on his staff, the sun’s warmth pulsing through the carved wood. He could feel the energy building, urging him to strike, to end this before she reached her goal. But something held him back—a growing uncertainty about the woman he chased.
Unbidden, a strange power reached him—something he had never sensed before. Her steps slowed as she approached the largest crypt, and a tension crept over him. This graveyard held more than just the dead; it held something ancient, something quietly dangerous. If she tapped into it, the delicate balance between life and death could shift.
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The Healer couldn’t let that happen. He called on his magic, golden light flaring in his palms.
But before he could unleash it, her voice rang out, cutting through the mist. “Why do you chase me, Eldari? You can’t see it yet, but I am not your enemy. I’m fighting for the same balance you are.”
Her words hung in the air like a challenge, but the Healer’s resolve did not waver. “You threaten everything I protect,” he growled, raising his staff higher. “And I will not stand by and watch you bring ruin.”
The Necromancer stepped forward, her silver eyes flashing with something between frustration and desperation. “You don’t understand! If you stop me, you’ll doom us all.”
Her hand drifted briefly toward her neck, and the Healer noticed a faint, unnatural glow beneath her cloak—a pendant, or perhaps something more. She caught his gaze on it and said sharply, “The amulet is essential to my mission—a divine mission. Without it, balance will fail. My goddess decreed it, and I must see it done. It’s the only way to ensure survival.”
A tense silence stretched between them, broken only by the eerie rustle of trees. For a moment, he hesitated. He’d been taught that Necromancers brought only death and destruction. And yet, here stood one trying to prevent catastrophe. Could she be telling the truth?
Before he could find an answer, the air between them crackled, thick with magic. The Necromancer’s hands flew up, drawing a long staff from the folds of her cloak, which shimmered with the silver energy of the full moon’s power.
“You leave me no choice,” she hissed, her voice strained.
With a flick of her wrist, silver mist spiraled from her staff. A cold wind swept through the cemetery, biting into his skin. But before the icy mist could reach him, he slammed his staff into the ground, erecting a golden barrier around himself. His body sagged, and he could feel himself reaching the end of his reserves.
The Necromancer’s silver eyes widened for a moment before narrowing with frustration. She hadn’t expected him to wield his power so effectively.
Suddenly, thick and gnarled roots clawed at the ground as they reached for her, but she wasn’t swayed. With a sharp gesture, she thrust her staff forward, and a wave of icy mist shot from her hands. The air turned frigid, and the temperature plummeted further. Frost spread across the oncoming roots, freezing them solid in an instant.
The Healer gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his brow. The silver frost spread faster, the ice clinking as it expanded. With a growl, he channeled more sunlight into the barrier, the warmth radiating from it pushing back the frost.
“I won’t let you desecrate this ground,” he spat, tightening his grip on his staff.
Her breath came in ragged gasps as she straightened, eyes locked onto the Healer. “You think you can stop me, but you don’t understand what’s coming. You’re fighting for a world that’s already lost.” Her voice seemed rich with sorrow.
The Healer didn’t respond, his eyes narrowed as he prepared another spell. The golden barrier around him flickered and pulsed, light pouring out from the staff in his hand. “Enough of this!” he shouted, spinning the staff in a wide arc.
A dome of radiant sunlight burst forth, expanding rapidly, pushing back the mist and the cold.
The Necromancer stumbled, shielding her eyes from the sudden blaze of light. But her retreat was cut short as the ground beneath them began to tremble, sending ripples through the earth. Dark, twisted shapes of Voidfiends emerged from the forest, their grotesque, inky bodies writhing as they sensed the pulse of gold and silver magic in the air. Trees crashed to the ground, knocked aside by the creatures as they advanced, mindless in their hunt.
The Healer’s blood ran cold at the sight and his heart pounded painfully. “Voidfiends,” he muttered, dread curling in his gut. His eyes snapped to the Necromancer, urgency in his voice. “They’re drawn by the clash of our magic. We’ve brought them here.”
The Necromancer’s silver eyes flickered with alarm as she turned to see the approaching horrors. “No,” she whispered, her usual confidence faltering. “Goddess help us.”
The Healer nodded, gripping his staff tighter. “We have to stop this. If we keep fighting, they’ll feed on both of us—and neither of us will survive.”
For a moment, the Necromancer hesitated, her gaze flickering between the advancing creatures and the Healer. She clenched her jaw, acknowledging the truth in his words.
“Forgive me,” she murmured as she stepped forward, her cloak and staff glowing with a deep silver light as her stored energy surged to life, spilling out in radiant arcs. The silver light seeped into the ground as she began to summon the dead, calling ancient spirits to rise in defense.
One by one, skeletal hands clawed through the soil, and ghastly forms rose, their hollow eyes reflecting the silver glow, filling the graveyard with an unearthly presence that pulsed in time with her spell. The decayed bodies staggered between the Voidfiends and their summoner, creating a temporary barricade. She turned back to the Healer, urgency in her eyes.
“We need to get out of here,” she replied, her voice tight with weariness. “There’s a large crypt ahead—if we can reach it, they won’t be able to get inside.”
The Healer didn’t hesitate. He funneled the last of his stored energy into his body and dashed toward the crypt’s entrance, the Necromancer keeping pace at his side.
They reached the heavy stone doors and heaved them open, slipping through and sealing them shut with a resounding slam. For a moment, silence settled around them, broken only by the distant, enraged howls of the Voidfiends, furious at having lost their prey.
The Healer collapsed against the stone wall, chest heaving. The golden light in his staff flickered weakly, the last remnants of his magic fading. Beside him, the Necromancer leaned against the entrance, her face pale but determined.
“We’re safe...for now,” she murmured, glancing at him. “But they’ll wait.”
The Healer nodded, his heart still racing. His gaze met hers briefly, reluctance flashing across his face before he murmured, “Grateful you...saved us.” The words seemed to cost him dearly, and the Necromancer blinked, momentarily taken aback. Gratitude was the last thing she’d expected from him.
As she looked at him, she couldn’t ignore the courage it took to express even that small thanks. She hesitated, her gaze drifting down toward the amulet beneath her cloak. It pulsed with a faint, unsettling glow, adding weight to the silence between them.
“I’m trying to stop the end,” she whispered. “Perhaps now you’ll believe me?”
Outside, the Voidfiends howled, their claws scraping against the crypt’s entrance. Whatever truth lay within her words, the Healer knew one thing: they would now have to face it together, whether they trusted each other or not.