Jesse grunted, shifting his weight as he adjusted the burden on his back. "Ugh, you're getting too heavy," he muttered, his voice strained but tinged with a hint of teasing.

Yonsil glanced at him, her brows furrowing in an indignant pout. "I'm on a diet," she retorted, her lips pressing into a tight line as she folded her arms. The sunlight caught in her dark, flowing hair, casting a halo-like glow around her head as she stood against the backdrop of the rolling plains.

Jesse sighed, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I have no problems carrying you, my princess," he began, his tone lightening, "but you make me carry all the swords we used." His eyes flicked to the cluster of blades strapped to his back, glinting ominously in the midday sun.

Yonsil's pout deepened, and with a soft huff, she slipped off Jesse’s back, her feet finding the ground with a soft thud. Without a word, she reached for the swords. Jesse caught her wrist gently, his grip firm but tender.

"Don't get pissy now," he warned, his voice gentle but firm as he looked into her eyes.

"I'm not," she shot back, though her tone betrayed the slightest tremor of frustration. She turned her gaze to the horizon, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "You promised you'd carry me," she added, her voice softening to a near whisper.

Jesse sighed, glancing at the path ahead. The air was still, save for the distant rustle of the prairie grass swaying in the breeze. "I know, I know," he replied, his voice soothing as he released her wrist. "But we had a hard fight back there, and we need to investigate the Molemen village before nightfall. Plus, we need to arrive at the Luna Inn before three."

Yonsil chewed on her lip, the conflict playing out in her eyes before she finally nodded. "Fine," she said, relenting. "But you have to buy me something," she added with a hint of mischief, her eyes gleaming like stars beneath the afternoon sky.

"Princess," Jesse replied, his tone mockingly formal as he raised an eyebrow, "do you even know how far the Molemen mine is from here?"

Yonsil smirked, pleased to have the upper hand in their playful exchange. "About forty-five minutes west of the prairies. We’re traveling by horse," she stated confidently. "Some Dwarven guards are stationed nearby, searching for stragglers." Her eyes glinted knowingly as she cast a sidelong glance at him, daring him to contradict her.

Jesse chuckled, shaking his head in mock defeat. "You never cease to amaze me," he said warmly, before offering her his hand. "Come then, let’s get moving."

As they arrived in town, the bustle of market life surrounded them—merchants shouting their wares, the clamor of hooves against cobblestones, the laughter of children playing. Jesse paused at a flower vendor, a young girl no older than twelve, who was tending to an array of blooms.

"One red rose," Jesse requested, his voice softening as he picked the finest bloom from the vendor’s basket and paid her in coin. He turned to Yonsil, presenting the rose with a gallant bow.

Yonsil's eyes widened, a gasp escaping her lips as she accepted the flower. "It’s beautiful," she breathed, her heart swelling with joy. Impulsively, she threw her arms around Jesse, lifting him off his feet as she twirled him in an exuberant dance. The surrounding townsfolk turned to watch, smiles gracing their faces at the sight of young love in bloom.

Rhys and Meryl, standing nearby, exchanged a glance. Meryl sighed dreamily, her eyes reflecting a longing of ages past. "Young love is a beautiful thing," she murmured wistfully. "I wish I could carry you like that," she added with a rueful smile, casting a playful glance at Rhys. "But you’re too stout. If only you were a Halfling and not half-Dwarf."

Rhys scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "She's an Elf, hundreds of years old," he grumbled. "I'm bulky, not fat," he corrected with an indignant sniff.

Meanwhile, Jacques, Keldrin, and Aibine approached on horseback, their mounts—fervia birds and direwolves—stepping gracefully through the throng. Jacques, tall and lean with eyes sharp as a hawk's, called out to the group. "We’ve sold the goods," he announced, a hint of pride in his voice. "Are we ready to leave now?"

Aibine smirked, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she glanced at Yonsil and Jesse. "I’ll lead the way," she said, mounting her horse with a deft swing of her leg. "So that our love-struck princess here can ride with our leader."

Keldrin, silent and brooding, gave a curt nod. "I’ll scout ahead," he stated simply, his voice low and gravelly. He turned to Rhys, eyes cold as steel. "I’ll need arrows. I won’t be using the magic-infused ones Olm gave us."

Rhys nodded, reaching into his quiver. "Here," he said, offering the arrows to Keldrin. "Take what you need, but be mindful. We’re running low."

Jesse approached Jacques, clapping him on the shoulder. "We’re an hour early for the scouting," he remarked, glancing at the sun’s position in the sky.

Jacques nodded, his expression turning serious. "We’ll need to meet with some of the other scouts at the Molemen village," he explained. "Ask them about the condition of the village, and then rendezvous with Quentyn in the Frogfolk village to the south."

Yonsil, still clutching the rose, approached with a determined expression. "I’m ready," she declared, mounting her horse with practiced ease. She held out a hand to Jesse, who joined her on the steed’s back, their forms silhouetted against the golden light of the fading afternoon.

With their company assembled, they rode out of the city, the clamor of civilization giving way to the quiet rustle of woods and the burble of streams. The air grew cooler as they ventured deeper into the forest, the scent of pine and earth heavy around them.

The journey to the camp was fraught with tension as the group ventured deeper into the woods of Serendus. The forest was vast and old, its canopy thick with ancient trees that blocked out much of the afternoon light. Shadows loomed in every corner, stretching ominously as they moved. Jesse’s eyes scanned the undergrowth, muscles tensed and ready, for they all knew what lurked in these dark woods.

The dense foliage rustled with life—some harmless, others not. They had heard tales of the giant spiders that spun webs as strong as steel, of the ghouls and wights that rose from unmarked graves, and of the corpse-eaters that had feasted on the fallen during the civil war of Serendus. Many who traveled this path had perished, either dragged into the webs of monstrous spiders or torn apart by creatures that thrived on death. It was not the destination that worried them but the journey itself.

Meryl, ever vigilant, moved at the center of the party, her hand tracing symbols of protection in the air. Her voice was a low murmur, a prayer to the goddess of light, Aegle, as she prepared repelling seals. Bright blue sigils shimmered briefly in the air, glowing softly before fading into the surroundings. These seals formed a barrier of light that would ward off evil creatures, a faint glow that flickered at the edge of their vision like the comforting embers of a hearth.

"Stay close," Meryl whispered, her eyes sharp and unyielding. "The seals will keep the dark things at bay, but vigilance is our greatest weapon here."

Rhys, his armor reflecting the faint light of the seals, walked beside her. A paladin of formidable strength, he was a beacon to the forces of darkness—a symbol of all they despised. The creatures of the forest, sensing his presence, retreated into the shadows, their malevolent eyes glaring from the darkness. Rhys gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, his gaze steady as he moved forward. The air around him thrummed with the power of his holy aura, casting away the faint whispers of dread that sought to creep into their hearts.

Yonsil, walking close to Jesse, reached out and took his hand. Her touch was gentle, yet her eyes were fierce and determined. "Prepare yourself," she whispered, her voice steady yet tinged with concern. "The woods may teem with life, but the path we walk is dangerous."

Jesse nodded, feeling the warmth of her hand against his. He glanced around at the woods, noticing that despite the lurking dangers, the forest was still vibrant. Deer bounded through the trees, their eyes watchful but unafraid of the passing company. Monitor lizards basked on sunlit rocks, their tongues flickering out to taste the air. Boars snorted and foraged through the undergrowth, and rabbits darted across the trail, leaving only the briefest of rustles in their wake. Life persisted here, thriving amid the death and darkness that hung over Serendus.

"Even in war, the forest remains alive," Jesse remarked, his voice soft as he took in the sight. It was a reminder that, despite the horrors of battle and the foul creatures prowling in the shadows, nature endured.

"Yes," Yonsil agreed, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "But it also hides danger. Do not let your guard down."

The company advanced with caution, their eyes sweeping over every shadow, every rustle of leaves. Though the beasts of the forest watched them, none dared approach. Whether it was the power of Meryl's seals, the presence of Rhys, or the vigilance of the group as a whole, the creatures kept their distance. It was an uneasy truce, the wild and the weary travelers walking side by side in a fragile peace.

As they pushed on, the path grew narrower, and the forest thickened around them like a cocoon. The air turned cooler, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and decay, a reminder of the ancient battles that had been fought and lost in these woods. Despite this, they pressed forward, driven by their mission and the knowledge that danger lay not only in the journey but also in the tasks awaiting them.

Finally, the encampment came into view, a small cluster of tents and barricades huddled against the encroaching wilderness. Jesse breathed a quiet sigh of relief, though he knew their trials were far from over. As they approached, the company straightened their shoulders, preparing for whatever lay ahead. With Yonsil's hand still clasped in his, Jesse felt a spark of hope. Together, they would face whatever darkness loomed in the heart of Serendus.

They emerged at last near the encampment, a small outpost led by Jornak, Knight Captain of Serendus. The camp sprawled out in a haphazard array of tents and hastily constructed barricades. Soldiers and militiamen milled about, their armor battered and rusted, bearing the marks of poor maintenance. They moved with an air of fatigue, their eyes hollow from sleepless nights. It was clear they were not seasoned warriors; they were farmers and laborers conscripted to hold the line, and their lack of training was painfully evident in their awkward stances and poorly fitted armor.

Jesse dismounted, his gaze sweeping over the encampment with a discerning eye. The road ahead would not be easy, and the weight of the coming tasks settled heavily on his shoulders. But with Yonsil by his side, the path seemed just a bit more bearable, the shadows a little less daunting. Together, they would face whatever lay in wait within the darkness of the Molemen's domain.

Jesse and his companions approached the center of the camp, where Jornak, Knight Captain of Serendus, stood amidst the makeshift tents and gathered militia. He was a stout man, his armor worn but polished, his eyes sharp and seasoned with the wisdom of many battles. As Jesse drew near, Jornak dipped into a deep bow, an act that immediately drew the attention of the camp.

"Future champion of the arena and the hero of Eire," Jornak intoned, his voice carrying across the clearing. "It is an honor to meet you at last. I pray that fortune favors you in the days to come." There was a glint of respect in his eyes as he straightened, his posture as rigid as a statue.

Jesse blinked in surprise. "How do you know of me?" he asked, genuinely curious as he regarded the knight.

Jornak's mouth curved into a knowing smile. "Top-ranking soldiers have been talking about you," he replied, his voice low but clear. "They are placing their bets on your victory. You will not face an ordinary fighter in the arena, young hero."

Jesse raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "An extraordinary fighter?" he echoed.

"Aye," Jornak affirmed, his expression growing grim. "An exotic warrior from the Badlands. Skilled, ruthless, and driven by the darkness that lurks in those desolate lands. You will have your hands full, I assure you."

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Jesse considered this, the weight of the revelation settling over him like a shroud. But his attention quickly turned to the state of the camp around them. He frowned as he surveyed the soldiers milling about—most of whom were clearly farmers, their hands calloused from the plow rather than the sword. Their armor hung loosely on their frames, and their movements were awkward, uncertain.

"Why is the camp in such a state?" Jesse asked, his voice laced with concern. "Why are you using daytalers and farmers for scouting missions? These men look like they have never held a blade before."

Jornak sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as if the burden of command pressed down on him like a mountain. "It’s not by choice," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "It’s rough seeing them here, fighting with no training. They’re as good as fodder in the wilds. That’s why I’ve stalled the search for the goblin raiders."

Yonsil stepped forward, her eyes narrowing in irritation. "If the goblin scouts have already seen us, we’re sitting ducks," she pointed out, her voice sharp. "You’re risking an ambush by not moving."

Jornak nodded, acknowledging her concern. "You are right, Princess," he replied, his tone respectful yet firm. "But understand, these men barely know the basics of forming a circle or holding a spear wall. They would die in woodland warfare or in a direct assault on the Molemen village. Sending them out now would be suicide."

Aibine, standing with her arms crossed, regarded Jornak coolly. "Have you tried scouting the village, then?" she asked.

Jornak grimaced, casting a glance towards the forest beyond. "We have," he admitted. "The goblins are entrenched in the houses and the underground systems. The tunnels connect to the mines and lead to Drakthar, their main encampment. We tried to flush them out, but they know those tunnels better than we ever could."

Jesse’s jaw tightened as he listened. "Then we'll deal with the goblin scouts ourselves," he declared, his voice steady. "But we will need your assistance."

Jornak’s eyes searched Jesse’s for a long moment before he nodded. "You’ll have it," he promised. "My men may be untrained, but we will fight with you. The goblins shall fall, even if it costs us dearly."

Jacques stepped forward, his gaze scanning the woods. "How many goblins are moving through the forest?" he asked, his voice level and professional.

Jornak glanced at him, his expression grim. "At most, we’ve seen groups of eight to twenty, maybe more," he replied. "Goblins are like a plague; they breed faster than we can track them. A blight upon this land, courtesy of the dark lord Voldrath."

Jesse nodded, filing away the information as he looked back at the camp. Why not deploy trained soldiers?"

"Most of our trained soldiers are engaged elsewhere," Jornak explained, his tone growing somber. "They’re scattered across the provinces and the mountains, fighting against Bruin's forces, which grow stronger with each passing day."

"And why is it so hard to subdue them?" Jesse pressed.

Jornak’s eyes darkened, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight. "Because the peasants support him," he admitted. "Bruin speaks their tongue, understands their plight. If only he and the king could have reconciled, this conflict might have been avoided."

Keldrin, who had been listening quietly, took a step forward. There was an unusual softness in his gaze as he noticed a single tear tracing down Jornak’s cheek. "Were you… friends with Bruin?" he asked gently.

Jornak stiffened, his gaze fixed on the ground. "I was one of his trusted guards," he confessed, his voice cracking slightly. "But when the war began, I chose to fight for Serendus, even though deep down, I know it feels… wrong." He swallowed hard, his face contorting with a mixture of guilt and anger. "King Aethred might have had his reasons, but Aamon, his son, is a cruel man. I serve because I must, not because I believe."

Rhys approached, placing a reassuring hand on Jornak's shoulder. "When the war is over," he began, his voice filled with quiet resolve, "we will drink together as brothers, in a time of peace."

Jornak managed a weak smile, nodding. "Aye," he agreed. Clearing his throat, he turned to Yonsil and Aibine. "In honor of you both," he said, his voice growing poetic. "A verse for the beauty of elves, and to wish you strength in the battles ahead." He raised his voice, reciting a poem that resonated through the clearing:

"Grace of stars and forest's embrace,

Eyes like moonlight upon the seas,

May your courage light our darkened pace,

And bring forth peace from stormy seas."

The poem lingered in the air, casting a brief, solemn peace over the gathering. Meryl stepped forward, clasping her hands together in a gesture of prayer. "May all of you return safely to your families," she whispered, her eyes closing as if invoking the blessing of some distant deity.

Jornak straightened, turning back to his soldiers. "Form up!" he commanded, his voice slicing through the stillness. "It’s time for you to see combat. Today, you will face the darkness. Remember your training, hold the line, and fight with honor."

The soldiers scrambled to obey, their faces pale but set with determination. Jesse watched them, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the dangers ahead. Yet as Yonsil joined him, her presence was a beacon of light amid the encroaching shadows. Together, they would face whatever lay ahead, their fates intertwined on the battlefield and beyond.

The forest was silent, save for the soft rustling of leaves overhead. Jesse scanned the tree line, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword as he sensed the tension in the air. Beside him, Jornak stood stoically, his eyes scanning their surroundings with the intensity of a wolf on the hunt. Four groups of eighty soldiers, their faces grim but determined, formed up in ranks, encircling their captains. They knew what was out there—an ambush, waiting to spring. The goblins were lurking somewhere in the dense undergrowth, and the knowledge weighed heavily upon the men.

Jacques, sharp-eyed and calculating, observed the terrain. His mind raced as he considered their options. "If we stay in these trees, they'll have the advantage," he muttered, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "We need to draw them out into open ground."

Jesse nodded. "They’ll pick us off one by one if we let them have the forest," he replied. "What’s your plan, Jacques?"

Jacques's eyes gleamed with a sudden idea. "We bait them. Retreat to the open space near the clearing we passed earlier. Once they're in the open, I’ll cast a fire spell. Aibine can strengthen it with her elemental skills, and Yonsil’s wind sylphs can create a whirlwind of fire. That should decimate their ranks."

Jornak grunted in approval. "It’s a risky move, but it might be our best chance. Goblins are bold but not invincible." He turned to his men, raising his voice. "Prepare to fall back to the clearing! Hold the line until we give the signal!"

Jesse nodded to Yonsil, who raised her hand, summoning the sylphs to her side. A gust of wind swirled around her, her hair fluttering as if caught in an unseen current. Aibine joined her, her eyes closed as she murmured incantations to call forth the elemental energy within her. The stage was set.

A crack of branches to their left shattered the silence. The goblins sprang from the shadows, a screeching horde of green and red, brandishing jagged weapons. The soldiers tensed, raising their shields as the first wave crashed against them like a storm-driven tide.

"Fall back!" Jesse roared, slashing at a goblin who lunged at him with a crude spear. His sword gleamed in the dim forest light as he cut through the creature’s defenses, sending it sprawling to the ground. "To the clearing! Hold the line!"

Jornak’s voice boomed over the din of battle, rallying the soldiers. "Retreat in formation! Hold your ranks!" His sword cleaved through a goblin attempting to flank him, sending the creature tumbling into the underbrush with a guttural cry.

Slowly, methodically, the soldiers pulled back. The goblins pursued, their eyes wild with bloodlust as they charged into the trap. Jacques waited until they were near the edge of the clearing before he raised his staff, his voice ringing out in a spell of power. Flames flickered at its tip, then surged forward like a wave of molten fury.

"Now, Aibine!" Jacques shouted. Aibine raised her hands, and the ground beneath them vibrated with the hum of elemental magic. The flames leaped higher, swirling and growing in intensity as she channeled her energy into the spell.

"Wind, come forth!" Yonsil cried, her voice rising above the cacophony. Her sylphs darted forward, circling the fire with a gust of wind that twisted and coiled around the flames. In an instant, the clearing erupted into a whirlwind of fire, a blazing vortex that roared through the goblin ranks with the ferocity of a dragon's breath.

The goblins shrieked as the fiery maelstrom consumed them, their green forms silhouetted briefly in the inferno before being swept away in the blaze. The forest echoed with the screams of the dying, the flames crackling like a beast devouring its prey.

Jesse didn't pause to revel in the spectacle. His focus shifted, sensing movement in the shadows behind them. A secondary force of goblins surged from the underbrush, trying to catch them off guard. "Jornak, to the right!" he barked, swinging his blade to intercept a goblin wielding a net.

Jornak pivoted, his shield slamming into the oncoming goblins. "Archers, fire!" he commanded. The soldiers loosed arrows into the trees, bringing down several goblins who sought to flank them.

Rhys and Meryl, standing beside Jesse, raised their hands. "Light, cleanse this darkness!" Meryl intoned, her voice echoing with the power of her spell. Blinding beams of light shot forward, slicing through the air and piercing the goblins that skulked in the shadows.

The forest echoed with the chaos of battle. Jesse moved like a whirlwind, his dual blades—Devil’s Dance—glinting ominously in the dim light as they slashed through goblin flesh. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the acrid stench of magic. As the goblins surged toward them in relentless waves, Jesse's focus shifted, sensing a second group of attackers lying in wait, hidden in the shadows of the forest.

"Jornak, to the right!" Jesse barked, cutting down a goblin wielding a net. He could feel the darkness gathering around him, the cold, creeping sensation of the forbidden magic he had learned to wield. But to use it effectively, he needed more than just willpower—he needed to remember Yonsil’s words.

For a heartbeat, the clamor of battle faded. In his mind, he recalled Yonsil’s steady voice, spoken during one of their training sessions. "For dark magic to be stronger, you must channel your fear into excitement. Fear alone is a cage. Excitement breaks the chains and unleashes your true power."

Jesse closed his eyes briefly, feeling his heart pound in his chest, each beat a reminder of the danger surrounding him. A sliver of fear rose within him as the shadows pressed in, but he grasped at it, twisting it into something else—thrill, exhilaration. His pulse quickened, and a grin spread across his face as he opened his eyes, the fear morphing into a fierce excitement that thrummed through his veins. He could feel the magic respond, growing hotter, more intense.

"Devil’s Dance, let’s show them our strength!" he shouted, the name of his dual blades carrying power into the air around him. With a surge of excitement, he raised the blades high, their edges shimmering with an unnatural darkness. The shadows at his feet rippled, spreading outward like an ink stain across the forest floor.

Jesse felt a chill sweep over him as he closed his eyes, focusing inwardly. He recalled the technique—the "Devil's Dance," a forbidden magic of shadows and darkness. With a whisper, he unleashed the spell. A shadowy fog seeped from his blades, curling around the forest floor and spreading outward. The goblins, caught in the fog, staggered and cried out, their vision obscured as they fumbled blindly in the dark.

"Now!" Jesse roared, his voice carrying through the darkened woods. Rhys and Meryl stood beside him, their hands raised as they channeled beams of light magic into the fog. The light and darkness twisted together, creating a dazzling, disorienting whirl that sent the goblins reeling.

The realization surged through him as the darkness became an extension of his will, twisting and lashing out at the goblins, forcing them into disarray. The goblins, caught between the shadowy fog and the blinding light magic of Rhys and Meryl, stumbled and fell. In that moment, Jesse understood that his magic was not just about power; it was about how he wielded his emotions, turning dread into a weapon as sharp as his blades.

The goblins, now panicked and broken, began to scatter. Jesse's pulse hammered in his ears as he pressed forward, feeling the thrill of the fight grip him like a vice. Devil's Dance spun in his hands, a whirling blur of dark metal that carved through their ranks, sending them fleeing toward the safety of the abandoned Molemen village.

Jesse’s grin widened as he maneuvered through the shadows he had conjured, his excitement amplifying the magic. His blades danced in the gloom, cutting down goblins left and right. The darkness swirled around him, empowered by the thrill coursing through his blood. He moved with a newfound fluidity, the Devil’s Dance responding to his exhilaration, each swing of his blades a deadly arc that felled any goblin in his path.

“Fear is not our enemy,” he murmured to himself, echoing Yonsil's teaching. “It’s the key to unlocking power.”

The goblins, now panicked and broken, began to scatter. Jesse's pulse hammered in his ears as he pressed forward, feeling the thrill of the fight grip him like a vice. Devil's Dance spun in his hands, a whirling blur of dark metal that carved through their ranks, sending them fleeing toward the safety of the abandoned Molemen village.

Keldrin dashed forward, his bow drawn. He notched an arrow and loosed it with practiced precision, striking down a goblin archer hiding among the branches. "Stay down!" he shouted, loosing arrow after arrow. His direwolves prowled at his side, tearing into goblins that dared to approach.

The goblins wielding nets hurled them towards the soldiers, aiming to entangle their legs and bring them down. Keldrin snarled, drawing his dagger and slicing through the nets as they fell. "Not today!" he growled, lunging forward to spear another goblin through the heart.

The battle raged on, the forest echoing with the clash of steel, the cries of the wounded, and the roar of the flames. Slowly, inexorably, Jesse and his forces pushed the goblins back. With each passing moment, their enemy’s numbers dwindled. Desperation filled the eyes of the goblins as they found themselves pressed against the edge of the clearing.

"Retreat!" a goblin chieftain screeched, waving its gnarled staff. The remaining goblins turned tail, fleeing towards the abandoned Molemen village in a frenzied dash.

Jacques moved to pursue, but his eyes caught the edge of the forest where shadows lurked. He held up his hand. "Halt!" he commanded. "Do not give chase. They are leading us into a trap. We will retake the village after Jesse wins his battle in the arena."

Jesse nodded, panting as he wiped the blood from his blade. "He’s right," he affirmed. "We’ve done enough here. We can’t risk our men any further."

Jornak, bloodied but unbroken, sheathed his sword and turned to his soldiers. "The enemy is routed!" he called, his voice ringing with authority. "Three-fourths of their horde lies in ashes or scattered in fear!"

A cheer erupted from the soldiers, a sound that reverberated through the trees like a triumphant hymn. "Sing their praises!" Rhys bellowed, raising his sword high. The men took up the chant, a song of victory, of defiance against the darkness that sought to claim their lives.

As the echoes of their triumph faded, Jacques turned to Jesse. "Let’s move to the Frogfolk camp," he said quietly. "The village will be ours in time. For now, we rest and regroup."

Jesse nodded, casting one last glance toward the burning clearing. The goblins would not forget this day, nor would they rest easy knowing that the forces of Serendus had struck them so deeply. With Yonsil at his side and his companions ready to face whatever lay ahead, he mounted his horse.

"To the Frogfolk camp!" Jornak commanded, leading the way. The soldiers fell in line behind him, their voices raised in song, carrying the tale of their victory into the forest as they marched toward their next challenge.