"..." Castrol, his own thoughts racing, could only nod in agreement. The city of Sovereign was renowned for its impenetrable walls, its bustling markets, and the pious clergy that safeguarded its citizens. The mere idea that these hunters had ventured out into the wilderness was as perplexing as the transformed fleur deer.

Their curiosity piqued, Arteus, Castrol, and Wyatt watched the human hunters with the stealth of shadows. They had come prepared to face the corrupted beasts, yet the sight of their fellow men so close to these monsters was unnerving. The hunters moved with a grace that suggested they had been born to this harsh land, their eyes never leaving the fleur deer as they approached, their steps sure and silent as the snowfall itself.

Arteus' heart raced with the excitement of discovery. Had these men found a new way to coexist with the prophecy's twisted creations? His mind buzzed with questions. What tactics had they employed to survive in such a harsh environment? What secrets did they hold that could help them in their own quest to reach Sovereign?

Castrol and Wyatt exchanged a look that spoke of their shared skepticism. Yet, curiosity gnawed at them too, and they remained hidden, their eyes glued to the approaching figures.

The alpha of the fleur deer, a creature that could have been mistaken for a myth if not for its very real presence, had ears that perked up at the faintest of sounds, a testament to its survival instincts honed over millennia. It had survived the harshest of winters and the fiercest of predators, its antlers a crown of victory over countless battles. As the humans drew nearer, their steps a cacophony in the otherwise silent symphony of the wilderness, the creature's senses sharpened, its muscles coiling like a spring ready to unleash.

Arteus could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable as the scent of impending danger filled his nostrils. His eyes never left the deer, his breath shallow and even as he waited for the precise moment to act. He knew the hunters from Sovereign were unaware of the beasts they pursued. The moment of truth was upon them, and he could almost hear the heartbeats of the humans quicken in anticipation and fear.

It was then that his sixth sense, that unexplained intuition honed from a life of solitude and survival, whispered to him of an impending doom. Was it the fleur deer that would bring them harm? Something else??

As if in answer, the alpha of the corrupted fleur deer herd suddenly swiveled its monstrous head a full 360 degrees. Its eyes, once the gentle pools of wisdom, were now twin orbs of malevolence that bore into the very soul of the hidden hunters. And then, from its throat, a sound erupted that could only be likened to the shriek of a thousand banshees, a wail that shattered the quiet of the forest and sent a chill down the spines of the men.

The noise was so piercing, so overwhelming, that it seemed to paralyze the very air around them. Trees bent inward as if in silent prayer, and even the snow itself paused in its descent, caught in the thrall of the beast's unearthly cry. The humans, their eyes wide with terror, were rooted to the spot, their muscles locking up as the sound washed over them like a tidal wave of fear.

Arteus, despite his own trembling, tried to remain focused on the task at hand. His hand reached for the axe at his side, the smooth wood of the handle feeling cold and foreign in his grasp. His heart hammered in his chest, a drumbeat of dread that threatened to drown out the very thoughts that raced through his mind. He watched the hunters, their expressions a mirror to the chaos that was unfolding before them.

And yet, amidst the stoic stupor that caught the hunters, there was one who remained unfazed. A young boy, no more than twelve winters old, stood sentinel, his eyes locked on the beast that wailed a banshee's shriek.

The boy, looked around at his paralyzed kinfolk, confusion knitting his brows into a furrowed line. His thoughts swirled like a tempest in his mind, a cacophony of doubt and curiosity. Why did they stand there, frozen in place like statues, as the very air around them trembled with the deer's cry?

Before he could act, the alpha of the corrupted herd took the initiative. It opened its mouth in a gruesome display, revealing a maw that split into four distinct segments, each one more terrifying than the last. The creature's tongue, which stretched out like a serpent from the abyss, shot forth with the speed of an arrow loosed from a bow. It slithered into the ear of one of the hunters, and the man was raised from the ground, his eyes rolling back in his head.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The boy watched in horror as the other fleur deer mimicked their leader, their tongues snaking out to claim their prey. Each hunter was targeted with a precision that suggested a coordinated attack, a dance of death that had been practiced over many dark moons. They writhed and screamed, their bodies contorted in agony as the creatures feasted on their very thoughts.

Arteus' hand clutched the axe handle with renewed vigor, his knuckles white with the force of his grip. Yet, as he tried to bring the weapon to bear, he found himself unable to move. His limbs had turned to lead, his body a prison of his own fear. He could feel the cold sweat trickle down his back, a slick reminder of his mortality.

Panic set in as he looked to Castrol and Wyatt, expecting them to spring into action, only to find them as immobilized as he was. Their eyes were wide with terror, their mouths open in silent screams as the corrupted fleur deer's shrieks continued to echo through the forest. The very earth seemed to tremble beneath their feet, a silent testament to the power that had overtaken them.

But from the corner of his eye, Arteus caught a flicker of movement. The young boy from Sovereign, free of any paralysis sprinted towards the alpha deer and trapped hunter.

The boy was shouting something, his voice a distant echo to Arteus's ears, as he tried to free the man from the grip of the creature's horrific tongue.

Arteus' instincts screamed at him to act, but his body remained stubbornly rooted to the spot, a silent sentinel to the horror unfolding before him. His eyes widened in a desperate bid to warn the child of the approaching danger, his throat straining to produce a sound that was swallowed whole by the deafening wails of the fleur deer.

And then, as if the nightmare had taken a sudden, bizarre turn, he watched in disbelief as human arms grew from the alpha deer's neck, reaching out to clutch at it's antlers. The fleur deer's weakness. The limbs, were pale and translucent, with fingers that had visible red nail polish on them. The sight was so surreal, so utterly beyond the bounds of reality, that for a heartbeat, he questioned the very sanity of the world around him.

With a strength that defied logic, the arms wrenched the antlers free from the creature's skull. The shriek of the deer abruptly ceased, replaced by the sound of the creature's skull cracking like ice beneath a heavy boot. The alpha's body collapsed, it's massive weight landing on the boy from Sovereign. Arteus could see the child's eyes widen in a silent scream, his body crumpled under the beast's bulk. The snow around them stained crimson with the boy's blood, a stark contrast to the pristine whiteness of the surrounding landscape.

The sudden release of the alpha's hold on the hunters seemed to break the spell that had held them captive. The paralysis lifted, and the men staggered, their eyes wild with fear and confusion. The corrupted fleur deer, their hunger for human thoughts now unquenched, turned to flee, their once majestic forms now twisted and monstrous in the flickering light of the bonfire.

With a roar that seemed to shake the very earth beneath them, Arteus found his strength returned. He threw his axe with a ferocity born of anger and desperation, the weapon spinning through the air like a fiery comet, a silent scream of retribution. His eyes never left the fleeing herd, his aim as true as the beating of his heart.

The axe met its target with a sickening thud, tearing the head clean off one of the corrupted fleur deer. The creature's body collapsed to the ground, its life force extinguished in a spray of dark, oily blood that stained the pristine snow. The deer's head, still attached to the axe by a grisly thread of tissue, spun through the air before coming to rest a few feet away.

Arteus, now free from the paralyzing fear, leapt into action. His eyes searched the carnage before him, and his heart lurched as he spotted the crumpled form of the young boy beneath the alpha deer's body. He sprinted through the snow, his breaths coming in harsh, ragged gasps, the cold biting at his skin like a pack of ravenous wolves.

"Hang on!" he bellowed, the words tearing themselves from his throat as he approached the lifeless boy. "I'll get help!" Arteus' words seemed to hang in the air for an eternity as he landed on the snow.

But before he could complete his assurance, another voice, as sweet and beguiling as the siren's call itself, whispered from the shadows.

"There is no need."

The voice was like a melody, a hauntingly beautiful sound that seemed to resonate from the very core of the earth itself. Arteus's heart skipped a beat as he watched in stunned amazement as more arms grew from the alpha deer's carcass. The limbs, a ghastly imitation of human appendages, emerged from the creature's neck, their fingers splayed and painted a crimson that matched the lifeblood seeping into the snow beneath them.

With a sickening squelch, the alpha deer's body shifted, the new limbs working in a gruesome parody of life to push the creature off the boy. The beast's corrupted flesh quivered and stretched as it struggled to regain purchase on the slick ground, its antlerless head lolling to one side, eyes vacant and empty of any intelligence. The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying, a testament to the prophecy's insidious power to warp and twist the very fabric of existence.

Arteus, shocked, looked in the direction of the voice.

"Mage," he hissed, his hand trembling as he clutched at the daggar in his mid-rib.

-To Be Continued-