Skarath charged forward, his heart heavy but his hands steady as his weapon—a serrated halberd, its blade shimmering with faint magical runes—swung down toward the Myssirith. The blade, imbued with a faint blue glow, sliced through the air, designed for both slicing and piercing, a weapon that bridged his strength as a warrior and his connection to the magic of Aether.

As he moved, roots burst from the ground, writhing and twisting like serpents themselves. Leira and Elyndra were already locked in a battle to keep the roots and the beast at bay, flames clashing with the enchanted tendrils that sought to entrap them. The corrupted energy of the forest pressed against them all, the Myssirith feeding from it as if drawing strength from every darkened vine.

The Myssirith hissed, its immense body coiling back, the sheer size of it an overwhelming force. But Skarath’s halberd found its mark, slashing across the serpent’s scaled side. The blow was deep, but the beast barely flinched. Instead, it retaliated with a violent twist of its body, its tail swinging with bone-crushing force toward Skarath, while the ground beneath him quaked from the uprooted trees and roots now turned against them.

Skarath barely managed to leap back, the ground beneath him shaking as the tail crashed into the earth. He gritted his teeth, using the momentum to spin and swing his halberd again. This time, the Myssirith’s eyes locked with his—those ancient, corrupted orbs—and for a moment, the serpent hesitated, as if recognizing its kin in him. But there was no time to dwell, as another wave of enchanted roots erupted, aiming to ensnare his legs.

Aria sent a gust of wind in Skarath's direction, diverting the roots just before they reached him. She fought tirelessly, not only against the serpent but against the tendrils of the forest that lashed out unpredictably. The battle had become twofold—against the ancient creature and the dark force that had corrupted the very land beneath their feet.

But the corruption overpowered whatever remnants of the creature’s old self remained, and it lunged at him with fangs bared. Skarath, torn between his respect for the serpent and the reality of the fight, did what he must—he unleashed his Miasmatic Venom. A quick, sharp breath, and a cloud of his hallucinogenic venom sprayed into the Myssirith’s face. The serpent reeled back, hissing furiously as its vision blurred, the venom weaving confusion and fear through its already corrupted mind.

At that moment, Morrigan danced through the chaos, weaving between the snapping roots and lashing tail of the beast. "These roots aren't giving up!" he called out, flinging Shadow Stones toward the serpent’s flank. But his movements were stilled for a moment as another set of roots aimed to ensnare him, forcing him to disappear into the shadows and regroup.

Aria leapt into action, her blade glowing as she called upon her power. With a swift motion, she summoned a whirlwind of air, propelling herself toward the beast with precision and force. As she moved, she manipulated the wind around her, forming blades of air that slashed at the Myssirith’s scales. But as she neared the serpent, the roots thickened, creeping toward her with unnatural speed. The wind tore through the corrupted energy clinging to the beast, but its size and the relentless roots made it feel like battling the earth itself.

“Keep it off balance!” Aria shouted, landing with a controlled grace as she unleashed a gust of wind to push the serpent and the encroaching roots back. But it wasn’t enough—the forest seemed to fight them as much as the serpent did.

Leira, fire dancing in her eyes, summoned her own element, her hands igniting in flames. She hurled bolts of fire toward the Myssirith’s body, searing through the roots that tried to trap her feet. The heat intensified with each strike, the flames wrapping around the serpent, causing its scales to hiss and crackle under the intense heat. But the Myssirith retaliated with a shriek, its body glowing with a dark, pulsating energy. In an instant, spikes of earth erupted from the ground, surging toward the arcanists with deadly precision, entangled with the roots that now threatened to overwhelm them.

Morrigan darted between the spikes, his reflexes sharp as he avoided the lethal attacks. “This thing won’t stop!” he shouted, panic clear in his voice. He leapt into the air, turning invisible for a brief moment to evade another strike. From the shadows, he summoned his Shadow Stones, hurling them at the Myssirith’s flanks. The projectiles shattered on impact, momentarily distracting the serpent, but the roots twisted up around its body, strengthening the creature even as they tried to take down the group.

Elyndra stood back, her delicate features focused in concentration. She extended her hands, weaving barriers of light around her team, deflecting the Myssirith’s deadly strikes. Her magic shimmered in the air, the light acting as both shield and guide, illuminating the battlefield as chaos raged around them. But even she had to split her focus, blasting radiant energy to keep the roots at bay, all while holding the barriers.

“We can’t keep this up!” Elyndra’s voice, usually calm, was strained as she pushed herself to maintain the barriers and counter the encroaching roots. “Its power is too strong, something is feeding it!”

Aria glanced at Elyndra, her mind racing. The Myssirith’s attacks weren’t just wild—they were targeted, as if the corruption was conscious, fueling the serpent’s rage and commanding the forest to fight alongside it. “We need to cut off the source of its power,” Aria said, her eyes scanning the battlefield. But before she could say more, the Myssirith lashed out with a renewed fury, its tail glowing with dark energy, striking the ground with a force that shattered the earth beneath them and sent roots surging up in a violent eruption.

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Skarath stumbled, his heart pounding as he faced the serpent again, roots twisting toward him. His halberd gleamed, but the weight of what he had to do still hung heavy in his chest. The Myssirith twisted, its darkened eyes finding him once more, and Skarath could feel the ancient connection between them.

“For Aether,” he whispered, and charged, slicing through the roots that tried to pull him back.

This time, his strike was precise. Skarath drove his halberd deep into the serpent’s side, the blade sinking into the corrupted flesh. Dark energy erupted from the wound, but Skarath held firm, his strength as a warrior and an arcanist propelling him forward. With a roar, he unleashed a second burst of venom, aiming for the open wound. The venom seeped into the Myssirith’s body, its hallucinogenic properties clashing with the corruption as the roots tried to wrap around its body, as if desperate to control the beast itself.

The serpent convulsed, thrashing violently as the corruption inside it battled against Skarath’s venom. For a moment, the Myssirith seemed to still, its body trembling. But then, with a deafening roar, it reared back, its eyes glowing brighter than ever, the roots digging deeper into its form.

“It’s not enough,” Skarath gasped, his body weakening from the fight. The Myssirith’s power was too great, the corruption too deeply embedded. The forest, the serpent—it all seemed bound together in this unknown force that sought to overwhelm them.

Aria, sensing the turmoil in Skarath, kept her focus, her movements sharp and precise. She wasn’t tired—not yet. The winds howled around her as she extended her hands, summoning the very air and water of Aether to her command. A vortex of swirling elements formed around the Myssirith, the barrier strong but never overwhelming, a delicate balance of containment and control. The serpent thrashed, its strength pushing back against her magic, but she didn’t waver. The roots surged toward her, but she blasted them back with a burst of air, keeping them at bay.

"Skarath!" she called out, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Now! Attack together! We end this!”

Skarath’s breath was steady as he charged again, his halberd slicing through the air in perfect synchrony with the elements swirling around them. His strikes came swift, each blow carrying the strength of his people, each swing filled with the deep reverence he held for the Myssirith. The serpent retaliated, lunging with its fangs bared, but Skarath dodged, twisting with a grace born from years of discipline. Around him, the roots still writhed, but Elyndra’s light shielded him, giving him the opening he needed.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Leira’s flames surging forward, wrapping around the Myssirith’s body, searing through the corruption. Elyndra’s light shot out in sharp bursts, creating shields of energy that deflected the serpent’s attacks, while Morrigan’s Shadow Stones struck at its flanks with precise, rapid force, slowing down the roots that tried to reinforce the creature.

The Myssirith’s power was overwhelming, but so was the coordination of the team. The serpent lunged again, and Skarath leapt onto its back, his halberd sinking into the tough, corrupted scales. With each strike, the Myssirith’s movements became more erratic, its thrashing more desperate. The fight was brutal, but Skarath pushed forward, using his instincts, using everything he had, dodging the vines that snapped at him from the side.

With a final, massive leap, he found himself on the serpent’s head. The Myssirith’s eyes glowed with that same dark energy, but for a brief moment, Skarath saw past the corruption. There was something else—something raw, ancient, and deeply familiar. The Myssirith, despite everything, remembered him. His heart clenched. This creature wasn’t just a symbol to his people—it was a protector, a guide. And now it had been reduced to this.

“Great One….” he whispered, his voice cracking as he gripped the halberd tightly with both hands. He raised it high, the blade shimmering faintly with the remnants of his magic, and with one powerful thrust, he drove the blade down between the serpent’s glowing eyes.

The Myssirith let out a final, deafening hiss, its massive body shuddering as the corruption drained from its form. Skarath felt the serpent tremble beneath him, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, it began to collapse. He tumbled from the serpent’s head, landing heavily beside its fallen form, the earth shaking beneath them both. At the same moment, the roots that had plagued them let out a sharp, inhuman screech, as if the defeat of the serpent had severed their lifeline.

The battle was over, but Skarath didn’t feel victorious. As the Myssirith’s body settled, its massive form began to coil, slowly wrapping itself around him in its final moments. Skarath’s breath hitched as he realized what was happening. He stood still, his hand resting gently on the serpent’s scales, feeling the weight of its last act as the creature drew its final breath.

He reached out with a trembling hand, placing it gently on the serpent’s snout. Its breath was weak, barely a whisper, but Skarath could feel it—the sadness, the loss. A lump formed in his throat, and he blinked back the tears that blurred his vision.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, this time barely a breath, his hand still resting gently against the serpent’s snout. His chest tightened, his heart breaking under the weight of it all. The Myssirith’s glowing eyes, now dim, locked with his one final time, and in that brief moment, they shared an unspoken understanding.

The serpent’s great form stilled, and Skarath felt the life slip away from it. Its body remained coiled protectively around him, as if in death, it still held onto the bond they had shared. Skarath’s tears finally fell, silent and heavy, as he knelt there, his hand still on the serpent. His body sagged, defeated, not by the battle but by the emotional weight of what he had just lost.

The others stood back, the battlefield quiet except for the faint crackle of dissipating magic. They watched in silence as Skarath sat there, his head bowed, his hand on the fallen creature that had once been his protector, his kin. The scene was one of profound sorrow, of a bond severed not by choice, but by necessity.

For a long moment, Skarath remained there, his heart aching in a way no victory could ever soothe.