Shadow Slave: Malediction of Sanguine Yearning

Aria sat cross-legged in front of her modest fireplace, the warm glow of the flames dancing across her face as she hummed a soft tune. Her gaze was fixed on the shimmering runes that floated before her, their light illuminating the small room. She had been so caught up in the chaos of battle earlier that she hadn't checked to see if she had gained any memories or echoes.

Nothing.

The runes were empty, not a single memorie or echo. A wave of disappointment washed over her, and she sighed, leaning back slightly. Her eyes drifted to the fire, its crackling flames offering a faint solace as the scenes of the battle replayed in her mind. The Howlers' relentless attacks, the visceral feeling of each kill, and the haunting despair of death—it was all so vivid.

A sudden knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Hey, you in there?" Blake's voice carried through, lighthearted but tinged with curiosity.

"Yeah, come in," Aria muttered, not bothering to raise her voice.

The door swung open with a dramatic flourish, revealing Blake, who strode in like he owned the place. A tankard of beer sloshed in one hand, and his ever-present grin lit up his face.

"Beth! What are you doing here, sulking by yourself?" he teased. "We're throwing a celebration at the tavern—come join us!"

"No thanks," Aria replied curtly, barely sparing him a glance.

Blake feigned offense, clutching his chest with mock drama. "Oh, come on. Why not? Don't tell me it's because your leg's still sore? You're tough—you can handle it."

Aria glanced at her bandaged leg and scoffed, rolling her eyes. "No, it's not that. I'm just not in the mood for alcohol or food right now."

She didn't elaborate, but the truth lingered in her mind, unavoidable. The foul stench of blood and death still clung to her senses, vivid and inescapable. [Keen Smell] had proven more potent than she'd expected. She hadn't noticed much of a difference before, but after the battle, the reek of blood seemed to follow her everywhere. It was nauseating and suffocating.

Blake's grin faltered slightly as he stepped closer, setting his beer down on the small table near the fire. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost concerned.

Aria nodded, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine. Just... tired."

Blake studied her for a moment before giving a half-smile and a shrug. "Alright, suit yourself. But don't let the weight of all this crush you, yeah? We won today—that's worth celebrating, even if just a little."

As Blake turned to leave, Aria's gaze lingered on the fire. She wanted to believe him, to share in the victory. But all she could see in the flames were the shadows of those who hadn't made it back.

The sheer number of lives lost was staggering, a weight pressing heavily on Aria's chest. The battle had been harrowing enough, but it was nothing compared to the horrors she knew were still to come. The nightmare creatures she'd glimpsed at the start of this accursed dream—the ones that had reduced this fortress to ruins in her vision—were far more terrifying than the hundreds of Howlers they had just faced. And worse still, they hadn't even managed to kill all the Howlers. A significant portion of the pack had simply retreated into the icy wasteland.

How was she supposed to defend this fortress against what was coming?

Anger bubbled up alongside her despair. The higher-ups at the second wall had only sent a handful of knights to aid in the fight, leaving the outer wall guards to bear the brunt of the onslaught. It was clear now: the outer wall wasn't a true line of defense—it was a sacrificial barrier. Shields made of flesh and bone, meant to protect the wealthier and better-armed forces deeper within the fortress.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The Nightmare Spell had called the Frozen Howlers Wendralith's thralls. That single phrase chilled her more than the frozen air ever could. It meant these creatures were lesser minions, under the control of something far greater: Wendralith. Only tyrants—or worse—could wield such power, bending armies of beasts to their will.

Aria's mind raced. Hundreds of beasts had nearly overwhelmed them already. How were they supposed to contend with a tyrant? And in the pit of her stomach, she suspected the truth was even darker. When she first arrived in this nightmare, she had seen at least five distinct creatures leave the fortress in her vision.

She needed to get stronger—a lot stronger. The battle had made that painfully clear. But brute strength alone wouldn't be enough. What Aria needed most was information. She knew too little about the people living in the second and third layers of the fortress. The inner defenses were a mystery to her, cloaked in wealth and secrecy. Were there awakened among them? If so, why hadn't they been sent to aid in the battle? Or were they simply hiding, hoarding their power behind layers of stone and privilege?

The truth was, she didn't know. And that ignorance left her vulnerable. If she was going to stand a chance against Wendralith and whatever horrors lay ahead, she needed answers. The second and third layers held the key to understanding the fortress's true strength—or its weaknesses. It was time to start investigating.

But before she could, a war horn blared again, echoing through the cold night air.

Aria's expression hardened, frustration and disbelief flashing across her face. "You have got to be kidding me!" she muttered under her breath.

Grabbing her shield without hesitation, she bolted outside, her boots crunching against the snow as she darted toward the wall. Her heart pounded as she neared the battlements, spotting Tarin already stationed, his bow slung over his shoulder, scanning the horizon.

"Tarin!" she called, her voice sharp with urgency. "What's the situation?"

Tarin turned, his normally calm face lined with tension. "I don't know exactly," he shouted back. "But they look like—millipedes? Giant, writhing things, and there's a whole damn army of them!" He spat on the ground, his frustration clear. "Where are these fuckers even coming from?"

Aria's grip tightened on her shield, her mind racing. Another wave, so soon after the first?

This was a disaster—no, an absolute nightmare. Only about 150 guards remained after the last wave, and almost every one of them was injured in some way, herself included. But the most damning part? Nearly two-thirds of them were drunk.

The taste of bitter frustration churned in Aria's mouth as she stared at the chaos unfolding. How had the scouts missed this? After the grueling first battle, they'd scoured the area for miles. Every report had come back clear. Yet somehow, these creatures were already here, slithering toward the walls.

Her thoughts spiraled, her shield feeling heavier in her hand.

Garran appeared behind Aria, his face slightly flushed, the faintest hint of a stagger in his step. Whether from being drunk or exhaustion, it was hard to tell. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice low but steady.

Before Aria could respond, Tarin's sharp voice cut through the tension. "An army of giant, millipede-looking bastards is headed straight for us!" His tone carried both urgency and frustration, his bow already in hand as his keen eyes tracked the approaching horde.

"Where are the others?" Aria asked, her voice tight with urgency.

Garran's expression darkened, a shadow passing over his face. "Blake and Reese? Out cold—completely useless right now. Lyra's still tending to the wounded."

Aria's jaw tightened, her frustration boiling over. "Those idiots," she muttered.

Turning back toward the horizon, her stomach churning as she caught sight of the creatures. Tarin hadn't been exaggerating. They were massive, segmented beasts, their black, chitinous bodies gleaming like frozen oil under the pale sunlight. Each one undulated forward with a sickening grace, their multitude of legs carving deep furrows into the snow. Atop their heads, long, serrated mandibles clacked rhythmically, and a cold mist seemed to emanate from their bodies, freezing the ground beneath them with every step.

"We can't handle this," she murmured, her breath fogging the frigid air.

"We have to." Garran said grimly, stepping up beside her. Though his face was lined with exhaustion, his eyes burned with determination.

A shout from further down the wall snapped them both to attention. A young guard, barely older than Aria, was frantically pointing. "They're splitting up! Some are going for the gates, and the rest—look! They're digging!"

Aria followed his gaze and felt her heart sink. The creatures weren't simply charging the wall; they were burrowing into the frozen earth.

"They're trying to undermine us," she said, horror creeping into her voice. "If they get beneath the wall—"

"We're finished," Garran finished grimly. He turned to Tarin. "We need you to focus fire on the ones digging. Slow them down as much as possible."

Tarin nodded sharply, already nocking an arrow. "On it. But we're going to need more than me."

"I'll organize the archers," Garran said, his voice carrying authority. "Beth, get to the front line. Rally the sober ones—if we can even find enough."

Aria clenched her jaw, nodding. "Got it."

She bolted down the battlements, shouting orders as she went. The wall guards were a ragged mess, their ranks thinned and disorganized. Some responded quickly, snapping to attention as they grabbed weapons and rushed to their positions. Others were slower, sluggish from drink or despair.

"Move it!" Aria barked, her voice sharp and unyielding. "If you want to live, get to your stations now!"

By the time she reached the gates, a small group of guards had formed up, their expressions a mix of fear and resolve. It wasn't much, but it was all they had.

The first of the creatures reached the base of the wall, slamming their massive bodies against the stone with a force that shook the ground. The sound of cracking rock filled the air, and Aria's pulse quickened.

"Archers, fire!" Garran's command echoed above the chaos, and a volley of arrows rained down, piercing through the millipedes' exoskeletons with sickening crunches. Some fell, their bodies twitching violently before going still. But there were too many, and they kept coming.

Aria raised her shield as the gates shuddered under the impact of another strike. "Hold the line!" she shouted, positioning herself at the front. "Don't let them break through!"

The gate shattered, splinters flying as the first of the monstrous millipedes burst through, its razor-sharp mandibles snapping hungrily. Aria charged forward, her shield colliding with its face in a thunderous crash that reverberated through her arm. The creature reared back, hissing in pain, and Aria capitalized on the moment. With a swift, calculated strike, she drove her fist into the soft joint between its armored segments.

The beast let out a shrill screech, its body collapsing into a writhing, lifeless heap.

[You have slain a dormant beast, Crysalynth's spawn.]

As Aria withdrew her hand, she noticed it was slick with a thick, blue ichor that coated her gauntlet. Her eyes widened as the ichor began to crystallize on her fist, frost creeping up her skin. It was their blood—it froze everything it came into contact with.

A chilling realization hit her: fighting these creatures in close combat would be a grueling, nearly impossible task. Even her shield and fists wouldn't last long against the freezing effects of their blood.

Another millipede lunged at her with lightning speed, its mandibles snapping inches from her face. Aria met it head on, her shield absorbing the brunt of the strike. Sliding back a few paces, she adjusted her stance.

Around her, the guards fought desperately, their swords and spears glinting in the firelight. One man was dragged down, screaming, as a millipede's legs coiled around him, crushing him with horrifying ease. Another guard managed to drive his blade into a creature's head, only to be struck by a second one moments later.

"Don't let them flank us!" Garran roared, joining the fray. His halberd flashed as he cut through a millipede's legs, sending it sprawling.

Aria barely had time to register his presence before the creature lunged at her again. She ducked, narrowly avoiding its snapping mandibles, and retaliated with a swift strike to its underbelly. The soft tissue there ruptured under her blow, spilling icy blue ichor across the ground. Aria instinctively raised her shield to protect herself, just as the blood spattered across its surface. Frost spread instantly, creeping like veins of ice, covering the shield in a crystalline sheen.

[You have slain a dormant beast, Crysalynth's spawn.]

'These damn wretches. Curse them! Curse all of them!'

There was no time for curses, no time for sorrow, no time for joy, no time to even think. From this point onward, Aria's mind went blank. Everything blurred into instinct. It was simple: kill or be killed. She had already known that the essence of combat was about murder, but knowing it and living it were two entirely different things.

As the chaos raged around her, time seemed to stretch and warp. Every movement, every strike, became razor-sharp in clarity. The guards falling beside her, the screams, the terrifying screeches of the monsters—it all faded into the background. Nothing mattered. Nothing but the battle. This was what Sunny had described as clarity.

Slamming and smashing her shield forward the Spell rang out.

[You have slain..]

[You have slain..]

[You have slain..]

[You have received a memory..]