Anthesis of Sadness

We had spotted a camp in the distance, the scent of hunger gnawing at our stomachs, and their abandoned carcass was nothing but a promise of a meal slipping away with every passing minute. There was no doubt left—we had to attack. Instinct prevailed. Survival, above all.

I had sent Clara, our assassin, ahead as a scout. Her silhouette had melted into the shadows, silent and stealthy, ready to seize the slightest opening when all hell would break loose. She was our secret weapon, invisible, always where no one expected her to be. But I didn't have the luxury of waiting for a chance, so I took the lead.

I scanned the posted guards, the two unlucky ones watching over this makeshift camp, oblivious to the carnage about to unfold. A shiver of focus ran through me as I drew my bowstring taut. The arrow whistled through the air, slicing the night.

I saw the young Mage freeze for a moment, his eyes widening. The arrow pierced his eye, locking his face in an expression of surprise. He collapsed without a sound. No scream, no breath. He was dead before he even touched the ground.

My fingers never left the string. One more second, and I nocked another arrow. I saw another enemy, close by. I took aim, calculated his trajectory, and loosed with almost mechanical speed. But before the shadow of my arrow could reach its target, something unexpected happened.

He moved with an unnatural fluidity. A mere shift of his body, a perfect dodge. I blinked, my hands trembling. Where had he gone? The silhouette had vanished into the air, like mist dissipating at dawn. He was no longer there. A fraction of a second, a gap in time where he had simply disappeared, as if he had never existed.

My heart pounded faster. Doubt seeped in, panic clutched my throat. What kind of creature could accomplish such a feat?

A shiver ran down my spine.

Then, a strangled scream.

— BEHIND!

But it was already too late.