“This was too easy. We’re walking right into his hands.”
Finn’s whispered words hung heavy in the air as the group crouched low behind a crumbling wall, the towering spires of Malakhor’s stronghold looming ominously above them. Shadows danced along the walls, cast by the flickering torches held by the sentries patrolling the grounds.
Alaric glanced at Finn, his expression grim. “It’s supposed to feel easy. That’s the trap.”
Maelis, ever the pragmatist, gave a tight nod. “That doesn’t mean we can’t still turn it to our advantage. If we’re careful.”
Lysandra’s absence weighed heavily on all of them, but it was Finn who seemed to feel it the most. His usual light-hearted banter had been replaced with a quiet, simmering determination. The rescue mission had been his idea—reckless and dangerous, but there hadn’t been time for anything else. Waiting for the perfect plan meant risking Lysandra’s life. And that wasn’t an option.
Alaric peered around the edge of the wall, his sharp eyes tracking the movements of the guards. The stronghold was vast, with dozens of corridors and hidden pathways that made it a labyrinth. They had been moving through it with a combination of stealth and sheer luck, but the sense that they were being watched never left him.
“They’ve taken the bait,” Maelis said under her breath, her eyes scanning the shadowy figures moving across the courtyard. “They think we’re exactly where they want us.”
“They’re probably right,” Finn replied, his voice low but edged with a mix of frustration and fear. “But Lysandra’s in there. We don’t have a choice.”
Alaric nodded. “We don’t. But we move carefully from here. If it feels too easy, assume it’s because Malakhor wants us to think that.”
Maelis placed a hand on Finn’s shoulder, her touch light but firm. “We’ll get her back. Keep your head clear.”
Finn gave a tense nod, his jaw clenched tight as he stared at the stone structure that stood between him and Lysandra. “Let’s go.”
They moved silently through the shadows, keeping to the edges of the stronghold’s outer walls. The air was thick with tension, and every footstep felt like a test. They navigated through a narrow passage, where the towering walls pressed in on either side, leading them deeper into the heart of the fortress.
Every creak, every distant clatter of metal against stone, sent their hearts racing. It was too quiet. Too still.
As they slipped through a side entrance into the darkened interior of the fortress, Finn felt his pulse quicken. The hallways were lit only by the faintest flickers of torchlight, casting long, eerie shadows that made the room feel alive—dangerously alive.
“This place is like a tomb,” Maelis muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Fitting,” Finn replied darkly. “Considering who’s running it.”
Alaric held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. His eyes were trained on a door at the far end of the hallway, a faint glow of light seeping from beneath it. “That’s it.”
“Are you sure?” Finn asked, his heart hammering in his chest. The idea that Lysandra was just on the other side of that door filled him with both hope and dread.
“I’m sure,” Alaric replied, his voice firm. “But we need to be ready. This is where the real danger starts.”
Finn’s grip tightened on his dagger, his knuckles white. “I’ve been ready since they took her.”
The group moved forward, silent and focused, their hearts pounding as they approached the door. The tension was unbearable, and every instinct screamed that something was wrong, but they had come too far to turn back now.
Alaric reached for the door handle, but before he could touch it, the door creaked open on its own, revealing a dimly lit chamber. At the center of the room, Lysandra sat, bound to a stone chair, her head hanging low.
“Lysandra,” Finn breathed, his relief evident as he rushed forward.
“Wait—” Alaric started, but it was too late.
Finn was already halfway across the room when the trap was sprung. The floor beneath them shifted, and with a deafening clang, iron gates slammed down, blocking their exit. Figures emerged from the shadows—dozens of them, cloaked in darkness, their eyes glowing with a malevolent light. They moved silently, surrounding the group with deadly precision.
Lysandra lifted her head slowly, her eyes locking onto Finn’s. There was a mixture of relief and fear in her gaze. “Finn… it’s a trap.”
“I know,” he said, his voice shaking with both anger and fear. “We’ll get you out.”
A low, mocking voice echoed through the chamber, sending a chill down their spines. “Ah, the would-be heroes arrive. How touching.”
Malakhor stepped out from the shadows, his presence overwhelming, as if the very air around him was thick with darkness. He moved with the grace of a predator, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as he surveyed the scene.
“You really thought you could sneak in here and steal her away?” Malakhor’s voice dripped with disdain. “Did you honestly believe I wouldn’t be waiting?”
Alaric’s hand tightened on his sword hilt, his eyes narrowed. “Let her go, Malakhor.”
Malakhor laughed, the sound cold and hollow. “Let her go? No, no. She’s right where I want her. And now, so are you.”
Finn’s chest heaved with rage as he stepped forward. “You won’t win. You may have her now, but we’ll take her back.”
Malakhor’s gaze shifted to Finn, a dark smile playing on his lips. “You have such spirit. Such fire. But you’re already too late. The more you fight, the tighter the noose around you becomes.”
The shadow creatures closed in, their movements fluid and silent as they blocked every possible escape route. The walls of the chamber seemed to pulse with dark energy, trapping them in a cage of shadows.
“Now,” Malakhor continued, his voice a whisper of malice, “you have a choice. You can fight and lose everything, or you can surrender and watch as I reshape the world in darkness.”
Finn’s eyes blazed with fury, but Lysandra’s quiet voice cut through the tension. “Finn… don’t.”
He turned to her, his heart breaking at the sight of her bound and vulnerable. “We’re not leaving without you.”
“I know,” she said softly, her eyes filled with both love and sorrow. “But if you fight now, we’ll all lose.”
Alaric’s voice was grim as he stepped forward. “She’s right. We need to rethink this. Malakhor’s planned this. If we rush in, we’ll all be captured or worse.”
Finn clenched his fists, his anger nearly boiling over. “So what do we do? Just leave her?”
“We’ll come back for her,” Maelis said, her voice steady but filled with determination. “We need to regroup. We need a new plan.”
Malakhor watched them, amused by their struggle. “Ah, the weight of impossible choices. It’s almost beautiful.”
With a roar of frustration, Finn spun around, slamming his dagger into the stone wall beside him. “This isn’t over,” he spat, his voice filled with venom. “We’ll be back.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Malakhor replied smoothly. “You’re all so predictable.”
As the shadow creatures tightened their circle, Alaric made the only call he could. “We retreat... now.”
It was the hardest decision Finn had ever made, but with one final look at Lysandra, he turned and followed the others, slipping into the shadows as they fled the stronghold. The sound of Malakhor’s mocking laughter echoed in their ears as they disappeared into the night...