As they huddle beneath the root, Eska can hear nothing but the rhythmic clicks of the argalia moving above.
Then it happens—soft and subtle, but devastating. A small clump of soil dislodges from the web-covered root above them, falling to the ground with a muted thud.
Eska turns towards the sound, the breath catching in her throat as the nearest argalia halts its movements.
The creature's bulbous eyes swivel toward the sound, its body turning unnaturally as it hunches low.
Its mandibles twitch, clicking in an erratic rhythm as it inches closer to their hiding spot. The ground vibrates faintly with each step, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.
Eska's heart pounds violently, her every instinct screaming to run, but Valen tightens his grip on her hand, keeping her steady.
His other hand shifts toward his weapon. The argalia's head dips lower, its grotesque silhouette casting long, jagged shadows against the faint light filtering through the webbing.
The creature stops just inches from their hiding spot, its mandibles quivering as it leans closer.
Valen visibly holds his breath, his eyes locked on the argalia as he calculates their next move. The faint scrape of chitin on webbing fills the air as the argalia begins to probe the ground.
"Be ready," Valen whispers, his voice barely audible.
Eska slowly opens her eyes, her grip on his shirt loosening as she exhales deeply to steady herself. Valen mirrors her, preparing for what's to come.
The tension hangs thick, their every muscle poised for action.
Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind erupts from their hiding spot, sending the argalia tumbling onto its back.
Valen bursts out of the hole with a surge of force, his weapon already in hand. The commotion draws the attention of the entire swarm, their grotesque forms turning sharply toward the racket.
"We're going to need to cut our way through this, Eska!" Valen shouts, as he plants himself between her and the advancing horde.
Eska emerges from the hole behind him, her eyes scanning the overwhelming number of argalias closing in. Valen stands firm, his back to her, his weapon gleaming in the faint light as he prepares to hold the line.
Striding forward, Eska draws her twin daggers with practiced ease. But as she tightens her grip, a voice echoes in her mind. "No. You'll need speed and maneuverability for this."
Her brow furrows as she responds inwardly. "These are the quickest weapons I can use. What else is there?"
"You have the power to create anything, yet you cling to the conventional," the voice replies with a hint of reprimand. "Think beyond limits. Adapt."
Eska hesitates, the weight of the voice's words pressing on her, even as the argalias inch closer.
Valen shifts, readying himself for the coming fight, as Eska steels her resolve and begins to focus.
"Speed and maneuverability," Eska mutters under her breath, her voice barely audible over the eerie clicks of the approaching argalias.
Eska's breath slows as a memory surfaces, unbidden. The werewolf—its unnatural grace, the terrifying speed with which it moved.
She recalls the blur of its form, the way it tore through the forest, closing the distance before she could react.
Her pulse spikes, fear creeping at the edges of her mind—then, just before the memory swallows her whole, her focus shifts. The thing's claws, curved and deadly, made for rending flesh.
She lifts her hands, staring at the daggers she holds. But as her focus sharpens, the blades begin to twist and distort, their forms rippling like liquid before moving around the tips of her fingers.
In their place, elongated, jagged constructs of dark, hardened blood take shape, curling over her hands like predatory talons.
Claws. Like those of the terrifying memory.
She flexes her fingers, and the talons move effortlessly with them, feeling as if they had always been there.
The ease with which they form, the way they feel—solid, right—sends a shiver through her. They don't feel foreign. They don't feel like a weapon she's wielding.
They feel like they belong.
Valen's gaze snaps to her, clearly catching the transformation, as she steps beside him. He doesn't speak, his expression briefly stunned before shifting to one of quiet understanding.
Eska doesn't look at him, her focus locked ahead as she lets out a steadying breath, ready to move.
The argalias screech in unison, their grotesque forms surging forward like a living tide.
The ground trembles under their sheer numbers, their chitinous legs clicking rhythmically as they charge.
Valen steps forward with a wall-like stance. Beside him, Eska flashes ahead, her claws gleaming with a faint, menacing glow as she breaks through the chaos.
Eska sidesteps an argalia's lunge, her claws slashing low and sharp, slicing through the creature's rear legs. It crashes onto the ground with a screech, writhing as she spins, her movements seamless as she flows into her next target.
Each strike is calculated, precise, leaving a trail of hobbling foes in her wake as she ducks and twists through the fray with unmatched speed.
Valen, in contrast, is a force of nature—each swing of his weapon accompanied by a burst of wind that sends creatures sprawling. His strikes are heavy, splitting carapaces and shattering limbs with the sheer power behind them.
As Eska disables an argalia, Valen is already there, his blade cleaving through its exposed torso with an almost brutal efficiency.
Where Eska is elegance, Valen is unrelenting, raw strength, the ground beneath him trembling with each gust of wind that propels his attacks.
The two fight as a perfect counterpoint to one another.
Eska flips over an argalia, landing behind it and severing its legs in one smooth motion. Her surprised expression doesn't last as she moves on to the next, leaving the crumbled creature.
Valen steps in, his blade coming down with a thunderous swing that silences its screech.
The argalias press harder, their numbers overwhelming, but the pair press on without hesitation.
The swarm closes in, as Valen and Eska push toward the edge of the canopy, their movements growing more desperate.
Valen swings his weapon in a wide arc, a burst of wind sending a cluster of argalias tumbling back, but one manages to lunge through the chaos. Its jagged claw catches him across the side, tearing through his torso and leaving a deep gash.
Valen stumbles with a sharp intake of breath, blood seeping through his torn body as he grits his teeth and keeps moving.
Eska notices and she pivots toward him. Her claws flash, slicing through the legs of an argalia that veers too close, buying them precious seconds. She reaches him in a heartbeat, her eyes flicking to the wound with concern.
That split second costs her.
An argalia lunges from behind, its jagged claw slicing across her shoulder with a sharp, searing pain.
Before she can recover, another drops from above, its spindly legs grazing her back as she barely twists out of its full reach. The torn fabric and her leather gear clings to her, but no blood comes out.
Gritting her teeth, Eska stumbles forward, her claws raised defensively as the argalias circle closer.
A gust of wind knocks the argalia group further into the canopy.
No time for words.
The pair pick each other up and they sprint, Valen's wind speeding their stride away to safety.
They run for what feels like forever. The further they get from the canopy, the slower they become, and soon they lose the creatures behind them.
They stumble into the empty encampment. Valen collapses first, dropping heavily onto the grass near the firepit, his breathing ragged and uneven.
Eska sinks down beside him, her claws dissolving as she presses a trembling hand to her shoulder.
The moment they vanish, something feels off. Her hands feel too light, as if something essential has been taken from her.
Her fingers twitch against her shoulder, her breathing shallow. Why does it feel like something's missing?
The thought unsettles her.
The relief their presence had given her—the way they had felt right—lingers in her mind, a quiet, creeping fear curling in her gut.
The thought is briefly forgotten as her eyes lock onto Valen's side, where the deep gash seeps blood, staining his torn clothing. "Valen…" she breathes, her voice shaking as panic flashes across her face.
She leans closer, her hands hovering over him, unsure where to begin as fear and urgency war within her.
"Calm yourself," the voice inside her urges, "there should be a medical kit. The hunters wouldn't have taken it."
Eska's eyes widen as the words register.
"Medical kit," she mutters under her breath, scrambling to her feet and darting toward the tents.
Her hands fumble as she rifles through the supplies, relief washing over her when she finds the familiar box. Clutching it tightly, she rushes back to Valen, dropping to her knees beside him.
She opens the kit, pulling out what she needs with a focused urgency. Her hands remain steady, despite the panic thrumming in her chest.
Eska takes a steadying breath. "I need to take your top off so I can take care of this," She whispers softly.
Valen shifts, trying to help as Eska works quickly, pulling aside whatever she can to clear the way.
A thin thread of her own blood rises to the surface, glinting faintly in the firelight, while smaller strands seep into the torn flesh, seeking the damage inside.
Reaching into the first aid kit, she grabs the needle and thread, attaching them deftly to the blood strands to guide their work.
The crimson thread twists and weaves under her control, stitching the torn edges of Valen's wound with precision. Sweat forms on her brow as the strain of sustaining the bloodcraft begins to take its toll, but she doesn't stop.
Slowly but surely, the gash closes.
Her own wounds begin to seep as the strain mounts. She presses her palm over Valen's wound.
"This will stop the bleeding," she mutters.
Valen stirs slightly, his voice weak. "I feel…pulling inside."
"I'm holding it closed from the inside too," she explains. "Trying to stop the internal bleeding. I've done this before, so don't worry."
His gaze flickers to her shoulder, where blood runs freely from her own injuries. "Your wounds are bleeding too," he says hoarsely.
"They're not bad," she snaps. "Now shut up. It's hard enough to focus on all this at once."
She remains by his side, kneeling close as she leans forward, her head coming to rest gently against his chest.