Dusk faded into night over the Ironspine Cliffs, but the sanctuary never slept. Torches flickered, casting long shadows over the stone nests, as warriors from the four bloodlines gathered—fifty in total, handpicked for their skill and courage. Elven archers, their bows strung with magic-infused arrows; phoenixes, their feathers glowing gold, ready to unleash fire; griffin warriors, their claws sharpened, their armor polished; and a handful of human mages, allies from Valoria who'd sworn loyalty to Kael after he'd saved the realm.
Kael stood at the front, his merged dragon-phoenix fire glowing faintly in his palms. Leah stood beside him, her silver eyes scanning the crowd. Lira, in her phoenix form, perched on a nearby rock, her wings spread wide. Gareth, in his humanoid form, stood beside the griffin warriors, his golden eyes sharp. Merlin walked among the group, muttering incantations, placing glowing runes on their armor to shield them from dark magic.
"Listen up!" Kael shouted, his voice cutting through the noise. "Tomorrow, we march into the Shadowlands. Our mission is simple: stop the Shadow Coven from retrieving the Shadowstone. We don't know how many of them there are, or how powerful their magic is. But we have each other. We have the strength of the four bloodlines. And we have the light."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the warriors. "Two years ago, we united to defeat Julian and the Soul-Eating Lord. Today, we unite again. To protect the realm. To protect the peace we fought so hard to build. Are you ready?"
The warriors roared in response—elves shouting, phoenixes crying, griffins roaring. The sound echoed through the cliffs, a declaration of resolve.
"Good," Kael said. "Train through the night. Rest when you can. We leave at dawn."
The warriors dispersed, pairing off to train. Elven archers practiced firing at moving targets, their arrows hitting dead-center. Phoenixes and griffins practiced aerial maneuvers, diving and soaring in perfect sync. Human mages practiced casting defensive spells, their hands glowing with light magic.
Kael joined Lira in a small clearing, where dummy soldiers made of straw stood. "Let's test your focus," Lira said, her hands glowing with phoenix fire. "The Shadowlands' magic will try to distract you. Make you see things that aren't there. You need to stay sharp."
She launched a small fireball at Kael. He reacted, summoning a gold-orange shield. The fireball hit it and bounced off, exploding harmlessly. He countered with a precise flame slash, slicing a dummy in half.
"Better," Lira said. "But faster. The cultists won't give you time to think."
They trained for hours, Kael honing his merged fire—practicing defensive shields, offensive strikes, and healing spells. By midnight, his muscles were sore, his magic drained, but he felt sharp—sharper than he had in months.
Leah joined them, carrying a water skin. "Take a break," she said, handing it to Kael. "You'll need your strength tomorrow."
Kael drank, then handed the water skin to Lira. "Thanks. How's the archery training going?"
"Perfect," Leah said. "The elves are ready. They can hit a target from a hundred yards, even in the mist."
Gareth landed nearby, transforming into his humanoid form. "Griffins are ready too. We've mapped the path through the Shadowlands—avoiding the worst of the corrupted monsters."
Merlin approached, his staff in hand. "I've prepared potions to counter dark magic. And I've reinforced the runes on your armor. You'll be protected, but not invulnerable. The Shadow Coven's magic is old—older than anything we've faced."
Kael nodded. "We'll be careful. We'll stick together."
They rested for a few hours, then gathered again as dawn broke. The sky was gray, the air cool, as they mounted their griffins and set off. The Ironspine Cliffs faded behind them, giving way to the twisted trees of the Shadowlands.
The Shadowlands were even darker than Kael remembered. The trees grew black and gnarled, their branches clawing at the sky. A thick mist rolled in, obscuring their vision. Whispers echoed through the trees—sounds of pain, of fear, of voices that sounded like loved ones.
"Stay alert," Leah shouted over the wind. "The mist is thick. They could be anywhere."
Kael nodded, summoning a small flame in his palm to cut through the mist. The merged fire burned bright, pushing back the darkness slightly.
Suddenly, a scream echoed from the front of the group. A phoenix fell from the sky, its feathers blackening as dark magic wrapped around it.
"Ambush!" Gareth shouted.
Cultists emerged from the mist—their robes black, their faces hidden behind masks, their hands glowing with dark magic. They launched bolts of darkness at the warriors, hitting elves and griffins alike.
"Fight back!" Kael shouted, launching a wave of merged fire at the cultists. The flames burned through their robes, purging the darkness from their bodies.
Leah fired arrows, hitting cultists between the eyes. Lira, in her phoenix form, soared overhead, unleashing fireballs. Gareth transformed into his griffin form, clawing at the cultists. Merlin raised his staff, casting a shield over the warriors, blocking the dark magic.
Kael charged forward, his flame sword burning bright. He sliced through a cultist's mask, revealing a human face—pale, empty, its eyes glowing red with darkness.
"Who are you?" Kael shouted. "What do you want with the Shadowstone?"
The cultist laughed, a hollow sound. "The Ancient One will rise. The Shadowstone will free him. And you—you will burn."
He launched a bolt of darkness at Kael. Kael raised his shield, blocking the attack, then stabbed the cultist in the chest. The cultist fell to the ground, dissolving into black smoke.
"More coming!" Lira shouted, firing a fireball at a group of cultists emerging from the trees.
The battle raged on. Cultists swarmed, their dark magic tearing through the warriors' defenses. Elves fell, their arrows still in their quivers. Griffins cried out, their feathers blackening.
Kael fought on, his merged fire burning brighter. He sliced through cultists, purging the darkness, but they kept coming—endless, relentless.
"We need to retreat!" Merlin shouted, his shield flickering. "We're outnumbered!"
Kael hesitated. He didn't want to retreat—didn't want to leave the fallen warriors behind. But Merlin was right. They were outnumbered, and the cultists' magic was too strong.
"Fall back!" Kael shouted. "Retreat to the clearing ahead!"
The warriors nodded, fighting their way back. Kael and Lira covered the rear, launching fire at the cultists to slow them down. Leah fired arrows, picking off cultists who got too close. Gareth carried injured warriors on his back, flying toward the clearing.
They reached the clearing—a small, open space surrounded by rocks—and set up defenses. Elves took cover behind rocks, arrows drawn. Phoenixes perched on the rocks, ready to fire. Griffins stood guard, their claws bared. Merlin cast a stronger shield, wrapping it around the clearing.
The cultists stopped at the edge of the clearing, their red eyes glowing in the mist. "You can't hide forever," their leader shouted, his voice deep and hollow. "The Ancient One will find you. The Shadowstone will be ours."
He raised his hand, and the cultists launched a wave of dark magic at the shield. The shield flickered, cracks spreading across it.
"Hold on!" Merlin shouted, pouring more magic into the shield.
Kael stepped forward, his flame sword burning bright. "We won't let you win. The realm will not fall."
The cultist leader laughed. "We'll see. We'll meet again—at the Forgotten Crypts. And this time, you won't escape."
He raised his hand, and the cultists turned and vanished into the mist.
The clearing fell silent, except for the sound of warriors breathing hard and healers tending to the injured. Kael let out a breath, dismissing his sword. The merged fire in his veins burned dim, drained from the fight.
"How many did we lose?" he asked, his voice quiet.
Leah shook her head, tears in her eyes. "Three elves. Two griffins. One human mage."
Kael closed his eyes, grief washing over him. He'd promised to protect them. To keep them safe.
"We'll avenge them," Lira said, her voice firm. "We'll stop the Shadow Coven. For the fallen."
Gareth nodded. "The cultists are faster than we thought. They'll reach the Forgotten Crypts in two days now."
Merlin sighed, leaning on his staff. "We need to rest. Heal the injured. Replenish our magic. We'll leave at dusk. We have to catch up."
Kael nodded. He looked at the fallen warriors, their bodies covered in cloaks. The fire in his veins flared, a mix of grief and anger.
The Shadow Coven would pay.
The Ancient One would never rise.
And the realm would remain free.
He turned to the warriors, his voice strong. "Rest. Heal. We leave at dusk. And when we find the Shadow Coven—we finish this."
The warriors nodded, their resolve renewed.
The fight was far from over.
But they were the four bloodlines.
They were the realm's guardians.