Val jerked awake. The predawn light barely penetrated the shuttered windows of the ranger shack, casting long shadows across the sleeping forms of his companions. His heart hammered against his chest, but the shelter remained quiet save for the soft snores of the other rangers.


    Just the dreams again.


    He released his grip on the sword and sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His watch rotation during the night had been uneventful. Nothing but the whisper of wind through pine needles and the occasional hoot, cry and scuffle. His body protested the early hour, muscles stiff from yesterday''s march and the hard wooden platform that passed for a bed.


    Val swung his legs over the edge of the sleeping platform and stretched, feeling the satisfying pop of his spine. The air inside the shack was cold but not unbearable, someone had kept the small stove stoked through the night. On the other platforms, rangers slept in various states of readiness, most still partially clothed with weapons within arm''s reach. The habits of survival ran deep.


    Captain Jorin was already awake, studying a map spread across a small table by the stove''s faint light. The veteran ranger''s weathered face revealed nothing of his thoughts, but the intensity of his focus spoke volumes.


    "Trouble?" Val asked quietly, moving to join him.


    Jorin glanced up, the lines around his eyes deepening. "Maybe. The tracks we followed yesterday all lead toward the Dead Peak Pass. If something''s driving ghouls over the border, that''s the most likely crossing point."


    Val examined the map, tracing the route with a calloused finger. Dead Peak Pass cut through the mountains like a jagged wound, the narrowest passage between Yelden Valley and the eastern Deadlands. The terrain was treacherous; steep cliffs, unstable slopes, and countless places for an ambush. It was a natural bottleneck, which made it both strategically important and incredibly dangerous.


    "You''re thinking of checking the pass itself," Val said. It wasn''t a question.


    Jorin nodded. "We need to know what we''re dealing with. If it''s just a few stray ghouls, we can handle that ourselves. If it''s something worse..."


    The captain rolled up the map with practiced hands. "Wake the others. We move out after a quick meal."


    By the time the sun crested the eastern mountains, the rangers of Ranger Company Two had gathered outside the shack. The morning air was crisp and clear, carrying the scent of pine and the first hint of frost. Their breath formed small clouds that dissipated quickly in the strengthening light.


    Jorin outlined their plan. "We''re heading to Dead Peak Pass to investigate the source of the undead incursion. The terrain is difficult and potentially hostile, so we travel light. Leave all non-essential gear here at the shack."


    He pointed toward the distant mountains, where a narrow gap was barely visible between two towering peaks. "The pass is approximately four miles from here, mostly uphill. We''ll need to move carefully, there are plenty of places for ambushes along the route. Our objective is to survey the pass and, if possible, determine what''s driving the undead into the valley. We are not engaging unless absolutely necessary. Questions?"


    Rhea went first. "What''s our plan if we encounter more ghouls?"


    "Depends on the numbers," Jorin replied. "If we get separated, each squad should make their way back independently. The shack is our rally point."


    There were no further questions. The rangers dispersed to prepare their gear. Val returned to the shelter to sort through his equipment. His ranger pack was a product of practical design, crafted from sturdy leather and waxed canvas, with multiple pockets and straps for organizing essential supplies. He emptied it completely on his sleeping platform, taking inventory of what he would need.


    The essentials went back into the pack first: a firestarter kit with flint and steel, wrapped in oiled cloth to keep it dry; a small pouch of dried jerky, half a loaf of bread, already slightly stale but still edible; and two water canteens, both three-quarters full. He added his survival tools: a brass whistle for emergency signals, a sharp skinning knife in a leather sheath, and a small cloth packet containing salt, dried herbs, and other seasonings that could make even the most unappetizing food palatable.


    Val hesitated over his bulky winter overcoat. The morning was cold, but exertion would warm him quickly on the uphill climb. Still, the pass would be significantly colder, and weather in the mountains could change rapidly. Better to have it and not need it. He rolled the heavy garment tightly and placed it in the bottom of his pack, which now bulged noticeably.


    With his pack prepared, Val turned his attention to his weapons. His sword, a well-balanced blade of medium length designed for one-handed use, went into the scabbard at his left hip. He checked his bow next, running his fingers along the string to ensure it hadn''t taken on moisture during the night, then counted the arrows in his quiver, twenty as usual. Val was proficient with the bow, as all rangers were, but hardly an expert on the level of Lysa.


    His daggers came next. Two at his sides, tucked into his belt, and a third strapped to his right thigh. The blade against his thigh had saved his life more than once when larger weapons were knocked away or impractical in close quarters.


    Satisfied with his own preparations, Val turned his attention to Elara and Aric. As their squad leader, it was his responsibility to ensure they were properly equipped for the mission.


    Elara was already finished, her pack neatly organized and secured. She''d braided her dark hair tightly against her scalp, eliminating any risk of it being grabbed in combat. She met Val''s questioning glance with a nod.


    Aric was still adjusting his equipment, his movements betraying a hint of nervous energy. The young ranger had clearly paid attention during his training. His pack was properly balanced, his weapons accessible, and his water and food supplies adequate. Val noted with approval that Aric had thought to include a small roll of bandages in an outside pocket where they could be quickly accessed.


    "Looking good," Val said quietly. "Remember to keep checking your bowstring if we hit damp patches. And keep your quiver covered if it starts to snow."


    Aric nodded, appreciating the advice rather than resenting it. "Do you think we''ll encounter more than ghouls up there?"


    Val considered the question carefully before answering. "It''s possible. Stay alert, follow orders, and we''ll be fine."


    The young ranger seemed to take comfort in the straightforward instructions. He secured the last strap on his pack and straightened, ready to move out.


    They left the relative security of the ranger shack behind, heading deeper into the mountain terrain. The path chosen, little more than a game trail in places, wound its way through increasingly sparse forest. It would take them parallel of the main pass, allowing them to scout without being easily seen.


    As they climbed higher, the trees grew stunted and twisted, battered by constant wind and winter storms. The ascent quickly became challenging. In some sections, the trail was nearly vertical, requiring them to find handholds in the rocky terrain. Val kept a watchful eye on Aric, but the young ranger handled the difficult climb competently, showing no signs of struggle beyond the expected exertion.


    As they approached a particularly steep section, Val made a calculated decision. He channeled a thin stream of aether from his core, directing it through his legs to boost his muscles'' endurance and aid recovery. The warm tingle of magical energy spread through his thighs and calves, temporarily banishing the burning fatigue that had begun to set in.


    It was a technique he used sparingly. Unlike some with larger aether reserves, Val had to be mindful of his usage, keeping a mental eye on his core levels. He''d learned through painful experience to never let his reserves drop below half, keeping the rest in reserve for combat.


    The channeled energy made the next section of the climb significantly easier. Val''s muscles responded with renewed strength, allowing him to navigate the difficult terrain without slowing the group''s pace. He carefully monitored the drain on his core, cutting off the flow of aether once they reached a more manageable incline.


    By mid-morning, they had gained considerable elevation. The forest had given way entirely to rocky terrain with only the occasional stubborn mountain pine clinging to crevices in the stone. The air had grown noticeably thinner and colder, carrying a metallic taste that hinted at snow.


    When they reached the false summit, a wide ledge offering a clear view of the true pass still some distance ahead, Jorin called for a brief rest. The rangers gratefully sank to the ground or leaned against boulders, conserving energy while maintaining vigilance. Water canteens were passed around, each ranger taking careful sips rather than indulging in long drinks that might lead to cramps during the continuing climb.


    Val found himself next to Kaelen, who was staring toward the distant pass with an uncharacteristically somber expression.


    "Brings back memories," the older ranger said quietly, his voice barely audible above the constant mountain wind.


    Val followed his gaze, understanding immediately what Kaelen meant. They had both crossed into the Deadlands before, several years ago. It had been further south, tracking a revenant that had been attacking villages in the South Valley. The memory was not a pleasant one.


    "Different circumstances," Val replied, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears.


    Kaelen gave a grunt that might have been agreement or skepticism. "We had thirty rangers and a full company of the army that time. Still lost seven good people before we put that thing down."


    The revenant had once been a wealthy merchant, murdered by bandits and left unburied in a shallow roadside grave. Its rage and desire for vengeance had been powerful enough to animate its corpse, granting it unnatural strength and a single-minded determination to destroy any living being it encountered. The battle had been brutal, the deaths ugly and violent.


    "This isn''t the same," Val insisted, though he understood Kaelen''s concern. "We''re just scouting. If we find anything beyond our capability, we withdraw and report."


    "That was the plan last time too."


    Val had no response to that. They both knew how quickly plans could unravel when facing the undead. The revenant had surprised them, attacking their camp at night rather than waiting in its lair as they''d expected. The ensuing chaos had forced them to fight rather than retreat.


    After a few moments of silence, Kaelen shook his head slightly, as if dispelling unwelcome thoughts. "Ignore me. Just an old man''s worries. Jorin''s got a good head on his shoulders, and this company knows what it''s doing."


    Before Val could respond, Jorin signaled for them to resume their march. The brief rest had done little to ease the fatigue in his muscles, but they all knew the importance of reaching the pass and returning to the shack before nightfall. No one wanted to be caught in the open after dark this close to the border.


    The final approach to Dead Peak Pass proved even more challenging than the initial climb. The trail narrowed to barely a foot wide in places, with a sheer drop on one side and a steep rock face on the other. They moved carefully, testing each foothold before committing their weight, acutely aware that a single misstep could mean a fatal fall.


    Lysa, leading the column, froze suddenly, raising a closed fist to signal a halt. The rangers immediately stopped, hands moving to weapons as they scanned for threats. After a tense moment, Lysa relaxed slightly and beckoned Jorin forward.


    Val, positioned third in the column, couldn''t hear their whispered conversation, but he saw Jorin''s expression darken. The captain gestured for the company to move up to a wider section of the trail where they could gather more securely.


    "Tracks," Jorin announced once they had assembled. "Lots of them, crossing at the highest point of the pass. Lysa estimates at least fifteen sets."


    The rangers exchanged grim looks. Fifteen undead represented a significant threat, far more coordinated than the random ghouls they occasionally encountered near the border.


    "How fresh?" Kaelen asked, voicing the question on everyone''s mind.


    "Not fresh," Lysa replied. "At least three days old, possibly four. There was a light snowfall two nights ago that partially filled the prints."


    "Direction?" Val asked.


    "Both ways," Jorin said, his brow furrowed. "Some heading into the valley, others returning to the Deadlands."


    That was unusual. Undead typically didn''t return to the Deadlands once they had entered the valley. Something was coordinating their movements, sending them out and calling them back.


    "We continue to the pass," Jorin decided after a moment''s consideration. "Observe only. We need to see what''s on the other side."


    They resumed their careful ascent, even more alert than before. Val kept his right hand near his sword hilt, ready to draw at the first sign of danger. The knowledge that a significant number of undead had recently used this same trail put every ranger on edge.


    When they finally reached the highest point of Dead Peak Pass, the view that greeted them was both breathtaking and chilling. To the west lay Yelden Valley, a verdant expanse of forests and fields bisected by silver rivers. To the east stretched the Deadlands, a blighted landscape of grey and brown, where twisted, leafless trees stood like accusing fingers pointing toward the sky. The contrast was stark, a vivid reminder of what was at stake.


    The tracks Lysa had spotted were clearly visible in the thin layer of snow and dust that covered the pass. Val studied them carefully, noting the shambling gait characteristic of ghouls and the heavier, more deliberate prints of something larger. Not a revenant—the stride was too regular for that—but possibly a wight or bone knight. Either represented a significant threat, capable of directing lesser undead and possessing enough intelligence to plan and coordinate.


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    Jorin allowed them only a brief examination of the pass before ordering a withdrawal. The afternoon was advancing, and they needed to return to the shack before darkness fell. They had confirmed the route the undead were using to enter the valley, which was valuable intelligence, but they still didn''t know what was driving them or coordinating their movements.


    The descent was, in many ways, more treacherous than the climb. Tired muscles and gravity combined to make each step potentially hazardous. They moved slowly, placing each foot with deliberate care. Val resisted the urge to channel more aether to ease the strain on his legs, knowing he might need those reserves later if they encountered trouble.


    The sun was low in the western sky by the time they reached the relative safety of the forest line. Shadows stretched long across the landscape, and the temperature had begun to drop rapidly. Jorin maintained a brisk pace despite their fatigue, determined to reach the shack before full dark.


    They arrived at the ranger shelter as the last light faded from the sky. The small building looked almost welcoming after their arduous day, its solid walls offering protection from both the elements and potential enemies. Kaelen and Rhea quickly checked the perimeter to ensure nothing had approached during their absence, while the rest of the company gratefully shed their packs and prepared for evening meal and rest.


    Dinner was a simple affair of hard bread, dried meat, and a thin soup Jarek managed to prepare from their limited supplies. They ate in relative silence, too tired for much conversation. The implications of what they had discovered weighed heavily on all of them.


    As they finished their meal, Jorin outlined the plan for the following day. "We return to the pass at first light, this time with all our gear. The tracks indicate significant movement, but we still don''t know the source. There''s a small village about six miles beyond the pass, or what''s left of it. If something is organizing the undead, that''s a likely location."


    "Blackthorne," Kaelen said quietly, pointing to a spot on the map. "That was its name, before the Deadlands claimed it."


    "We''ll approach the village ruins cautiously," Jorin continued. "Observe from a distance first. If there''s evidence of significant undead activity beyond what we can handle, we withdraw immediately and return to Oakspire for reinforcements."


    The rangers nodded in understanding. Each knew their role and the importance of following orders without question in potentially hostile territory.


    "Get some rest," Jorin concluded. "It''ll be a long day tomorrow."


    The company organized the night''s watch rotation. Val drew the second watch, which would begin halfway through the night. He took the opportunity to carefully check his weapons once more before settling onto his sleeping platform, sword within easy reach. Despite his exhaustion, sleep came slowly, his mind reviewing the day''s discoveries and anticipating the challenges that awaited them beyond the pass.


    When Lian gently shook him awake for his watch, the shack was dark save for a single small candle burning on the central table. Val rose quietly, careful not to disturb the other sleeping rangers, and pulled on his boots and heavy coat. The night air outside was bitterly cold, the stars sharp and brilliant in the clear mountain sky.


    Val took his position on a raised outcropping of rock that offered a good view of the approaches from the east. Rhea and Mira had the other watch positions, covering the north and south approaches respectively.


    The hours of his watch passed slowly, marked only by the gradual movement of stars across the sky and the occasional soft call of a night bird. Val maintained his focus despite the cold that gradually seeped through his layers of clothing, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement, listening for sounds that didn''t belong to the natural rhythm of the forest.


    When his watch ended, he quietly woke Kaelen for the final shift before dawn. The older ranger nodded sleepily but was fully alert by the time Val had finished his brief report: "All quiet. No movement."


    Val returned to his sleeping platform, his body grateful for the relative warmth of the shack and the prospect of a few more hours of rest. This time, sleep claimed him quickly, a dreamless oblivion that lasted until Jorin''s voice roused the company at first light.


    The rangers prepared for departure quickly, checking weapons and gear by the gray predawn light. Unlike the previous day, they packed all their equipment, knowing they might not return to the shack before heading back to Oakspire. The mood was focused but tense, each ranger aware of the potential dangers that awaited them beyond the pass.


    They set out as the eastern sky began to lighten, retracing their path from the previous day. The climb was no less challenging, but familiarity with the route allowed them to maintain a steady pace. Val hid his smile at his companions misery, being one of the only three of them that could manipulate aether alongside Jorin and Lysa.


    By mid-morning, they had reached Dead Peak Pass once more. The view of the Deadlands seemed even more forbidding in the clear morning light, the blighted landscape stretching to the horizon. Jorin paused at the highest point of the pass, studying the terrain ahead through a small spyglass.


    "The village ruins are visible from here," he said after a moment, passing the spyglass to Lysa. "No obvious signs of activity, but the approach is exposed. We''ll need to be careful."


    As they prepared to descend the eastern slope into the Deadlands, Aric moved closer to Val, his expression a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.


    "Can I ask you something?"


    Val nodded, keeping his voice low. "Go ahead."


    "Why don''t more undead leave the Deadlands and raid the valley? If they can cross at places like this, what stops them from overwhelming us?"


    It was a good question, one that revealed Aric''s thoughtful approach to their situation. Val considered his response carefully, knowing the answer was complex and steeped in both fact and generations of folklore.


    "It''s not just physical barriers that keep them contained," he began. "There''s something about the valley itself that repels them, the same way the Deadlands feel wrong to us. They sense it as soon as they cross the border. A pressure, a wrongness that grows stronger the deeper they penetrate into our territory."


    Aric looked skeptical. "But what causes that? Is it magic?"


    "In a way," Val said. "The elders say it''s the Oakspire''s influence. The great tree creates a shield of sorts, not a physical barrier but a spiritual one. The undead can cross it, but they''re weakened when they do, and the effect grows stronger the longer they remain in the valley."


    He paused, watching the young ranger''s face. "That''s why the three ghouls we encountered were so deep in the forest. They were recently turned. They hadn''t been undead long enough to feel the full effect."


    "And the ones we''re tracking now?"


    "They''re being driven, or led, by something powerful enough to overcome the aversion, at least temporarily. But even they can''t stay indefinitely. That''s why some of the tracks were heading back to the Deadlands."


    Val didn''t mention the darker implications: that if the undead were coming and going freely, it suggested either a significant increase in their power or a weakening of the Oakspire''s protective influence. Neither possibility was comforting.


    "The legends say the Oakspire once created a visible golden shield around the entire valley," he continued, sharing knowledge passed down through generations of story and prayer. "That was long ago, before the Deadlands existed, in the times of the Atilean Empire. Now its power is more subtle, but still effective."


    Aric absorbed this information thoughtfully. "So the undead we might encounter today..."


    "Will be faster and stronger than those in the valley," Val confirmed. "They''re in their territory, not weakened by the Oakspire''s influence. We need to be even more cautious."


    The young ranger nodded, his hands unconsciously moving to check his sword. "Thanks."


    "Knowledge is as important as steel when facing any beast," Val said, repeating one of High Captain Unta''s favorite sayings. "Remember your training, follow orders, and we''ll get through this."


    Jorin signaled for them to resume their march, ending the conversation. They began the descent into the Deadlands, moving in a tight formation with scouts positioned ahead and to the flanks. The eastern slope was less steep than the western side, but the footing was equally as treacherous. Loose shale and gravel shifted unpredictably under their boots.


    As they descended, the landscape changed subtly but unmistakably. The air grew heavier, carrying a faint acrid scent. The sparse mountain vegetation gave way to twisted, stunted growths that seemed to recoil from their touch. Even the quality of light seemed different, the sun''s warmth somehow diminished despite the clear sky.


    Val felt the familiar pressure behind his eyes that always accompanied entry into the Deadlands, a dull pain that never quite faded while he remained in this blighted realm. He saw similar discomfort reflected in the faces of his companions, particularly Aric, who was experiencing it for the first time. The young ranger''s complexion had paled slightly, but he maintained his position and pace, adapting to the unsettling sensation with commendable discipline.


    They reached the base of the slope by midday, the ruined village of Blackthorne now clearly visible in the distance. From their vantage point, it appeared abandoned, a cluster of partially collapsed stone buildings surrounding what had once been a market square. No movement was visible, no smoke rose from the ruins, and no sound carried across the dead landscape.


    Jorin called a brief halt to observe the village from a distance. The rangers spread out along a low ridge, using natural cover to conceal their presence while they studied the ruins through spyglasses and with naked eye.


    After nearly an hour of observation revealed no signs of activity, Jorin made his decision. "We approach to the outskirts only. Look for tracks or other evidence of recent passage. We do not enter the ruins unless absolutely necessary."


    The company moved forward cautiously, advancing in a scattered formation that would prevent them from being surprised all at once. Val kept Elara and Aric close, guiding them toward a position that would allow observation of the village''s southern approach.


    As they neared the ruined village, the sense of wrongness intensified. The silence was absolute, not even the whisper of wind disturbing the desolate scene. Buildings that had once housed families stood empty, their doors hanging from broken hinges, their windows like empty eye sockets in the faces of the dead.


    They reached the outskirts of the village and began their search for signs of undead activity. Val led his squad along what had once been the southern road into Blackthorne, examining the hard-packed earth for tracks or other evidence of passage.


    "Nothing recent," Elara reported after a careful examination of the area. "Some older tracks, similar to those we found at the pass, but nothing in the past day or two."


    Similar reports came in from the other squads. Despite the clear evidence that undead had been using the pass to enter the valley, there were no fresh signs of movement from the direction of the village. Whatever had been coordinating the ghouls, it wasn''t currently using Blackthorne as a base.


    Jorin, visibly troubled by the lack of findings, gathered the squad leaders for a brief conference.


    "This doesn''t add up," he said quietly, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. "The tracks at the pass show regular movement, but there''s nothing recent leading to or from the village. Where are they coming from?"


    "Could be further east," Kaelen suggested. "Blackwind Citadel is only about fifteen miles from here."


    The mention of the Shadowbinder''s stronghold sent a chill through the group. If the undead lord himself was involved, the situation was far more serious than they had anticipated.


    "We don''t have enough information," Jorin decided after a moment''s consideration. "And we''re not equipped for a deeper incursion. We return to the pass and back to Oakspire to report what we''ve found."


    No one argued with the decision. They had already ventured further into the Deadlands than was typical for a scouting mission, and the absence of clear answers was unsettling rather than reassuring. Better to return with incomplete information than not return at all.


    They began their withdrawal, maintaining the same cautious formation but moving at a slightly quicker pace. The sun had passed its zenith, and none of them wanted to be caught in the Deadlands after dark. They would need to reach at least the western side of the pass before making camp, preferably returning all the way to the ranger shack if possible.


    The ascent to the pass was grueling after their already long day of travel. Val channeled aether more frequently than he would have liked, the constant wrongness of the Deadlands draining his natural stamina more quickly than normal terrain. He noticed Aric struggling slightly with the climb and dropped back to offer quiet encouragement.


    "Nearly there," he said, pointing to where the pass cut through the mountain ridge ahead. "Once we''re over the top, we''re back in the valley."


    Aric nodded gratefully, too winded for a verbal response. The young ranger had performed admirably throughout the mission, but the combined physical exertion and psychological strain of his first venture into the Deadlands was taking its toll.


    They were halfway up the slope to the pass when disaster struck. The first sign of trouble was a shifting of loose rocks higher up the incline, too deliberate to be natural. Val''s hand moved to his sword hilt even before Lysa''s warning cry split the air.


    "Ambush! From the rocks!"


    The words had barely registered when the first ghoul lunged from behind a large boulder, its desiccated body moving with unnatural speed. More followed, at least a dozen, emerging from hiding places among the rocks where they had lain in wait for the returning rangers.


    Val drew his sword in a smooth motion, his other hand pulling Aric behind him as a ghoul charged directly toward them. The once human, its flesh now gray and mottled, its eyes glazed with the milky film of death. It moved with the jerky, uncoordinated gait common to ghouls.


    Val met its charge with a precise thrust to the throat, severing the creature''s spine and dropping it instantly. A second ghoul leaped over its fallen companion, fingers curved into claws as it reached for Val''s face. He sidestepped and brought his sword down in a diagonal slash that nearly severed the undead''s arm. The creature howled, a sound no living throat could produce, and lunged again. Val''s backhand stroke took its head clean off, the body collapsing in a heap of uncoordinated limbs.


    All around him, the company had erupted into desperate combat. Rangers fought in tight groups of two or three, protecting each other''s flanks as they faced the unexpected onslaught. Val caught glimpses of Jorin and Kaelen fighting back-to-back, the captain''s sword flashing in the afternoon sun while Kaelen''s axe described deadly arcs through the air.


    A third ghoul rushed at Val, moving faster than the others. He recognized the danger too late—this one was fresher, its muscles not yet significantly decayed. It slammed into him with shocking force, driving him back several steps before he could regain his balance.


    Val made a split-second decision. He pulled from his aether core, stronger than before, channeling a substantial flow of magical energy into his limbs. The effect was immediate and dramatic. His perception sharpened, the world seeming to slow around him as his muscles responded with preternatural speed and strength.


    The ghoul''s next attack seemed almost sluggish by comparison. Val ducked under its swinging arm and delivered three rapid cuts to its torso, each stroke biting deep into undead flesh. The creature staggered, its attack disrupted by wounds that would have killed a living opponent instantly. Val hacked away at the still moving fiend until it stilled on the ground. His chest was heaving from the exertion of using so much aether.


    He pulled his sword free and turned to check on his squad. Elara had her back against a boulder, fighting defensively as two ghouls circled her. Her sword kept them at bay, but she couldn''t press an attack without exposing herself. Aric stood nearby, his blade bloody, having just dispatched a ghoul of his own.


    "Aric! With me!" Val called, already moving toward Elara''s position. The young ranger responded immediately, falling in beside him as they charged the ghouls threatening their squad mate.


    The fight was brief but intense. Val''s aether-enhanced speed allowed him to flank the first ghoul, his sword severing its spine with a precise cut. Aric, showing remarkable composure for his limited experience, engaged the second creature head-on, occupying its attention long enough for Elara to deliver the killing blow from behind.


    "Thanks," she gasped, blood trickling from a shallow cut on her forehead. "There are more of them higher up."


    Val nodded, quickly assessing the wider battle. The rangers had recovered from the initial surprise and were fighting effectively in their small units, but the undead had numbers on their side. And something else, the ghouls were displaying tactics. Coordinating their attacks, focusing on isolated rangers, using the terrain to their advantage. Ghouls didn''t fight that way naturally. Something was directing them.


    His suspicion was confirmed moments later when he caught sight of a larger figure moving among the rocks near the top of the slope. Unlike the shambling ghouls, this undead moved with deliberate purpose, its posture almost regal despite the visible decay of its flesh. It wore the tattered remains of what had once been fine clothing, and intelligence shone in its eyes as it surveyed the battle below.


    A wight. One of the more dangerous forms of undead, retaining most of the intelligence it possessed in life along with supernatural strength and resilience. This one appeared similar in build and clothing to the merchant whose corpse they had found in the forest. The connection was unmistakable. This wight had likely been the leader of the merchant party in life, and now commanded the ghouls that had once been his companions and guards.


    Val shouted a warning to Jorin, pointing toward the wight with his sword. The captain acknowledged with a grim nod, already moving to engage the more dangerous threat. Kaelen followed, his massive axe cleaving through a ghoul that attempted to block his path.


    "Secure our position!" Val ordered Elara and Aric, then surged his aether once more and dashed forward to join Jorin and Kaelen against the wight.


    The creature saw them coming and bared teeth that had grown unnaturally sharp in death. It drew a sword of its own. A fine blade that gleamed with a dull light despite the tarnish of neglect. The wight moved with surprising speed for its condition, meeting Jorin''s first attack with a parry that sent sparks flying from their clashing blades.


    Val circled to the creature''s flank, looking for an opening. Wights were formidable opponents, their decayed bodies still capable of impressive strength and speed, and their retained intelligence made them cunning fighters. This one had clearly been skilled with a sword in life, and death had not diminished that ability. Val was nearly caught off guard by a blindingly fast thrust from the Wight. It''s blade scraped against his abdomen and Val felt warm blood run down his side.


    Kaelen attempted an overhead strike with his axe, forcing the wight to commit to a block that momentarily left its left side exposed. Val seized the opportunity, darting in with aether-enhanced speed to deliver two powerful slashes to the creature''s hamstring. Necrotic flesh parted under his blade. Jorin and Kaelen delivered devastating blows to the fiend as it stumbled, legs not responding to its commands. The Wight stilled and necrotic aether hung heavily in the air.