Now, before we have any confusion about what''s going on, let me set the record straight. Solari had me write down this account of the events when Torglel and I were sent to investigate the town just outside Adrasteia Forest—while Solari and Alythiel pressed on ahead into the depths of that enchanted sprawl. In case you still haven''t figured out who''s writing this, it''s me, Laboritus—Thuumar, archer, and the one stuck chronicling this mess while the others play hero in the woods.


    Let me recount that grim occurrence, etched sharp in my memory.


    Torglel and I entered a town that was as quiet as it was haunting. The silence pressed down like a weight, thick and suffocating—a stillness that whispered of violence too fresh to settle. The air stank of rot and iron as we moved through narrow streets, boots crunching on shattered glass and splintered wood. The reason for the quiet hit us like a gut punch: mutilated bodies lay strewn about like broken dolls, a tableau of a massacre. Torn limbs, gashed torsos, faces frozen in terror—something monstrous had torn through here, leaving not a soul alive.


    We approached what I surmised to be the marketplace—a once-thriving hub now a graveyard of shattered stalls and spilled wares. My instincts, honed by years dodging death, screamed that danger lurked in every shadow. The wind carried a faint copper tang—the unmistakable scent of blood. My grip tightened on my bow. As I passed a row of broken stalls, a soft, disturbing sound—wet, rhythmic—slithered from behind one. I crept forward, silent as a breeze over stone, until I rounded the stall''s edge.


    There, in the dim light filtering through cracked roofs, I caught sight of a creature feasting on what I assumed had been a resident. It was eerily like Solari''s kind—dark skin, pointed ears—but warped by some foul twist. Talons gleamed where hands and feet should''ve been, sharp enough to rend steel. Its maw bristled with dagger-long teeth, dripping red, and pitch-black wings flexed behind it, night made flesh. Its eyes glowed, black as coal pits, feral and alive with hunger.


    I notched an arrow, pulse kicking up as I drew the string taut. The creature''s head snapped up, locking onto me with that soulless stare. No hesitation—I loosed the shot. It sliced the air with a whistle , burying itself deep in its neck. A piercing shriek split the silence as it crumpled, lifeless, blood pooling beneath it.


    But that was only the beginning.


    The sky darkened fast, like ink spilling over parchment. I glanced up, alarm prickling my spine, and saw hundreds of those abominations—identical to the one I''d felled—taking flight against the blackened firmament. "Where did all these monsters come from?" I wondered, dread coiling tight. The town was supposed to be deserted—a ghost husk. Their sudden swarm felt like the air itself had birthed malevolence, a nightmare given wings.


    I dove into the nearest merchant stall, heart hammering, wood creaking under me. Peering from behind a counter—splintered and stained—I unleashed arrows skyward, aiming to thin the horde. Each shot struck true, piercing wings and throats, bodies plummeting like stones. But they were relentless, a tide of claws and teeth. Amid the chaos, I caught Torglel—his fire blazing wild. Wings of flame erupted from his back, brilliant and fierce, and he soared up, fearless. His booming laughter rang out as he swung his hammer, smashing anything in reach, skulls cracking like dry timber.


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    For a brief moment, I couldn''t help but recall a skirmish from days past—him laughing through the fray, me picking off stragglers. Shook my head—focus, damn it. The battle wasn''t over.


    Our efforts halved thier numbers with ease, a slow grind of steel and fire—but they weren''t done yet. One broke from the swarm, dive-bombing me, too fast for an arrow. I braced, timing it, and grabbed its throat mid-lunge. With a grunt, I slammed it into the dirt, stomping its skull flat—crunch swift and final.


    Glancing back, I saw Torglel flanked, a creature angling for his blind spot. I fired—my last arrow—nailing it dead center in the head. It dropped, but my quiver hung empty, a hollow weight. Odds were slipping.


    No sooner had I caught my breath than another dove at me, talons glinting. I leaped aside, dust kicking up, and it wheeled back, relentless. Dodging a flurry of slashes, I ducked low, searching for a gap. It overreached—I seized its arm, yanked it close, and snapped its neck with a twist. Quick. Brutal. Done.


    "Torglel, I''m out of arrows!" I shouted, voice raw with strain.


    His laugh boomed from above. "Not a problem, friend! You better get to cover—things are about to heat up!"


    I bolted into the nearest building—a gutted shell of a home—ducking behind a shattered window. Through the jagged frame, I watched Torglel transform. Flames swallowed him, brilliant and raging, a fiery angel of death. He rose, circling fast, speed building. A towering cyclone of fire erupted around him, a searing vortex that sucked every creature into its maw. They burned, shrieking, reduced to smoldering ash one by one.


    When the last fell, the cyclone faded. Torglel landed, flames winking out, and laughed triumphantly. I stepped from my shelter, boots crunching ash, still reeling from the display.


    "Your skills never cease to impress me, Torglel," I said, admiration cutting through my relief.


    He clapped me on the back, hard enough to rattle my teeth, grinning wide. "Now that we''ve exterminated this town''s pest problem, let''s catch up with Solari and Alythiel."


    We made our way to the town''s edge, silence giving way to the forest''s dense border. As we stepped under Adrasteia''s boughs, a brilliant blue light flared around us, sharp and sudden, then vanished.


    "What the blazes was that?" Torglel exclaimed, shock twisting his face.


    I shrugged, squinting at the canopy, leaves glinting oddly. "I have no idea, but something tells me Solari''s tangled up in it." Mystery piled on mystery with every step.


    Before long, we found them in a clearing—Solari and Alythiel, deep in talk with a raccoon and a field mouse. I''ve seen bizarre things, but this topped them all. The raccoon carried an air of command, robes swaying, while the mouse''s tiny voice held a surprising steel.


    Torglel couldn''t resist. "Oi, Solari! Who''s the talking trash panda?" he bellowed, mischief lighting his grin.


    Petrus rolled his eyes. "My name''s Petrus, and we Magicaes don''t partake in trash, you loud imbecile," he retorted, amusement clashing with exasperation.


    Solari filled us in on the forest''s madness—raccoon fights, time spells, training. I recounted our grim tale: the massacre, those twisted Drydalis, our desperate stand.


    "Sounds like they were more or less feral versions of the Drydalis," Solari mused, brow furrowing as he chewed on it.


    "Training, huh," I added, a wry smile creeping in. "Seems like something we could all use for the battles to come." I meant it—every edge mattered now.


    Reflecting on that day''s chaos, pride and sorrow tangled in my chest. The town was a warning, a scar of our enemies'' cruelty. Yet amid the blood, there was us—Torglel''s fire, my bow, Solari''s grit, even these odd forest folk. Each played their part, a family forged in carnage, carrying our burdens and our fight against the dark.


    As I penned this, echoes lingered—steel clashing, flames roaring, those creatures'' eerie cries. Our journey''s far from done, mysteries barely cracked. But setting this down, I felt a quiet steel. We''d press on, together, no nmatter what horrors waited. Let''s get back to Solari''s tale—this isn''t the Age of Laboritus, after all.