The Divine Shallows

Chapter 15Grimwolf and Hellhound

15

Grimwolf and Hellhound

The two sisters wandered through the scenic forest for another hour, taking pleasure in the calm away from the castle. Elowyn occasionally traced her fingers along the bark of the pine trees, admiring their rough, weather-beaten surfaces and wondered how long they had been standing. These towering wood pillars were once mere saplings, and now they stood mighty—a magnificent testament to Neramyr’s origins.

As the sunlight filtering through the leafy canopy began to wane, casting shades of warm reds, soft pinks, and stunning oranges, Elyria let out a soft sigh. “It’s almost time to return. We should start heading back.”

“It’s already nearing moonrise?” Elowyn remarked.

“At least today is just listening to the High Priestess recite tales of folklore and fables.”

“Thank the Goddess for that.” Elowyn nodded in agreement. “We’re supposed to gather at the Shrine of Oswin. Do you know the way?”

“I’m not certain, but I’m sure we’ll find someone to guide us back towards the castle,” Elyria suggested with a shrug.

“Good idea. Let’s head back before it gets too dark,” Elowyn said, lifting her rosy skirts and leading the way along the natural path they had taken earlier.

Both walked in silence for a while, mentally preparing themselves to rejoin the Third Day festivities.

Breaking the silence, Elyria voiced her thoughts. “Can you sense something different about this realm?”

“Yes.” Elowyn nodded. “Lochwald feels different… It feels more alive. There’s a mystical quality to it, but I can’t quite grasp it.”

“Right?” Elyria shook her head.

They quickened their pace, eager to reach the ritual on time. As they walked, Elowyn passed the brook she had admired earlier. They should be nearing the castle now.

“We’ve been walking for quite a while. How far do you think we’ve wandered from the castle?” Elowyn questioned, her expression confused.

“I’d say no more than two miles, given our pace. Let’s just press on—we must be nearing it,” Elyria replied.

Minutes passed by and their pace didn’t slow. By this time, the sun had already departed, leaving dusk to bloom around them.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Elowyn muttered, her brow furrowing as she scanned their surroundings. “We should have returned by now. This is the same direction we came from.”

“It’s getting dark, I can’t tell anymore. I’m almost certain we’re walking in the right direction,” Elyria insisted.

“If we’re late to the ritual, father will kill us.” Elowyn said anxiously.

“Let’s not panic just yet. We can just moongate,” Elyria responded .

“Right, I should have thought of that,” Elowyn scolded herself, shaking her head in frustration.

Calling to their magic, Elowyn and Elyria attempted to summon a moongate. Though it required more effort than expected, shimmering pillars eventually materialized. Stepping through the portal, they expected to find themselves back at the castle. However, as they entered, the portal disintegrated and left nothing but faint wisps of moonlight. They were left still standing amidst the darkness of the Elberrin Forest.

Elowyn frowned and turned to her sister. “They must have altered the wards in Lochwald after all the guests had already arrived.”

Elyria nodded thoughtfully, remaining silent as she considered the situation.

“We’re in trouble,” Elowyn exclaimed, her distress evident. “You’re a divine candidate, for Goddess’ sake. You have to be at the ritual.”

“It’s okay, let’s just figure this out,” Elyria reassured. “I’m attempting to locate the castle with a spell, but there’s something in the forest that’s interfering with my magic. I can’t seem to control it the way I need to. Can you try using yours?”

Elowyn attempted to call upon her magic, but confusion clouded her expression. “That’s odd… I can’t even sense my magic, let alone summon a location spell. This is getting creepy. What about a communication spell? Can you send someone a message?”

“I’m trying. It’s like I can’t do anything with my magic in this Goddess forsaken forest. My magic won’t respond to me,” Elyria replied, frustrated as she attempted to tap into her magical reserves once more.

They froze suddenly when something stirred from the darkness behind them—a branch snapped in the forest.

Whirling around, Elyria shoved Elowyn behind her body and crouched defensively. For a tense moment, they remained frozen in silence, their senses heightened as they strained to detect any further dangers from the darkness surrounding them. They were greeted with only silence, but Elyria did not surrender from her defensive stance.

Ahead of them, obscured by the thick trees, something stirred. Both sisters held their breath as they scanned the shadows with vigilant eyes. A large hidden silhouette emerged from the darkness, not just moving, but prowling towards them at a measured pace.

Elowyn’s heart was pounding, her body was screaming at her to run. She couldn’t discern her sister’s aura through the panic that clouded her mind. She cursed the restrictive gown she wore, also regretting declining Caswin’s offer of an escort. Elyria remained steadfast, but without their magic, they were defenseless.

Elowyn recalled her studies back home of creatures capable of stifling and muting magic, creatures she believed to be extinct. The only other explanation would be a dangerous sorceress or warlock with the ability to cast a magically oppressive hex on them. With no physical weapon available, Elowyn felt hopeless to defend herself.

Continuing to lurk from the shadows, the silhouette stalked closer to the sisters and revealed itself from the brush. Elowyn’s heart stopped, eyes widened in fear. What she saw was like nothing she had ever encountered before. The creature that emerged from the veil of darkness resembled a beast of death incarnate.

Elyria’s arm shot to her skirts, and she brandished a sleek dagger to arm herself, not faltering from her guarded stance. A surprised look came from Elowyn who had no idea where the dagger came from, but she thanked her older sister in her mind a thousand times over. Her gratitude was swiftly returned to terror at what stood before them.

The beast stood on four hideous legs. It possessed two massive hind legs and two slender forelegs. The creature looked like a breed mixed between a wolf and a hellhound. What was most petrifying about the creature was that it appeared like a rotting corpse, but it was alive, moving fluidly. Its form was thoroughly decomposed, as if an expired carcass were reanimated and controlled by another force. Clumps of its dark coat were ripped from its torso and underneath were decaying layers of rancid bone, souring flesh, and putrid organs.

The smell that festered from the open wounds was unbearable. The horrible beast was large enough to meet the height of their chests when standing fully upright. Elowyn shrunk further behind her sister, paralyzed with fear. The creature prowled closer, now ten feet away from them. Its lifeless eyes bore into them, their shade a muted gray, the color of nothingness. It began to crouch into an offensive position and bore its wicked fangs. Drool dripped from its malformed maw, and it snarled with outrage.

The snarl that erupted from its throat was not something of this world—it originated from the darkest pits of hell. Elowyn’s knees trembled and her breathing turned wretched. Her eyes were fixed on the yellowing, corroding fangs of the beast that were lethal enough to gravely maim them both, perhaps even kill them.

Out of the shadows emerged two more creatures identical to the decaying beast before them, bringing their hunting party to three. The first positioned itself to attack, flanked by its two newly arrived companions assuming identical aggressive stances. Elowyn’s resolve wavered as fear gripped her mind.

“Stay behind me,” Elyria whispered. The words were barely audible, lost in the chaos of the moment.

Without warning, the first creature lunged towards them, eliciting a scream from Elowyn as it bore down on Elyria. In response, Elyria charged towards the creature, her dagger aimed for its jugular. With a swift motion, she slashed at its neck, but the beast evaded, only receiving a superficial wound. Snarling in pain, it directed its attention to Elyria.

Frozen by fear, Elowyn could only watch as Elyria faced the creature alone. Sensing her sister’s distress, Elyria summoned her courage, determined to protect them both.

The other two beasts slinked around the sisters, surrounding them from all sides. The three canines began circling them, stalking the snow-haired sisters, their predatory instincts fully engaged.

Attempting to tap into her magic once more, Elyria found her reserves still trapped within an invisible cage, stifled by the oppressive atmosphere of the forest. Despite her fear, she refused to yield, summoning every ounce of her willpower to resist the unseen force constricting her abilities. With fierce determination, she launched a mental assault against the barrier confining her powers, desperate to break free.

As the three decaying canines lunged towards them, Elyria’s panic surged into hysteria. She fought desperately to unleash her magic, driven by the singular thought of protecting her sister at all costs. With a final surge of defiance, she shattered the suppressive spell, raising her forearm to shield herself and Elowyn.

In an instant, a translucent barrier materialized before them, forming a protective sphere that shielded them completely. The three beasts, mere moments away from attacking, collided violently with the shield, their onslaught thwarted.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Elyria as she sheathed her dagger and called upon her magic once more. While maintaining a portion of her power to sustain the protective shield, she directed the bulk of her focus towards the three snarling canines.

Raising her palm, Elyria summoned an inferno. She willed the flames to split into three fiery bolts and aimed each one of them to a respective rotting heart. But before she could release the fiery bolts, a strange pulse rippled through the air, stifling her magic once again. In the next moment, her flames were smothered. She willed her hand ablaze again, but failed to produce even a flicker.

Frustrated but not discouraged, Elyria hastily adjusted her strategy. Thrusting her arms into the mossy land, she released a torrent of magic into the soil, channeling it into the ground. From her hands, luminescent tendrils seeped into the terrain and embedded themselves in the Elberrin Forest’s network of roots and vines that sprawled beneath the forest floor. Elyria commanded the roots and vines to ensnare the beasts, binding and anchoring them to the ground.

The decaying canines gnashed at the vines trapping their limbs, but the coils remained secure as the beast’s fangs attempted to shred them. With her labored breaths, Elyria grabbed Elowyn’s hand and propelled her sister into motion, fleeing from the trapped beasts. As they ran, Elyria’s mind raced for a solution, knowing that their makeshift restraints would soon falter, and the creatures would be hot on their heels once more.

Elyria cast a communication spell, projecting her plea for help as far as her magic could reach. “ Help! Somebody help! ” she cried telepathically, repeating her distress call like a blazing beacon in the ether. As they continued to run, she noticed Elowyn faltering, her complexion turning sickly, a stark contrast to her usual vibrant aura.

“Elowyn, we have to keep moving,” Elyria urged. “They’re gaining on us. We need to run faster, come on!” She pushed forward, pulling her sister along with her.

Behind them, the terrorizing snarls of the beasts grew louder, steadfast in their relentless pursuit. Despite the burning pain in her lungs and the exhaustion threatening to overwhelm her, Elyria pressed on, driven by sheer willpower.

Suddenly, her grip on Elowyn slipped, and Elyria skidded to a halt, her heart pounding in fear. Whirling around, she saw her sister sprawled on the forest floor slick with perspiration, her condition worsening by the moment. Unconscious, her breathing was shallow and her face was deathly pale, so divergent from warmth she always possessed.

Panic surged through Elyria as she realized the beasts were closing in .

“Get up, Elowyn!” Elyria pleaded, her voice choked with fear. As the creatures drew nearer, Elyria’s resolve hardened. With no other option left, she turned to face the oncoming beasts, unsheathing her dagger, and summoning another protective barrier.

The rotting hounds charged at Elyria, battering against the protective barrier she had summoned. With each strike, Elyria felt desperation welling up inside her, knowing she couldn’t ensure her and Elowyn’s escape. The shield began to crack and fragment, slipping through her grasp despite her efforts to hold it together.

Just as Elyria feared her shield would shatter entirely, a bone-chilling, immobilizing voice reverberated through the forest,.

“ Oboedite mihi, messores mortis ,” the ancient voice rasped, commanding the decaying beasts to halt their attack. Instantly, the creatures obeyed—heeling, remaining at bay.

A hunched figure emerged from the shadows, causing Elyria’s blood to run cold. Elyria’s face blanched as it came into view and her grip on the dagger began to weaken. Though fey in appearance, there was something otherworldly about this being that set it apart from any creature of Neramyr—there was an evil rooted within this soul’s very marrow.

Cloaked in black and shrouded in darkness, the figure had a wickedness that sent shivers down Elyria’s spine. A hooded cloak wrapped around the figure, concealing its feeble frame. The figure’s hooded face appeared female, thoroughly aged and decrepit.

Even the oldest fey in Neramyr did not bear the wasted, withered appearance that this hooded creature from another realm possessed.

“ Ave luna mala, filia vetus lunae. Magicam deae in perpetuum periisse putabam ,” the crone spoke in a foreign tongue, flashing a grotesque, disfigured smile at Elyria.

When Elyria remained petrified, the crone’s wrinkled face frowned.

“Moon child, you do not speak the tongue of the Old Goddess?” she inquired in Neramyran, amusement dancing in her eyes. “How curious. ”

Elyria tensed her muscles, suppressing the tremors coursing through her body as she held the dagger firmly in her grasp, ready to strike.

“Do not step any further,” Elyria managed to speak, the words clear and resonant. “I’ll kill you.”

The crone turned her nefarious flare towards Elyria, her eyes entirely black, bottomless pits. Her aura radiated wickedness, causing even the surrounding trees and vines to recoil.

“I cannot be killed, child. There are creatures within this forest that predate your kind’s very existence. Beings your kind have never encountered, even after living thousands of lifetimes,” the frail crone uttered as she slowly advanced towards Elyria, studying her intently. “But I sense a potent power within you, child. A rare magic, so infrequent, I have not encountered such in these lands since my youth.”

“Stay away from us,” Elyria warned again.

“I wonder what deeds you have performed to wield such incredible power,” the crone mused with an eerie, chilling tone.

Before the crone could speak further, she was interrupted by the high-pitched whines emanating from the three decaying canines. A sinister hiss escaped her lips as she took two steps back from Elyria and the unconscious Elowyn. Her expression twisted into one of pure disgust, spitting another message in the unfamiliar tongue.

Her gaze bore into Elyria’s soul while the next words fell from her lips. “ Ierum me videbis, filia deae veteris. ”

Elyria’s legs weakened as she heard the dreadful, dark words directed towards her.

Next, the crone commanded the three canines. “ Ad ultimum spiritum oppugnabis !”

With a final chilling glance at Elyria, the crone swiftly turned on her heel and vanished into the forest, swallowed by a mist of shadows.

The three decaying canines charged towards them, and Elyria cried out, shielding Elowyn with her own body, conjuring another protective barrier around them. However, to her astonishment, the beasts didn’t attack. Instead, they rushed past them, their rabid howls piercing the air.

Elyria followed their gaze and was stunned to see a massive brindle-coated grimwolf leaping into action, pouncing on one of the decaying canines. The clash between the two creatures shook the forest floor as they fought fiercely. The grimwolf lunged for the decaying canine’s throat, narrowly missing the beast. It retaliated with a vicious claw swipe, tearing through the grimwolf’s fur.

From the shadows behind the grimwolf, four more of its kin emerged, rushing to its aid. Together, the pack of five grimwolves launched an assault on the three decaying canines, moving with coordinated precision. Elyria could only watch in awe as fur and fangs clashed in the brutal dance of combat. Yet, despite their efforts, the decaying canines fought back fiercely, each wound inflicted on them seeming to only be parried with a blow of their own.

The forest became a battleground, with savage beasts locked in a vicious struggle. Elyria remained paralyzed, cradling Elowyn in her lap, as she watched the savage spectacle unfold before her. Time seemed to blur as the battle raged on, the grimwolves tiring from their injuries while the decaying canines pressed on, their rotting forms deceptively strong.

The pack of grimwolves had split, the largest one engaging a rotten canine alone, while the remaining four adopted a two-on-one strategy. Snarls of fury and roars of rage filled the forest as the battle waged, each side fiercely vying for victory. The confrontation seemed evenly matched, with neither side gaining a clear advantage.

Suddenly, Elyria heard a soft moan escape Elowyn’s lip, drawing her attention down. She gently brushed her hand along Elowyn’s cheek, searching for any signs of pain. Elowyn’s movements were fleeting, and she slipped back into unconsciousness. Elyria cursed under her breath, offering what little magic she had left to replenish Elowyn’s energy. Her own strength was waning .

Ahead, a merciless presence swept through the forest, causing the ground to tremble beneath them. As Elyria’s mind reeled with fear, she braced herself for what might emerge from the darkness.

In a flash of white, a sinister snarl echoed through the trees, causing both the grimwolves and the canines to pause their attacks. The brindled grimwolves fell back, leaving a wide berth for the approaching figure.

Father .

Elyria’s heart pounded with dread as she recognized him. Even as she whispered his name in her mind, she dared not speak it aloud.

King Eamon bared his fangs, unleashing another deafening snarl that shattered the surrounding forest. The trees splintered, and the ground quaked beneath them. The rotten beasts turned their attention to the king, lunging towards him with vicious howls.

King Eamon seized the first rotten canine by the throat, his eyes brimming with venom. He swiftly slammed the decaying creature into the forest floor with lethal force, the impact vibrating with a thunderous crack. A guttural yelp escaped the canine’s jaws as King Eamon crushed its windpipe with a sickening squelch, reducing its neck to a mangled mess.

As the second rotten canine lunged towards the king, another fierce figure intercepted it in a flash of snow. Elyria’s face registered Finnor grappling with the creature. Finnor’s demeanor was transformed, his usual timidity replaced by a murderous rage as he pummeled the festering creature with relentless fury. His barrage of strikes continued until the creature lay beneath him, reduced to an unrecognizable heap of fur and flesh.

The third canine rushed towards the king, but King Eamon was expectant. Again, with a bloodthirsty aura, he seized the creature by the throat, his grip unyielding. With a ferocious bellow, he tore the creature’s head from its body, rotting tendons snapping as he ripped them apart. Despite the canine’s desperate attempts to inflict damage, King Eamon’s fury knew no bounds. The creature’s head was gruesomely torn from its body, leaving behind a trail of inky, black, rancid blood. He dropped the torso with a thud, the skull tumbling to the ground beside its dismembered body.

As the shield around Elyria began to fade, she watched in horror as the exchange between her father, Finnor, and the rotten beasts ended in mere seconds. With Elowyn in her arms, her sister’s eyes fluttered with weariness, glazing her surroundings before she succumbing to senselessness once again.

King Eamon’s furious aura mollified slightly as he turned his attention to his daughters. His gaze swept over them, unreadable yet discerning, before shifting to Finnor. With a clipped tone, he issued his orders.

“Commander, escort Elowyn back to Eriden and ensure she is seen by the royal mender,” he commanded, his hands busy with cleaning themselves with a rag from his pocket.

“Elyria, you appear unharmed,” he stated flatly, devoid of emotion. “Prince Caswin, you will accompany my daughter to the Shrine of Oswin to witness the Lore of Lunaris . However, I must speak with both of you momentarily.”

From the group of grimwolves, the largest one emerged from the shadows, its form shrouded in mist before a snap echoed through the forest. Caswin Mirthwood materialized from the mist, a grimace of discomfort crossing his features while he adjusted his battered surcoat. He bowed respectfully to King Eamon before turning to acknowledge the other grimwolves.

“As you command, Your Majesty,” Caswin responded, nodding to the other grimwolves.

The four remaining grimwolves stepped forward, enveloped in mist before another snap filled the air. Four young warlocks emerged from the mist, causing Elyria to look on in astonishment. Each warlock transformed into the males she had seen in the courtyard with Caswin earlier. They were not only warlocks but shapeshifters as well. The rumors of Lochwald’s formidable warriors were proven true—skilled in both magical and physical combat.

The warlocks under Caswin’s command were battered and bruised. Some tended to their wounds, applying pressure to stop bleeding, or holding fractured ribs. With a nod from Caswin, they dispersed toward Mirthwood castle to seek further mending.

Finnor approached Elyria with a kind expression and offered her a look of sympathy. He leaned down and gently scooped Elowyn up within his arms. The moon-white scales inked on his skin began to glow as a moongate appeared and he stepped through, Elowyn in tow. Elyria reached out to Elowyn instinctively, but her arm felt numb, falling limply to her side.

Caswin, wearing a soft expression, approached Elyria and extended an arm. Gratefully, she accepted, uncertain if she could stand on her own.

The Fangwright king finished cleaning his hands, his expression grim as he turned to face Elyria and Caswin, “Tell me everything.”