Chapter 16: Liora’s Help

The clearing was a battlefield of tension, the mist swirling like ghostly wraiths around the flickering fire. Alaric stood behind Liora, his dagger held tight, while Jorin positioned himself defensively with his staff. The man in the black cloak stepped forward, his crossbow raised and a malicious grin stretching across his face.

“Hand over the Zeton,” the man commanded, his voice smooth but edged with menace. “Or I’ll kill you all.”

Liora’s amber eyes narrowed, their curved blades gleaming in the firelight. “You’ve made a grave mistake coming here,” they said, their voice low and dangerous. “Leave now, and I’ll let you walk away with your life.”

The man’s grin widened. “Do you think you scare me?” he taunted. “I’ve killed more people than I can count.”

Alaric’s heart pounded in his chest. The Zeton pulsed in his pocket, its energy thrumming like a second heartbeat, but he had no idea how to use its power. His mind raced, searching for a way out of this deadly encounter.

Without warning, the man fired his crossbow. The bolt shot toward Alaric, but Liora moved like lightning, one of their blades slicing through the air and deflecting the projectile with a resounding clang. The force of the strike sent the bolt spinning into the forest, and Liora’s other blade slashed forward, forcing the man to stumble back.

“Stay behind me,” Liora ordered Alaric and Jorin, their voice fierce.

The man in the black cloak snarled, tossing his crossbow aside and drawing a long, wicked-looking dagger from his belt. His movements were swift and practiced, and he lunged at Liora with deadly precision. Liora met his assault head-on, their curved blades dancing in the firelight, each clash sending sparks flying.

Alaric could only watch in awe and terror. Liora fought with a grace that bordered on supernatural, their strikes fluid and precise. But the man in the black cloak was no amateur. He moved with the brutal efficiency of a seasoned killer, and their battle became a deadly ballet of steel and shadows.

Jorin’s grip on his staff tightened, his knuckles white. “What do we do?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Alaric swallowed hard, his mind racing. “We can’t just stand here,” he said. “If he gets past Liora, we’re finished.”

The Zeton pulsed again, more insistently this time, and Alaric felt a surge of desperation. I have to use it, he realized. But how? He had no idea how to control the relic’s power, and the last thing he wanted was to make things worse.

The man in the black cloak broke away from Liora, his dagger spinning in his hand. His eyes locked onto Alaric, and a cruel smile twisted his lips. “You think you’re safe behind your protector?” he sneered. “I’ll carve that relic from your corpse.”

Liora stepped between them, their blades raised, but the man feinted left and lunged right, slipping past their defense. He closed the distance to Alaric in an instant, his dagger flashing toward the thief’s chest.

Time seemed to slow, and Alaric’s instincts screamed at him to move. He stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the blade, but he tripped over a root and fell hard onto his back. The man loomed over him, his dagger poised for the killing blow.

No! Alaric’s hand shot into his pocket, grasping the Zeton. He focused all his fear and desperation into the relic, willing it to do something—anything—to save them. The Zeton pulsed, and a wave of energy erupted from it, distorting the air around them.

The man froze, his dagger inches from Alaric’s throat, his movements slowed to a crawl. The world seemed to shudder, and Alaric felt the strain of holding the power, his vision blurring and his limbs trembling. But he had bought them a precious moment.

“Now, Jorin!” Alaric shouted, his voice strained from the effort.

Jorin didn’t hesitate. He swung his staff with all his strength, striking the man in the side of the head. The blow sent the man reeling, and time snapped back to normal, the energy from the Zeton dissipating. The man stumbled, dazed, but he wasn’t down yet.

Liora seized the opportunity, their blades flashing. They disarmed the man with a swift, precise strike, sending his dagger flying into the dirt. Before he could recover, Liora drove the hilt of one of their blades into his stomach, and the man crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

The clearing fell silent, the fire crackling softly. Alaric lay on the ground, his chest heaving, the Zeton’s energy slowly fading from his body. He had used the relic’s power again, but he knew he had barely scratched the surface of what it was capable of.

Liora stood over the fallen man, their expression cold and unyielding. “You underestimated us,” they said, their voice steady. “And now you’ll pay the price.”

The man coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. But his eyes were still defiant, and he managed a twisted smile. “You think this is over?” he rasped. “Others will come for the Zeton. You can’t protect it forever.”

Liora’s jaw tightened, but they didn’t respond. Instead, they turned to Alaric and Jorin, their expression softening. “Are you both alright?”

Jorin nodded shakily, though he was clearly shaken by the encounter. “I... I think so,” he said, his voice trembling.

Alaric sat up, wincing at the pain in his back. “I’m fine,” he said, though he felt far from it. The Zeton had saved them, but he knew it was a dangerous gamble every time he used it.

Liora’s amber eyes met Alaric’s, and they studied him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “You’re strong,” they said. “But the Zeton will test you in ways you can’t imagine. If you’re not careful, it will destroy you.”

Alaric clenched his jaw, the weight of the relic pressing on his mind. “I didn’t ask for this,” he said, his voice raw. “But I can’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”

Liora nodded, a flicker of understanding in their gaze. “Then we must move quickly,” they said. “The man was right—more will come for the Zeton. We need to reach Tarvos and find a way to control its power before it’s too late.”

Alaric’s heart sank at the thought of more enemies, but he knew Liora was right. The Zeton was a beacon, drawing danger to them at every turn. If they didn’t find answers soon, they wouldn’t survive the journey.

Jorin took a shaky breath, his grip on his staff tightening. “I’m with you,” he said, though fear still lingered in his eyes. “Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.”

Alaric managed a tired smile, gratitude filling his chest. They were in this together, for better or worse. And with Liora’s help, maybe—just maybe—they had a chance.

Liora sheathed their blades and turned toward the forest, their eyes sharp and focused. “Come,” they said. “We have a long road ahead of us. And the night is still young.”