Chapter 25: Heist of Eternity

The clearing erupted into chaos as the time wraiths lunged forward, their sinewy limbs cutting through the moonlit darkness. Alaric’s heart pounded in his chest as he gripped the Zeton tightly, the relic’s energy surging through him like an electric current. The air crackled with tension, and every second felt like an eternity.

Liora was a blur of motion, their twin blades flashing as they met the first wave of wraiths. Each strike was precise, the edges of their weapons slicing through the creatures’ ethereal forms, but the wraiths only recoiled for a moment before regrouping. Their eyes glowed a hungry yellow, and they circled like predators, waiting for an opening.

“Alaric!” Liora shouted, their voice strained. “We can’t let them overwhelm us!”

Alaric’s grip on his dagger tightened, his mind racing. The Zeton’s power pulsed in his hand, wild and barely contained, and he knew that using it was a dangerous gamble. I have to be careful, he thought, fear twisting in his gut. But if I don’t do something, we’re finished.

Jorin stood at Alaric’s side, his staff trembling in his hands. The young monk’s face was pale, but he didn’t back down. He swung his staff at one of the wraiths, the weapon connecting with a sickening thud. The creature let out a shriek, its form shimmering and distorting, but it didn’t fall.

“Stay together!” Jorin called, his voice breaking. “We have to hold the line!”

Alaric took a deep breath, focusing on the Zeton’s energy. I need control, he thought, his mind desperately reaching for calm. I can’t let the power consume me. The relic pulsed, and he felt time itself bend around him, the world warping and shifting in response to his will.

With a shout, Alaric thrust the Zeton forward, and a wave of energy rippled out, striking the nearest wraiths. The creatures let out unearthly howls, their forms shattering into fragments of light before fading into nothingness. But the effort left Alaric gasping for breath, and he felt the strain of using the Zeton’s power like a heavy weight pressing on his chest.

Liora took advantage of the opening, cutting through another wraith with a swift, graceful strike. “You’re doing well, Alaric,” they said, their voice tense but encouraging. “Keep it up!”

But more wraiths emerged from the shadows, their numbers seeming endless. Alaric’s vision swam, and he knew he couldn’t keep using the Zeton without risking another catastrophic loss of control. The relic’s energy was dangerous, unpredictable, and the battle was far from over.

A wraith lunged at Jorin, its claws aimed for his throat. Alaric’s heart lurched, and he moved without thinking, throwing himself between Jorin and the creature. The wraith’s claws raked across his arm, and he bit back a cry of pain, his dagger plunging into the wraith’s chest. The creature let out a screech before dissolving into mist, but the wound on Alaric’s arm burned, and he stumbled.

“Alaric!” Jorin grabbed his friend, his eyes wide with panic. “You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine,” Alaric lied, gritting his teeth. The wound throbbed, but he couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not now. We have to keep fighting, he thought, determination flaring in his chest. We have to survive.

But the wraiths were relentless, their forms twisting and reforming as they closed in. The clearing felt suffocating, and Alaric knew they were running out of options. The Zeton pulsed again, and he felt its power calling to him, tempting him to let go, to unleash it in full force.

“Liora!” Alaric shouted, his voice cracking. “We can’t hold them off much longer!”

Liora’s expression was fierce, but even they looked strained. “We need to break their ranks,” they said. “We have to find a way to disrupt them, or we’ll be overrun.”

Alaric’s mind raced, the pain in his arm making it hard to think. The Zeton pulsed, and he realized with a sinking feeling that there was only one thing left to try. It’s a risk, he thought, fear clawing at him. But if I don’t do something now, we’re all going to die.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the Zeton’s energy. The relic felt like a living thing, a storm he had to tame, and he reached for the calm at the center of the chaos. Please, he thought, desperation threading through his every word. Help me protect them.

The Zeton’s energy surged, and Alaric felt time bend around him, warping and twisting in ways that defied logic. He opened his eyes, and the world seemed to slow, the wraiths’ movements becoming sluggish and distorted. The air shimmered, and Alaric’s heart raced. I have to make this count.

“Liora, now!” Alaric shouted, his voice echoing in the slowed world. “Take them down!”

Liora didn’t hesitate. They moved like a force of nature, their blades slicing through the wraiths with a precision that took full advantage of the time distortion. Each strike sent a wraith dissolving into mist, and the creatures’ numbers finally began to dwindle.

Jorin swung his staff, knocking another wraith back, and the clearing began to clear. The time distortion faded, and Alaric stumbled, the Zeton’s energy leaving him drained and shaky. But the wraiths were gone, their forms reduced to nothingness, and a heavy silence settled over the forest.

Alaric collapsed to his knees, his whole body trembling. The Zeton’s power had left him feeling hollow, and the wound on his arm throbbed painfully. Jorin dropped beside him, his eyes wide with worry. “Alaric, are you okay?” he asked, his voice cracking.

Alaric managed a weak nod, though he felt anything but okay. “I’m... I’m fine,” he said, though his voice was barely a whisper. The weight of the Zeton felt heavier than ever, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had come dangerously close to losing control.

Liora sheathed their blades, their expression serious but relieved. “You did well,” they said, kneeling beside Alaric. “But you can’t keep using the Zeton like this. It’s tearing you apart.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened, guilt and fear swirling inside him. I’m not strong enough, he thought, the realization cutting deep. Not yet. But he couldn’t afford to dwell on his failures. They had survived, and that had to be enough for now.

Jorin’s hands trembled as he pressed a cloth to Alaric’s wound, his face pale. “We need to rest,” he said, his voice small. “Just for a little while.”

Alaric wanted to argue, to insist that they had to keep moving, but his body refused to cooperate. The exhaustion was bone-deep, and the Zeton’s power had left him feeling drained and fragile. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, and nodded.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Just for a little while.”

The forest was quiet, the danger temporarily at bay, but Alaric knew it wouldn’t last. The Sentinel was still out there, and the path to Tarvos was only growing more dangerous. But for now, they had survived another battle. And that had to be enough.

Just a little longer, Alaric thought, his resolve hardening. We’re not done yet.