The Hoard
The air inside was stale, thick with the scent of oil and old parchnt. Crates stacked high along the walls, their lids pried open to reveal glints of gold, rolled silks, and wax-sealed docunts.
But it was the center of the room that seized their attention.
Artifacts pulsed on low pedestals—jagged crystals, their cores swirling with unstable Essentia, veins of corruption spiderwebbing across their surfaces. Nearby, weapons glead: curved blades of blackened steel, their edges too sharp, too hungry, to be of any mortal forge.
And at the far end, resting atop a pedestal draped in moth-eaten velvet:
A sealed box.
Its surface was etched with a sigil—a phoenix, wings spread, its talons clutching a shattered crown. A house long since scrubbed from the records. Erased.
Towan let out a slow whistle. "This is enough to fund a kingdom... or tear one down."
Karn’s grin was all teeth. "Weapons like that’d buy a man a continent." His fingers twitched toward the nearest blade—
Elliot’s voice cut through the air. "Don’t."
Karn froze. Elliot didn’t look at him. His gaze was fixed on the artifacts, their sickly light playing across his face. "That Essentia’s volatile. Touch it, and you’ll lose more than your hand."
A beat. Karn withdrew, but his eyes lingered on the steel. "Fine. We split it later." The words were light, but the edge beneath them wasn’t.
Elliot watched him
Then—a sound. Distant. tal screeching on stone.
Towan stiffened. "They’re coming."
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Elliot’s hand hovered over the sealed box. For a fraction of a second, the phoenix’s eyes seed to glow.
Then he snatched his hand back. "Leave it. We move."
Karn’s jaw tightened. "You’re joking."
"No." Elliot was already turning. "This isn’t loot. It’s bait."
Behind them, the artifacts pulsed, as if laughing.
The chamber plunged into cold—a sudden, unnatural frost that crept up their arms and coiled in their lungs.
The lights flickered, then dimd, as if sothing was drinking the energy
from the air.
Then—footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Three figures erged from the shadows.
Tall.
Humanoid.
Wrong.
Their skin was cracked obsidian, veins of molten gold pulsing through fissures that split across their bodies like dried riverbeds. Their Essentia didn’t sputter or twist like the failed subjects—it moved with them, smooth and rhythmic, a grotesque parody of mastery.
Towan took a step back. “Those aren’t bandits.”
The central figure tilted its head. When it spoke, the voice was too clean, too precise—like a scalpel deciding where to cut.
“We are the ones who succeeded.”
No snarl. No taunt.
Just fact.
Elliot’s body tensed. He dropped into a stance—feet shoulder-width, arms half-raised. His fingertips sparked faintly with pale Essentia.
The figures moved.
No warning. No battle cry.
Just motion—inhumanly fast.
Karn barely got his sword up in ti. A fist slamd into the steel, sending him skidding back across the floor, boots shrieking against stone.
Towan ducked a sweeping claw—too slow. A backhand caught him in the ribs, launching him across the chamber. He hit hard, gasping, rolling to his feet.
Elliot didn’t hesitate.
He surged forward, not with a blade—but with precision. His palm glowed pale-blue, forming a dense arc of compressed pressure.
He struck—center mass.
The hit landed clean—
But the figure didn’t budge.
It turned its head, slowly.
Eyes like glowing pits locked onto his.
“You are the variables.”
Elliot leapt back, narrowly dodging a retaliatory strike that cratered the floor where he’d stood. He landed low, breathing steady.
No fatigue.
No wasted movent.
No fear.
This wasn’t a robbery.
This was a field test.
And they were the data.
The tallest figure advanced, obsidian skin gleaming under the flickering lights.
“Do not worry,” it said, voice smooth as oil. “Your defeat is imminent. You may yet beco as perfect as we are.”
Towan wiped blood from his lip—and grinned.
“Perfect?” He stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. “Hate to break it to you... but you're miles off.”
Sothing pulsed behind his eyes.
Flashes. Movents he didn’t rember learning. Fights he hadn’t fought.
Elliot’s form. Soone else’s grace.
Who were they?
No ti.
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