Chapter 1: Prologue

Black Hollow was on fire.

The dour fortress, its stone walls having repelled countless attacks over the centuries, was blanketed in smoke and fire. Wooden supports crackled and burned, watch towers collapsing under their own weight, crashing into buildings and blocking roads. Fires spread rapidly, tendrils of orange and yellow licking out, lighting up the evening sky.

Guards amassed in the streets, shouting out orders, directing the chaos even as it ate away at the foundation of the fort-town. Civilians rushed past falling buildings, carrying their children and possessions in a mad dash for the western gate. Only two ran into the flames, their steps knocking up cinder and dust from their hurried chase.

Ragged, black robes swayed through the tumbling structures, the heavy trunk strapped to the man’s back vibrating against the faded cloth swaddling his wiry muscles. Fireballs shot from his fingertips as he ran, spreading the flames.

A hooded figure slid past a leaning beam before vaulting over a bonfire, half of a nearby roof used for kindling. The pursuer’s cloak billowed against his leather cuirass, flashes of steel flickering from the shadows of his mantle as throwing knives darted out, biting into the squirming trunk’s wooden surface.

The impacts threw the already precarious weight of the trunk out of balance, sending the mage into a stumbling run, the next flurry of fireballs flying off kilter. One flew up into the stars; the other whizzed behind him, exploding around the hooded man, throwing him from his feet.

Crashing into the side of a wall, the weakened wood crumbled against the hooded man’s weight, the cavernous inside eating the unlucky assassin. The building collapsed around him, the rogue disappearing from sight.

The man in black kept running, laughing manically, his burden in tow.

* * *

Pain wracked Talon’s body, lungs burning as he sucked in the smouldering air. His leather burned, the crackling debris laying atop him leaving streaks of black across the armour’s natural brown. With no shortage of huffing and grunting, Talon pushed against the wood pinning his chest, shifting the precarious bundle with cramping fingers. Given no small effort, he slid out, kicking away the remaining boards that clung to his breeches, the thick hide catching splinters from the rough oak.

Bundling his cloak in one hand and covering his face, Talon crouched below the gathering smoke, creeping towards the front door past chairs and shelves that acted as nothing more than fuel for the growing inferno. The combination of heat and compounding weight warped the door’s frame on one side, splintering the wood and jamming the latch. Taking a moment to gather his strength, Talon shot to his feet, kicking out. The door rattled and cracked under his boot, but stayed shut. A second kick splintered the wood around the latch and the door buckled, swinging out on its hinges.

The building shuddered, and Talon jumped out as it collapsed around him, its supports eaten away by the flames. Rolling as he hit the ground, Talon heard more than saw the debris that flew out of the tumbling structure. Groaning, Talon pushed himself back to his feet, the aching in his limbs subsiding as he regained his senses. “Gah! Where’d that bastard go?”

As if in response to Talon’s question, an explosion bloomed in the distance, a stone’s throw from the eastern gate. Without wasting a heartbeat, he rushed off towards the explosion, his approach slowed by his keeping to the main roads. This kept him from being crushed by buildings, but had its own distinct problem.

Fighting against the tide of fleeing citizens and shouting guards trying to turn him around, Talon found his progress hard-earned. The smokestack leading him seemed to stand still even as he finally broke through the crowds, making a mad dash up a set of stone steps bringing him closer to his goal.

Clanging metal caught Talon’s attention as he neared the top of the staircase, pushing him to move faster and jump steps. Striding past the final step, Talon came up into a wide clearing, the dancing inferno bordering the path to the eastern gate, the gargantuan defense standing tall in the background.

Black Hollow’s guards, each a distinguished knight befitting their titles, clashed against lithe figures dressed in blacks and purples, steel swords clashing against barbed daggers cast in iron.

Dancing along to the fire’s flickering rhythm, the rogues punched their daggers past swords and armour, puncturing veins and dyeing the roads crimson. Men collapsed, gurgling blood as it filled their lungs, the men and women dressed in shadows cackling as they tore away at flesh and muscle. Even as they themselves were cut down, flashing steel cutting through ramshackle gear, their glee continued. The hooded assailants were there for the slaughter, not victory.

Skirting the carnage, Talon watched from his peripheral as bodies piled in the clearing, the chaos left by the wildfire leaving the men of Black Hollow unprepared for the concentrated invasion. The scuffing of leather on stone alerted Talon to the surprise attack, backing away as a barbed dagger thrust through the air, passing where his head had been a moment prior.

Another invader, cloaked in dark leather, crouched low to the ground, their hectic steps leading them in a rough circle around Talon. Upon closer inspection, their armour rippled against the shadows, acting as camouflage within the evening shadows. Razor-sharp teeth sneered beneath pitiless eyes, their yellow glow like candles in the abyss cast from their frayed hood. With animalistic speed, they charged, dagger lashing out with quick, shallow stabs.

Talon drew his own dagger, sliding the blade from his belt with barely a whisper, the dull steel flicking away the jagged iron. Thrown into the defensive, Talon backed away, deflecting each hurried blow before striking out with his own, desperately clinging to every meter of ground lost. Feeling his back getting hotter with each step, Talon lunged, tossing his dagger at the shadowed face.

Twisting their neck with preternatural speed, they dodged the blade before lunging themselves, stabbing at Talon’s face.

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Talon kicked out, slamming the toe of his boot into their shin, knocking his crazed attacker off balance. With both hands, Talon grabbed and twisted their wrist, throwing them over his shoulder as he spun around. Slamming them onto their back, Talon drew one of his throwing knives, punching it down like a nail through his assailant’s neck. Pinned to the ground, they scrabbled at the small knife embedded in their throat, their twisted face grinning as the colour faded from demented eyes. Talon smacked the knife down to the base, giving them no purchase as black blood drained from the wound.

Only when the squirming stopped did Talon take a moment to examine them, tearing their hood off. The shadows that had enveloped their face washed away, revealing a gray, ashy complexion. Leathery skin covered in scars pulled taut against bruised, purple lips. The jet-black hair and pointed ears completed the grotesque picture.

Tennim. Dark elves, twisted supplicants of the dark goddess, Domitras, created to parody the purer forms of other elves.

His curiosity sated, Talon jumped to his feet and made a renewed dash for the eastern gate, picking up his dagger on the way and sheathing it.

He had wasted enough time.

* * *

The eastern gate creaked open, a dozen dark elves pushing it from within, letting a new wave of the twisted creatures flood into the ocean of flames. Snarling faces pushed past one another, some killing their own allies to get ahead, while others immolated themselves in the city-made pyres, sating their desire for blood and death in whatever form they deemed fitting.

Talon kept his distance, moving slow as he crept around the edge of the intruders’ awareness. Finding cover in shadow was impossible, so he stayed crouched behind stalls, crates, and wagons, using the blinding light of the flames to keep himself hidden. He watched as the waves of dark elves climbing over the walls slowed, most now filing past the open gate for an easier kill. Any sign of Black Hollow’s impenetrable defenses had been scorched away, its walls acting as nothing more than a slaughter pen.

This, however, wasn’t Talon’s problem.

Scanning the walls, the pock-marked stone giving plenty of handholds, Talon came to a decision. From beneath his cloak, he slipped out a pair of gauntlets. Crystalline, and blue as a clear sky, Talon slipped them over his leather gloves, tightening the buckled straps around his forearms. Their dagger-like claws shimmered against the dancing lights, blue sparks trickling from their cool surface. Talon’s eyes tingled, a familiar feeling of warmth and power flooding his muscles as he ran towards the edge of town.

In the sea of people, Talon had lost his prey. Higher ground was required. So he bounded past the few remaining buildings that still stood, dashing past where he could and jumping over when needed. A jubilant snarling echoed behind him, his new approach trading subtlety for speed, several elves peeling off from the group to chase him down.

Ahead, another elf appeared around a corner, intercepting Talon with curved shortswords and a forked tongue laced with venom. As Talon approached, the elf stepped forward, swinging both swords in a unified sweep.

Using his momentum, Talon slid under the pair of diagonal cuts, sweeping the elf’s legs with his arms. Hearing the crack of bone as the sharp edges of his gauntlets slammed into the elf’s shins, Talon kept his eyes forward as his newest assailant crashed to the ground behind him. Shooting back to his feet, Talon continued down the scorched roads, ignoring the frustrated hissing that followed his retreat.

As the mob chasing Talon grew, so did the distance between them, Talon’s heart-pumping sprint gaining ground faster than the mob climbing over each other. Tearing each other down, those in the back hacking away at those in front, the dark elves slowed themselves down. Talon hit the wall bordering Black Hollow, never slowing as he ascended, the protruding claws of his gauntlets digging in where his fingers couldn’t naturally fit.

Every second that ticked by pulled at Talon’s frustrations, baring his teeth as his prey got further away, the climb agonizingly slow. But he stayed focused, eventually cresting over the ramparts of Black Hollow’s walls.

The wind whipped at his face, now free of the confines of city walls and tight alleyways, tearing Talon’s hood from his scalp. Long strands of silver glided in the wind, cerulean eyes staring down at the dark forest stretching out below.

A short clearing was all that Talon could see, the shadowy forest hiding all those within under an endless canopy of reddish leaves. A thousand different pairs of feet stamped the clearing flat, the tracks indistinguishable from one another. Sparse groups of elves straggled from the confines of the trees, but most had already made their way inside the bulwark, and whatever else prowled the night stayed hidden from Talon’s gaze.

His prey had escaped.

Clenching his fists into tight balls, Talon yelled in frustration, cursing their name under the clear night sky, scouring his throat. By the time the elves scaled their way to the top, these echoes upon the whistling winds were all that remained of the lone hunter.

That night, Black Hollow was left to fend for itself, abandoned to fester in darkness.

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