12. March of the Wraithforge Knights

Chapter 12: March of the Wraithforge Knights

The ancient fortress of Khartok had stood in silence for centuries, its blackened stone walls hidden beneath the creeping grasp of the Deadwood Forest. Few dared to approach its cursed grounds, for the stories of what lay within were enough to chill even the bravest hearts.

Deep in its cavernous halls, the Wraithforge Knights awakened.

The air was heavy with the stench of decay and burning metal as blue flames flickered to life in the hollow eye sockets of their helms. Their armor, forged from dark steel and etched with runes of binding, clinked and groaned as they moved. Each step echoed like the toll of a death knell, reverberating through the fortress.

They were more than soldiers—they were constructs of war, bound by magic and hatred. Once proud warriors, they had been twisted by King Malric’s sorcery into unfeeling instruments of destruction.

In the center of the grand hall, the Wraithforge Captain stepped forward. His armor was heavier, adorned with jagged spikes and a crimson sigil that glowed faintly on his chest. He knelt before the black crystal embedded in a stone altar, its swirling energies connecting him to Malric’s will.

“Your orders, my king,” the captain intoned, his voice like grinding stone.

Malric’s image shimmered within the crystal, his golden eyes blazing. “The phoenix bearer has entered the Temple of Embers. She seeks the power to oppose me. You are to intercept her before she succeeds.”

The captain inclined his head. “As you command.”

“She is strong,” Malric continued, his tone sharp. “Stronger than you might expect. But she is still mortal. Bring her to me alive if possible. If not…” His voice grew colder. “Then leave nothing of her behind.”

The captain rose, the runes on his armor flaring as he turned to his soldiers.

“The phoenix bearer must fall,” he declared, his voice echoing through the hall. “We march at once.”

As the Wraithforge Knights began their march, the ground trembled beneath their iron-clad feet. The Deadwood Forest seemed to recoil from their presence, its twisted trees swaying as if whispering warnings to the wind.

Small creatures scattered in terror, their instincts guiding them away from the unnatural threat. The knights paid no heed, their movements mechanical, their purpose singular.

The path to the Ashen Peaks was treacherous, but for beings such as these, no terrain was impassable. They moved with relentless efficiency, their runes pulsing in rhythm as they drew on the dark energy that fueled them.

At the edge of the forest, Serenya watched their approach from a high vantage point. Her ink-black eyes narrowed as she traced their route toward the mountains.

She had seen the power of the Wraithforge Knights before, and even she could not deny their effectiveness. But something gnawed at the edges of her mind—a faint unease she couldn’t quite place.

“Elena…” she murmured, the girl’s name strange on her tongue.

Serenya had no love for Malric, despite her alliance with him. Her motives were her own, and the phoenix bearer represented both a threat and an opportunity. If Elena succeeded in harnessing the phoenix’s power, it could tip the balance of the realm—and Serenya wasn’t certain which side she wanted to see prevail.

She turned away, her cloak billowing in the wind as she disappeared into the shadows.

Far from the Deadwood Forest, the people of nearby villages whispered of the knights’ march. Farmers and travelers spoke of seeing glowing eyes in the darkness, of the ground quaking as an army of steel passed by. Fear spread like wildfire, and many fled toward the cities, hoping to find safety behind fortified walls.

In the capital, word of the knights’ movement reached the resistance. Hidden in the labyrinthine alleys, whispers of hope and dread mingled. The phoenix bearer had risen, but would she rise in time to face this unstoppable force?

By nightfall, the Wraithforge Knights reached the base of the Ashen Peaks. The air grew warmer, carrying the faint hum of the phoenix’s presence. The captain paused, his eyes scanning the rugged terrain.

“She is close,” he said, his voice filled with grim certainty.

The knights spread out, their blue flames casting eerie shadows across the jagged rocks. They moved without rest, their glowing eyes fixed on the path ahead.

The hunt had begun.

To Be Continued...

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