My corruption slammed into the rider mid-charge. Rot spread across its body in seconds—skin blackening, armor flaking away like ash. Its scream cut off as the decay reached its throat. The mount underneath dissolved into wisps of shadow that scattered on the wind.
Elle’s power erupted beside me again. The forest floor responded to her will, roots bursting from the earth to strike and protect. She caught a Hunt hound mid-leap, vines wrapping around it and squeezing until it dissolved into shadow and regret.
Bryx had transformed into something massive and terrifying—a beetle the size of a small house, wreathed in bioluminescent fury. He barreledthrough three riders at once, his chittering war cry echoing through the twisted woods. Kevin, full-sized now and buzzing with rage, dove at the Hunt’s flanks with his stinger extended.
Nimor flickered in and out of visibility, using his unstable form as an advantage. He couldn’t maintain solidity long enough to strike effectively, but he could distract, confuse, make the Hunt chase shadows through the darkness.The Sage stayed close to Nimor, their steady presence somehow keeping him more solid, more present.
Vashael’s pollen clouds created dozens of illusory copies of our crew. The Hunt wheeled in confusion, striking at phantoms while the real us repositioned among the trees.
Eltrien moved through the chaos like he knew where every rider would be before they arrived, his mycelial markings pulsing as he guided crew members away from danger with uncanny precision.
But there were too many. For every rider we destroyed, two more materialized from the shadows.
“We need cover!” Sarnyx shouted, her blade carving through another hound.
“Working on it!” Elle replied, and I felt her pulling deeper into the Root’s power than ever before.
What happened next shouldn’t have been possible.
Elle didn’t just grow new trees—she made trees that had somehow always been there. Ancient oaks with thick trunks and deep roots appeared around us. The open market square we’d been herded toward transformed into a dense grove in seconds.
“That’s new,” I observed.
“I’m improvising!” she shot back, sweat streaming down her face.
Through our bond, I felt the cost—she was burning through energy too fast. The Root’s power wasn’t meant to bend reality like this.
A rider got past our defenses, its blade aimed at Elle’s heart. I moved without thinking, my hand shooting out to catch the blade bare-handed. It should have severed my fingers.
Instead, my corruption destroyed it. Not just broke it—erased it. Theblade flickered like a dying candle, then vanished completely.
The rider stared at its empty hand, and in that moment of confusion, Elle struck. Vines erupted from its chest—not piercing through but growing from inside it. The rider screamed as it transformed, becoming a twisted tree of shadow and pale light.
Elle stumbled, and I caught her arm. The moment we touched, power exploded between us—my corruption and her Root-force not fighting but working together. Where our magic combined, reality started bending.
The remaining Hunt riders hesitated. These beings that never showed fear—they paused.
“Don’t let go,” Elle gasped, gripping my hand tighter.
We moved together without speaking. Our joined power spread outward in waves. Hunt riders caught in it didn’t just die—they changed. Some became shadow-trees. Others dissolved into flowers. One hound transformed into a fountain that sang in voices that made my ears ache.
Around us, the forest path looked distorted now. Trees flickered between green and bare. The ground shifted from moss to stone and back. The air tasted strange.
But more riders kept coming.
Elle and I ended up back to back in the center of the fight.
We moved in sync. Her Root-power and my corruption flowed out in opposite directions. Where they met, something new formed—something that defied nature.
Through our bond, I felt Elle’s mind expanding to hold power that should have killed her. She was channeling forces older than time itself. And she was doing it with the same stubborn defiance she’d shown when she first fell into Wynmire, covered in dirt and pissed off.
She was incredible. And she was mine.
The possessive thought should have bothered me. Instead, it kept me grounded, kept my corruption from consuming everything.
“Keep going,” Elle said through gritted teeth, and I felt her hand find mine, our fingers lacing together.
Again, when our palms touched, the bond erupted. Power flowed bothways—my darkness giving her light something to push against. We became one weapon, impossible and deadly.
