Betrayal

"ATTACK THEM!!"

Finnegan's command pierced the air, urging Gareth into action. With a swift, practiced motion, he lunged at the undead monstrosity, his sword slicing through its decaying form. Meanwhile, the looming ogre advanced, its club raised menacingly.

Summoning his inner power, Finnegan unleashed a torrent of flames that engulfed the ogre, eliciting a tortured scream before it fell, consumed by the inferno. Swiftly, Gareth turned his attention to the priests, hacking through them with grim determination. Finnegan, his dagger in hand, joined the slaughter, swiftly dispatching their adversaries.

As the echoes of battle subsided, an eerie cackle resonated through the castle, sending a shiver down Finnegan's spine. He knew confronting that malevolent spirit was an endeavor he wanted to avoid at all costs. His spells and weapons seemed futile against such a foe. Perhaps fleeing from this accursed place was the wisest course of action. However, the matter of the merchant's daughter, Elena, weighed heavily on his mind.

"Let us flee! Surely Elena has found refuge in the forest by now," Finnegan urged.

In a heart-stopping moment, a frightening scream shattered the silence. Before Finnegan could react, Elena, her eyes wild with terror, emerged into the candlelight.

"Gods, we must run! A monster pursues!" The urgency in her voice spurred them into motion.

Finnegan grumbled about the missed opportunity to collect goblin ears, a macabre trophy he often sought. Gareth, however, admonished him, emphasizing the value of their souls over such grisly trinkets.

Despite the tension, Finnegan found a strange humor in Gareth's rebuke. He made a mental note to tease his friend about it later, should they survive. For now, he heeded Gareth's advice and focused on escaping the castle.

Once in the safety of the forest, exhaustion settled over them. They chose to forgo a campfire, wary of their closeness to goblin territory. Instead, they took out their sleeping rolls from their backpacks, the cold night air nipping at their weary bones.

Observing Elena, clad only in tattered remnants of her attire, Finnegan offered his blanket with a respectful bow. She accepted it with a gracious smile, expressing her appreciation for the chivalry she found in the heart of the Fallowland Forest.

Gareth, with a contented sigh, claimed the first watch. Wrapped in his own blanket, he leaned against a tree. Finnegan tried to playfully jest about the watch, but Gareth's good-natured humor didn't materialize. Instead, he surrendered the blanket and settled in for much-needed rest.

When his turn came for the watch, Finnegan couldn't help but steal a glance at the slumbering merchant's daughter. Moonlight gently illuminated her delicate features, prompting a pang of guilt within him. She had just lost her father; she was not some casual acquaintance from an inn.

Determined to stay vigilant, Finnegan waited for Gareth's snores to signal his slumber before delving into his spellbook. A single candle provided a feeble glow, casting dancing shadows across the arcane symbols. The familiarity of the ancient text offered a comforting anchor in the dark forest.

Suddenly, a triumphant exclamation escaped Finnegan's lips, rousing Gareth from his half-slumber. In the dim light, Finnegan's discovery of an invisibility spell sparked a glimmer of interest.

"Rest, my friend," Gareth murmured, succumbing once more to sleep.

Aware of the dangers of goblin territory, Finnegan remained vigilant throughout the night. Yet, as the hours slipped away, fatigue overcame him, and he fell into a fitful slumber.

An urgent whisper from Gareth jolted Finnegan awake. The distant hoot of an owl punctuated the silence before human voices, not goblin, murmured through the trees.

"They approach along the trail," Elena warned, huddled in her blanket.

"To the trail, but keep silent," Gareth instructed, the three of them edging towards the path.

Hidden in the underbrush, they watched as a procession of Morgrimm priests, their torches flickering, emerged into view. The moonlight offered glimpses of their faces, and Finnegan's recognition was instant. Lady Annalise, the beautiful daughter of Lord Conor, walked alongside her father. The revelation of her allegiance to Morgrimm was a disheartening discovery.

Curiosity piqued, Finnegan's gaze turned to the man accompanying her. After a moment, recognition dawned: Lord Conor, a man of esteemed lineage, entangled in this nefarious affair.

However, it was Lady Annalise who commanded his attention. Her dark hair framed a graceful neck, her skin radiant in the torchlight. The golden symbol of Morgrimm hung over her heart, a stark contrast to her warm brown eyes.

Lord Conor's words hinted at unfinished business, and Lady Annalise's resolve to never return held a note of finality. Finnegan couldn't help but wonder about the unicorn, a magnificent creature bound and carried by the priests.

After the column had passed, Gareth broke the stillness with a sigh. The mention of the unicorn lingered in the air, prompting speculation about its fate.

"Those fools won't treat it as a mere pet," Finnegan mused, referring to Elena's suggestion of a far more sinister fate.

Determination filled Elena's eyes as she seethed against the departing priests.

Feniggan suggested, "Or we could follow them from a distance and learn more about our quarry? Perhaps strike at a more opportune time," nodding to his comrade. Gareth, known for his keen combat tactics, seldom led them astray.

Elena countered, "And perhaps they will notice us following them, or perhaps they are journeying to some vile fortification that we cannot hope to storm? I say we ambush them now while they're in the open."

Gareth weighed the options. "Very well, let us proceed with the ambush. We'll target the unicorn first. If we can free it, it might create enough chaos for us to escape."

With the decision made, they exchanged determined looks. Moonlight filtered through the forest leaves, casting shifting patterns on their faces. They moved silently, hearts pounding, shadows in pursuit of shadows.

The night air grew colder, the tension thicker. They edged closer to the trail, their breaths slow and measured, their senses attuned to every rustle of leaves and distant footfall. The plan was set, the stakes high. As they positioned themselves for the ambush, a sense of foreboding lingered in the air.