Chapter 3: The Beast Within

That night, they made camp in a small wooded glen beside a rushing stream. While the others rested, Richard went to check on William, concerned by his developing fever from the wolf bite.

He found William sitting alone by the fire, poking at the coals with a grim expression. How fare you this evening, my friend? asked Richard gently.

Well enough, I grunted at William without meeting his gaze. Though these woods suit me ill, they crawl with nameless terrors and broken oaths.

Richard's brow furrowed. What troubles you so much? We are brothers in all but blood, yet you seem of late to harbor ill will toward our quest.

At that, William's head snapped up, eyes blazing. Ill will? Nay, 'tis you who've dragged us into this fool's errand without care for the cost! While Drefan's power grows, we wander lost as babes, led by a man who heeds omens and whispers in the trees more than reason!

Easy, William. Calm your spirit; your words betray only fever, I pray that the protection of Yeshua cover us. Also our mission was given to us by the king himself.

Was it? sneered William, rising unsteadily to tower over Richard. Or did you simply seek to lord your faith over us lesser men, to play the hero while we do your bidding? You've always been the perfect knight—pious, true, and brave. But what about those of us who harbor doubts? Who thirsts for more than sacrificing our lives on an altar we cannot see?

Before Richard could reply, a tremendous crash sounded from the woods. The horses whinnied in fear, rearing against their pickets. Seizing swords, Richard and William ran to where the noise had emerged from the treeline. In a small clearing, a monstrous shadowy form raged and thrashed, wings beating the air.

It was a nightmare given flesh—a gaunt hybrid of man and a demonic beast, eyes burning like coals. As they watched, frozen in horror, it seized one of their sentries in clawed hands, rending him apart in a spray of gore before flinging the torn corpse aside.

William gasped, his face draining with color at the sight. But Richard steeled himself and cried, "For Eldoria and the Creator!" charging with his blade raised. The others rallied behind him, attacking with torches, arrows, and steel. But this thing was no natural predator; it moved with uncanny speed, slashing and biting.

Richard fought with righteous determination, battling the beast blow for blow until an opening came. With a tremendous overhead hew, his sword sheared through its leathery wing to cleave its heart. It let out an unearthly shriek, toppling limp over the blood-soaked leaves.

Panting, Richard turned to his men. Count yourselves—are any others harmed? At their shaken assurances of survival, he dragged a hand down his grime-smeared face. This forest breeds ill, he said heavily. From this night on, we must trust none but ourselves. Come, let us make haste from this accursed place.

As they prepared to depart under the cover of darkness, Richard approached William with a salve for his wound. His old friend regarded him with an unreadable expression, then took it wordlessly and limped away into the gloom. A chill premonition stole over Richard that the darkness they fought had not ended but had only begun to fester and unfold.