Only Skeletons Remain

Chapter 15: The Ambush

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, jagged shadows over the Bandito Camp. Miguel's heart raced as he sprinted through the underbrush, his breath ragged. He had felt the ominous weight of Aegishorn's warning ever since he left the cave, but now, with the air thick with tension and the faint scent of smoke on the wind, it was unmistakable.

His feet pounded the earth as he approached the outskirts of the camp. The once lively hub of Bandito activity had fallen eerily silent. No laughter, no banter, not even the familiar rhythm of tools clinking against metal. Instead, the smell of ash and the distant murmur of voices sent a shiver down his spine. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.

Miguel slowed, crouching behind a fallen log. His eyes darted toward the camp's clearing. The flickering light of dying campfires barely illuminated the scene ahead. He scanned the area, searching for any sign of his family, of Lara—anyone. But all he saw were dark shapes moving stealthily in the shadows.

Then he saw them.

A squad of armored figures slithered through the trees, their movements too coordinated, too precise for Banditos. Their weapons gleamed in the dying light. They were setting up—positioning themselves for an ambush. Nightshriekers were gathering in the trees like vultures ready to strike. And right in the middle of it all, Juan talking to another Bandito.

Miguel's heart leaped into his throat. The omen—the warning from Aegishorn—it was happening now.

Without thinking, Miguel bolted from his hiding spot, rushing toward the camp. His voice caught in his throat, but as he drew closer, he found the strength to yell, "JUAN!"

The Bandito Leader spun just in time to see Miguel barreling toward him, but it was too late.

The first arrow shot through the air, its deadly whistle slicing through the silence. Miguel dove, tackling Juan to the ground as the arrow thudded into the dirt where Juan had stood moments before. The camp erupted into chaos as the Nightshriekers and Sentinels sprang their ambush.

"Get up!" Miguel hissed, pulling Juan to his feet. "It's an ambush!"

The sound of clashing metal rang out as the Banditos fought to defend their camp. Sentinels from DEMA descended from all sides, their movements sharp and efficient. Miguel's pulse pounded in his ears as he fought to keep up, pulling the leader through the confusion.

Lara appeared out of the smoke, her eyes wide with panic as she fended off a Sentinel's blade. She caught sight of Miguel and Juan, her relief quickly replaced with fury. "What are you doing here?!" she shouted, swinging her weapon with a snarl.

"Saving your lives!" Miguel shouted back, ducking a spear thrust.

But the Sentinels were relentless, their ambush precise. Miguel slashed at a soldier, only to see another closing in on Juan. The leader was fighting, but he was struggling, and Miguel knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

Another warning flashed in Miguel's mind—the words of Aegishorn echoing louder than ever. The loss will weigh heavy, and no force in this world can undo the fate that awaits. He continued his fight, dodging the Nightshriekers and Sentinels alike. After what felt like ages, the fighting ceased.

The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows over the Bandito camp. Smoke curled lazily into the air from the aftermath of the ambush, and the ground was littered with the remnants of battle—shattered weapons, blood-soaked earth, and the fallen.

Miguel moved through the camp, his heart racing, his mind still reeling from the chaos. His clothes were torn, and the sting of fresh cuts reminded him just how close they had come to losing everything. He wasn't sure where Lara or Juan were, but his gut churned with dread.