The Music Box Chronicles

Chapter 8 Fiery Bandit

[CONTENT WARNING VIOLENCE]

The dense forest surrounded Lyria like a cloak of shadows, the towering trees blocking out much of the moonlight. Bandits lurked in every corner, their base hidden deep within the wilderness, fortified by tall, crudely forged wooden barriers. Lyria, her lithe form cloaked in darkness, moved with the grace of a predator, her movements soundless as she crept closer to the camp. Her breathing was steady, controlled, as her violet eyes scanned the perimeter, assessing her target.

With a sharp inhale, she reached out her hand, and a shimmering silver magic began to weave its way around her fingers, creeping slowly down her arm. The magic tingled as it coursed through her veins, an eerie light illuminating her hand in the dim forest. It wrapped around her like a second skin, making her fingertips hum with power.

Focusing her mind, she released the spell, directing the magic toward a bandit stationed on nightly watch atop the wooden barricade. The spell snaked through the air like a whip of silver thread, wrapping around the man's ankle. With a quick pull, she yanked him down from his perch. He fell hard, his head slamming into the ground, rendering him unconscious almost instantly. Lyria crouched beside him, her black metal daggers already drawn from the sheaths on her hips.

She raised her dagger but paused for a brief moment as the moonlight illuminated the man's face. He was young, barely more than a boy. His features were soft, unscarred by the life of violence he'd no doubt been thrust into. Lyria's grip loosened, and she lowered the blade. Silently, she slid her hand into his pocket, retrieving a set of keys before vanishing into the shadows like a ghost.

The camp was alive with the low murmur of voices and the occasional clink of weapons being sharpened. Lyria stalked through the shadows, her dark attire blending seamlessly with the night. Bandits, both men and women, patrolled the area, but they never saw her coming. Her magic was her ally, and with a subtle flick of her wrist, she summoned the power of telekinesis. Silver energy crackled in her hand as she directed the magic toward the older bandits, pulling them down or flinging them against walls with effortless precision.

One by one, she incapacitated them with a swift, brutal efficiency. She reserved her deadliest strikes for those hardened by years of violence, but the younger ones—those who had yet to be fully lost to the darkness—she spared. She knocked them unconscious, leaving them alive but defeated, her blades untouched by their blood.

Lyria scaled the wooden tower at the center of the camp, using her water magic to manipulate moisture from the air, freezing it in place to create slick handholds as she climbed. Each step was calculated, her senses sharp, until she finally reached the top where the captives were held. In the dimly lit cell room, she found the villagers huddled together, their faces pale with fear and exhaustion.

Her helmet cast a shadow over her features as she approached the iron gate. She quickly unlocked it with the stolen keys, the door creaking as it swung open. The villagers hesitated at first, unsure if they could trust the haunting figure before them, but Lyria's violet eyes, peeking through the narrow slits of her helmet, reassured them.

"Go," she said, her voice low but commanding. "You're free."

The villagers murmured their gratitude, some even bowing slightly as they passed her. Their relief was palpable as they hurried down the tower's steps, eager to return to their village. Lyria followed closely behind them, ensuring they made their way out of the camp. However, as they approached the entrance, a massive figure blocked their path.

The man was hulking, easily twice Lyria's size, with thick, corded muscles covered in tattoos. His fur and leather hunter's armor was worn from battle, and deep scars crisscrossed his face, marking him as a man who had survived countless fights. A cigar smoldered between his lips as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes gleaming with malice.