Forged in Flame

Arc 2: Ambush in the Forest

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest path as the group made their way through the dense trees. The journey home had been quiet for the most part, with only the occasional rustling of leaves and the chirping of distant wildlife. But something was off—Arin could feel it in her bones.

As they trudged onward, Rethis and Lyria were walking side by side, deep in conversation about something arcane. Their bond had become stronger after the events of the Ashen Peaks, and that closeness gnawed at Arin more than she'd like to admit.

Suddenly, a faint whistling sound sliced through the air.

"Down!" Arin shouted instinctively.

Arrows rained from the treetops, and the group scrambled for cover. The attack was swift, brutal, and perfectly coordinated. These weren't just bandits or wildlings—they were trained mercenaries, hired by someone who knew their weaknesses. Someone who was watching.

Arin unsheathed her sword, scanning the tree line for any sign of the enemy. "Stay close! We can't let them separate us!"

Thorne was the first to spot the assailants—a group of shadowy figures weaving through the trees. He drew his blade, eyes narrowing. "Mercenaries. Seric's hired dogs."

As the enemy closed in, Thorne moved in front of Arin, his voice low and suspicious. "How did they know where we'd be? Who told them?"

Arin glanced at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Thorne's gaze flicked toward Rethis and Lyria. "I'm saying, how do we know Seric isn't pulling strings through them? Who's to say they're not being manipulated?"

Arin's stomach churned. The idea seemed preposterous, but Thorne's words carried a hint of truth. Rethis and Lyria had both grown up on the outskirts of power, and Seric had a knack for exploiting vulnerabilities. Still, she couldn't afford to let doubt cloud her judgment. Not now.

"Focus on the fight, Thorne!" Arin snapped, her voice commanding. "We deal with this first."

With a quick gesture, Rethis called upon his elemental magic, sending a wall of flame roaring between them and the attackers. The fire provided a temporary shield, buying the group precious time.

Lyria, ever light on her feet, darted between the trees, casting barriers of healing magic over their wounded. Her carefree demeanor from earlier was gone, replaced by the calm focus of a seasoned healer. Watching her and Rethis fight side by side, Arin felt a pang of jealousy she hadn't anticipated. They worked so seamlessly together, and though they had proven their loyalty time and again, doubt had wormed its way into her thoughts.

The battle raged on, arrows and spells flying in every direction. The mercenaries were relentless, and their numbers seemed endless. Arin felt the weight of command settle heavier on her shoulders. She couldn't afford to lose any of them.

"We're outnumbered," Thorne growled, barely parrying a blade aimed for his throat. "We need to fall back!"

Arin's mind raced. They were trapped—if they stayed and fought, they'd be overwhelmed. But if they ran without a plan, they'd be picked off one by one. Her gaze darted between the forest, her companions, and the advancing mercenaries.

"Strategic retreat!" Arin barked. "Rethis, cover our escape! Lyria, keep Thorne safe!"

They began a slow, careful retreat, falling back into the deeper woods. Rethis conjured up walls of earth and flame, creating obstacles that slowed the mercenaries' advance. Lyria kept close to Thorne, healing his wounds and ensuring he could continue to fight, despite his earlier suspicions of her.