In the far northern reaches of the Nordhall kingdom, within his small tent, beneath the welcome warmth of a thick fur blanket, Eden woke. He opened his eyes slowly, a faint smile touching his lips as the pale light of dawn filtered through the tent flap. The air was so cold that each breath formed a cloud of condensation, swirling briefly before dissipating. He playfully tried to catch the fleeting vapor in his hand.

  He rose, shivering, and quickly dressed in heavy layers of clothing. Stepping outside, he was greeted by a world of white. A pristine blanket of snow covered the ground, reflecting the weak sunlight.

  Clytos was already up, seated on a fallen log near a crackling fire, surrounded by the soldiers. They were huddled together for warmth, sipping from steaming mugs.

  Eden joined them, taking a seat beside Clytos. "Good morning," he said, his breath forming another white cloud.

  "Good morning," Clytos replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "How was your first night sleeping amidst the snow?"

  "All night, shivers and, I spent my night shivering and, chasing, pulling. The blanket, that one! It kept slipping off," Eden admitted, rubbing his arms.

  Clytos chuckled. "Don't worry, Eden. It will only be a few more days before we return to Aslilia. But now… we must head to the darkwood forest. We're close." He raised his voice, addressing the men. "Alright, lads! Prepare the cage! Secure it to the cart! We move out!"

  Clytos and Eden set off, leading the way on horseback. The soldiers followed, pulling the large, heavily-caged cart behind them. Their route took them through the increasingly rugged, snow-covered foothills, the distant, dark line of the forest a constant presence on the horizon.

  As they rode, Eden, gazing out at the vast expanse of snow-covered landscape, asked, "Master, how large are these… snow regions?"

  Clytos replied, "If you were to see it on a map, it would appear… relatively small."

  Eden, astonished, exclaimed, "My Gods! All this snow… and it's considered small?"

  Clytos, with a slight, knowing smile, continued. "They stretch, uniterrupted, to the northern borders of all the northern kingdoms. Do you know what that means, Eden?" He glanced at his apprentice, then went on, without waiting for a reply. "We are… insignificant… in this vast world. Some die without ever having left the confines of their own homes."

  "That's… sad," Eden said, a hint of melancholy in his voice. "That we're so… limited. Unable to explore all these different lands."

  "Precisely," Clytos agreed. "We are limited, indeed."

  After a period of silence, punctuated only by the crunch of snow beneath their horses' hooves and the creaking of the cart, Eden noticed something in the middle distance. A group of people, bundled in heavy furs, were walking, carrying spears and baskets filled with fish.

  "Master," Eden asked, pointing towards the figures, "do those people… live here?"

  "They do," Clytos confirmed. "There are small, isolated settlements scattered all along the snowline – a mixture of people from the various northern kingdoms, and outsiders who've sought refuge in this harsh land. They survive by hunting and fishing, clinging to life in a place where few others can."

  "A mixture?" Eden asked, surprised. "How can they accept each other, like that?"

  Clytos gave a thoughtful, sight.

  "When your enemy is the environment itself, and your only goal is survival," Clytos explained, "all notions of… luxury… of preference… fall away. Race, creed, origin… none of it matters. You search, all… anyone does is, searching for someone to rely on, someone who can help you to survive."

  Clytos, Eden, and their accompanying soldiers approached the edge of the darkwood forest – a forest that, while not enormous, still possessed a formidable presence. The trees stood tall and close together, their branches intertwined, creating a wall of deep shadow that seemed to swallow the light.

  "We cannot enter the forest on horseback," Clytos announced, his voice firm. "Leave your mounts here, secured to the cart, along with a small guard detachment. The rest of you will follow me on foot."

  The men dismounted, their movements efficient and practiced. They tethered the horses a safe distance from the forest's edge, leaving a few soldiers to watch over them and the cart. Clytos and Eden, followed by the remaining soldiers, began to walk towards the entrance to the woods.

  As they neared the treeline, Eden noticed a subtle shift in the air. A gentle warmth emanated from within the forest, carrying with it a strangely sweet, almost intoxicating fragrance. He inhaled deeply, a look of peacefulness spreading across his face. Clytos, noticing Eden's relaxed expression, immediately cautioned him. "Be warned, Eden. Do not be lulled by the forest's warmth. It is a deceptive embrace, designed to lower your guard so that it can claim you. Stay alert. Be vigilant."

  Raising his voice to address the assembled soldiers, Clytos commanded, "Alright, let's move!"

  Their steps quickened, they made it in, and they entered the forest. The immediate change was striking. The sunlight was significantly dimmed, filtered through the dense canopy, creating a perpetual twilight beneath the trees. Dark trunks and the similarly dark and dry, and a constant shower of falling leaves, a, muted rustle filled the air. They advanced cautiously, the forest remained eerily silent. No birds sang, no animals scurried. There was only the soft crunch of their boots on the forest floor… and the… unusual… snow… gray snow…. A gray snow…. covering all the sight, falling between all… trees, and that's, all their is… Eden, entranced by the strange beauty of the falling grey snow, extended a hand, catching some of the flakes as they drifted down.

  The soldiers, however, were far from relaxed. They moved with weapons drawn, their eyes constantly scanning the shadows to their left and right, their senses on high alert. Each step was measured, deliberate, a testament to their training and the very real danger they perceived.

  Clytos, in contrast, seemed utterly at ease. He strode forward with a confident air, his familiarity with the forest evident in his every movement.

  They continued deeper into the woods until they reached a slightly wider passage, where the trees were more sparsely spaced. Clytos stopped, surveying the area.

  "Alright," he said, his voice low but clear. "This will do. This is a suitable place to set the trap."

  He turned to address the soldiers. "Listen carefully. Eight of you will go and draw out the Skittermaw. The rest of you will remain here and prepare the trap. But I want no reckless actions, no foolish decisions. Your only task is to lure it here, to the trap. Do you understand? Now, go!"

  Eight soldiers, their faces grim, nodded and vanished into the deeper shadows of the forest.

  Clytos turned to the remaining men. "The rest of you, start setting up the net trap. Now."

  The eight soldiers dispatched to lure the Skittermaw split into pairs, dispersing through the shadowy depths of the forest. Each pair took a different direction, their eyes scanning the dense undergrowth, searching for any sign of the creature, that still… didn’t appeared.

  Two of the soldiers, venturing deeper and deeper into the woods, moved with a cautious, deliberate silence, pausing every few steps. One of the soldiers nudged his companion, his voice a hushed whisper. "Look! There! There it is!" He pointed towards a shape moving slowly between the trees, letting out a series of, low, guttural growls.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The second soldier squinted, peering through the gloom. "Damn! It's huge. And look how… fat it is!… This is our chance. This is our opportunity. It hasn't noticed us yet. We can take it down. I'll aim for the head with my arrows, direct hit!… It'll drop instantly."

  The first soldier, his voice filled with apprehension, protested. "Are you insane? Master Clytos told us to be careful! To lure it, not to attack it!"

  "Trust me," the second soldier insisted, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "If we take it down now, we'll get a huge reward. Look, it still hasn't seen us. Trust me. Let me handle this."

  The first soldier, still hesitant, relented. "Alright, alright. Do it. But make sure you hit it in the head."

  "Don't question my skills," said the second.

  The second soldier, brimming with overconfidence, moved stealthily towards the Skittermaw, carefully positioning himself for a clear shot. He drew an arrow from his quiver, nocked it to his bowstring, and drew back, every muscle tense with focused intent. His eyes were locked on the creature's head, sighting down…

  Release.

  The arrow whistled through the air, a deadly projectile aimed true. But the Skittermaw, despite its size, was incredibly perceptive, aware!. It sensed the arrow's approach at the last possible moment, moving with startling speed, intercepting… using hand. Using his big hand, intercepting… the shot… Deflecting the arrow meant for its head… with it’s hand!.

  The arrow struck the creature's hand, provoking a deafening, earth-shattering roar that ripped through the stillness of the darkwood forest. The Skittermaw, now fully aware of the soldiers' presence, turned its monstrous gaze upon them.

  "Run!" the first soldier shouted, all thoughts of a reward vanished, replaced by sheer terror.

  They turned and fled, scrambling through the undergrowth, their hearts pounding in their chests.

  The other pairs of soldiers, scattered throughout the forest, heard the creature's enraged roar and instinctively moved towards the sound, not attack… but knowing… that the… others are in danger!…

  Clytos and Eden, back at the trap site, also heard the roar. Clytos cursed under his breath. "Damn them! I told them not to provoke it!"

  The Skittermaw, enraged and relentless, pursued the two fleeing soldiers, its massive form crashing through the undergrowth. It leaped from tree to tree with terrifying agility, its movements belying its bulk. The soldiers, desperate to escape, fired arrows over their shoulders, but the shots were wild, ineffective.

  Suddenly, the Skittermaw dropped from the canopy, a blur of claws and teeth, landing directly in front of one of the soldiers. With a single, brutal swipe of its massive, clawed hand, it sent the man flying through the air. He crashed into a tree with a sickening thud, his body broken and lifeless.

  The other soldier, screaming in terror, continued to run, his only thought to escape. But the Skittermaw was too close. It launched itself forward, leaping, bitting… clamping its massive jaws around the soldier's head, severing… ripping. Ending it with… no more.

  One of the other soldiers, witnessing the gruesome scene, reacted without thought… impulsively!… He nocked a fire arrow, shouting, pulling.

  "Here! Come here!" he shouted, attracting the monster. He fired, loosed towards. The blazing projectile arced through the air, finding, burying into the creature.

  The Skittermaw roared in pain and fury, turning its attention to the new threat, as it starts persuing, leaving the… now lifeless… corpse, behind…. It charged towards the remaining soldiers, moving with terrifying speed and power. It leaped among the trees, appearing and disappearing in the shadows, a whirlwind of destruction.

  The next to attack, the Skittermaw strikes.

  Another soldier, falls…. One moment, he was standing; the next, his body was… torn apart… by the creature's savage assault.

  Clytos and Eden stood at the edge of the clearing, a safe distance from the prepared trap.

  Eden, taking up a position near his master, began shouting instructions, his voice echoing through the trees. "Back! Lure it back! Towards me! Towards my voice!"

  The surviving soldiers burst from the deeper shadows of the forest, scrambling towards the clearing, their desperate flight echoing the Skittermaw's enraged roars.

  Then… it appeared.

  The Skittermaw.

  It emerged from the treeline, a monstrous silhouette against the muted light, its massive form moving with an unsettling grace. It advanced slowly, cautiously, its guttural growls a low rumble that seemed to vibrate the very ground.

  It takes its time.

  The creature took a tentative step… another… its eyes fixed on Clytos and Eden.

  Suddenly, Clytos roared, "Now!"

  The net trap sprang to life. The soldiers, hidden amongst the trees, yanked on the ropes, and the heavy netting, expertly camouflaged, shot upwards, ensnaring the Skittermaw. The creature, momentarily caught off guard, roared in fury, thrashing against the confining ropes.

  "We got it!" Eden exclaimed, a surge of triumph in his voice.

  "Not yet," Clytos said, his voice grim, his eyes narrowed in concentration. He shouted to the soldiers clinging desperately to the straining ropes, "Hold it tight! Keep it contained, deeper!"

  With a swift, almost ritualistic movement, Clytos stripped off his right glove, rolling up his sleeve to expose his forearm almost to the elbow.

  "Eden, back away," Clytos ordered, his voice tight with focus.

  Eden, confused but obedient, retreated a few paces, his eyes wide with a mixture of apprehension and fascination, watching his master's strange preparations.

  Clytos reached into a small pouch that hung at his right hip. He plunged his bare hand into the pouch, clenching and unclenching his fist within. When he withdrew his hand, it was coated in a viscous, crimson fluid – his own blood, dripping between his clenched fingers.

  He raised his hand, extending it before him, palm up. Slowly, deliberately, he began to open his fist. As he did so, he started chanting, his voice a low, resonant murmur, filled with an ancient power. "Ortima… Norandum…"

  Tiny, glimmering flecks of light began to coalesce on the surface of his blood-soaked palm – Sacred Crystals, drawn to the power of the incantation, mixing with the offered essence. They swirled, danced, merging with the blood, forming a nascent sphere of fiery energy. Red, then hot orange, the miniature, molten and growing and dancing… The heat emanating from it was intense, radiating outwards in palpable waves.

  Meanwhile, the Skittermaw, enraged and desperate, was tearing at the net with its massive claws and powerful jaws. The ropes, though strong, were beginning to fray under the assault. The soldiers, their faces strained with effort, were struggling to maintain their grip, as the net weakens,… inch…by inch…

  "Tell them to retreat," Clytos said, his voice strained, his eyes still fixed on the growing ball of fire in his hand. "And you… go with them."

  Eden, his eyes wide with awe and a touch of fear at the spectacle before him, hesitated for only a moment. He then regained and rushed towards the soldiers, shouting, "Retreat! Retreat! Get back!"

  The soldiers, seeing the terrifying power that Clytos was wielding, needed no further prompting. They abandoned their posts, scrambling back towards the edge of the forest, seeking safety, all ordered by their commander. Leaving Clytos alone, face-to-face with the raging Skittermaw.

  Clytos, now, solely!… alone…, his control complete. The tips of his outstretched fingers, channeling heat. Now… blackened by it. The fireball, now had grown, taken a much larger size.

  The Skittermaw charged, closing the distance between them with terrifying speed. It leaped, aiming to crush Clytos beneath its monstrous bulk.

  At the last possible moment, Clytos thrust his hands forward, the controlled ball of fire, no longer at hand. Still… it will obey! towards, without even contact, directly… aimed the… Skittermaw.

  The fireball shot forward, not an arrow, but as a cannon shell, propelled by an unseen force, slamming into the Skittermaw's exposed belly. A rush of heat pushed those leaves, and air… Even the trees!… seemed, leaned back! Away of that coming destruction!. Everything, forced to witness…

  The impact was devastating. The creature was hurled backwards, its roar cut short by a strangled gasp, and crash landing far…faraway…. Into, within the… distant darkness. The energy of the fire magic detonated!. exploding… in a miniature, volcanic eruption of heat, light, and force. A sound mixed and punctuated with. a screech. A single…. ending… screech!

  The sheer power of the blast sent tremors through the ground. Clytos, his body, visibly trembling with exertion, his face pale and drawn. The veins in his arms and neck pulsed wildly. Then strained from, and because of… channelling such… destructive power!.... slowly, started, returning normal…. He sank to his knees, his energy utterly depleted.

  Eden rushed to his side, his voice filled with concern. "Master! Master! Are you alright? Master!"

  Clytos, his breathing ragged, managed a weak nod. "Yes… I'm… fine," he gasped. "I… haven't done that… in a long time. I'm… fine…"

  Later, outside the forest, near the horses and the cart, the surviving soldiers were tending to their remaining, single wounded comrade. One of them approached Clytos, who was now sitting, recovering his strength.

  "We… we only found one alive," the soldier reported, his voice somber. "But his injuries… they're… severe. The rest… they're gone. Dead."

  Clytos, his face etched with sadness, said, "Bury them. Bury them here. And… see to your wounded brother."

  "Yes, sir," the soldier replied, bowing his head.

  The other soldiers retrieved the Skittermaw's mangled corpse, its massive belly ripped open by the force of the magical blast. They hauled it to, in the… cage. With the grim task complete – the dead buried, the Skittermaw secured – Clytos ordered them to prepare for the return journey to Aslilia.