The Roar Beneath the Trees [Part-2]
And then came something stranger yet. Out of the churning flock, one bird detached itself, flying directly at them. Its plumage shone a dark, unnatural emerald green, each feather etched with dimly shimmering runes. The symbols pulsed as if alive, vibrating with a power that caused the air to ripple about its form. Something was bound to its leg, swaying as it approached. The bird did not stumble. It hovered in front of the commander, slow deliberate beats of its wings, piercing gaze locked onto him with an intelligence that was almost too human for comfort. Then it extended its leg forward, presenting the message.
The general extended his hand, loosened the knot, and the moment his fingers let go of the tie, the beast disintegrated—splitting into a vortex of green energy that dissolved into the air.
He opened the letter. His expression changed as his eyes traveled down the page. There was the stiffening of his jaw, followed by the darkening of his eyes. By the final line, his fist had closed so tightly the parchment creased and folded under his pressure. His chest inhaled sharply, heavily.
One soldier cautiously came forward, reading his commander’s face. "Commander... what’s wrong?"
The general’s response was low and menacing, each word sharp as a knife. "Disperse throughout the forest. Cast all the vials I provided you. Then fall back at once. Let the beasts feed on all they can find."
The soldier stiffened, furrowing brows. "But, sir... that will lead the beasts right into the villages—the innocents—"
"Do it!" The commander’s bellow rattled the air, the trees themselves quivering in terror at the strength of it. His voice thundered across the camp. "There are no innocents remaining to be saved. The Starlight Duchy is already lost. That son of a bitch—Duke Edric—has betrayed us. He’s allied with the enemy!"
The words fell like hammer blows. The battalion shuddered with shock, their disbelief contorting into rage. Duke Edric? In league with the enemy? The mere idea sent shivers running through their blood. Subversion murmurs erupted among the men, their discipline breaking under the impact of what they had just been told.
The commander pushed the crumpled letter against a soldier’s chest, eyes blazing with fury. "Read it for yourself if you believe I lie." His teeth clenched, his face a map of fury, but also of buried grief.
None of the men dared to question further. They had marched behind this commander long enough to understand—he never lied. Hesitation still passed through their eyes, an instinct fueled by fear and conscience. The commander saw it immediately. His voice cut through their doubt, final and unyielding.
"You heard me. Spread the vials. Move quickly. We take Vellore here, no matter the cost."
The voice of the commander sliced through the night as coldly as steel unsheathed. The uncertainty among the ranks disappeared in a flash. Orders were orders, but this time, each soldier sensed the weight hidden within them. Their faces hardened, their eyes grew somber, and an unexpressed reality glued them together: this was no such tactic.
Boots crashed against dirt and knotted roots as they scattered, every soldier dipping into his storage ring to pull out a delicate, tiny vessel. Dozens of glass vials reflected the moonlight, filled with a heavy red liquid that clung to the glass like living blood.
This was no ordinary poison. What they bore was an alchemical abomination—purified from the heart of Grandmaster-ranked creatures, mixed with uncommon flowers infamous for their ferocious qualities, and colored with human blood. A product of sadism, originally designed to awaken beasts in subterranean arenas for the entertainment of the nobles. A drop could turn even the most docile beast into a ravenous killer. Several drops could turn an entire wasteland into a killing field. Tonight, the forest itself will be their sword.
Corks were drawn, glass shattered, and the initial vials exploded against moss and bark. One after another, they burst open in hollows, streams, and decaying roots. The ground drank thirstily, air thickening as the odor seeped outward—metallic and sweet, a scent so pungent that it stuck in the throat. It was intoxicating, reminiscent of wine that had been laced with blood, and it spread quickly, on the breeze as if it longed to be devoured.
Leaves shook as if gripped by an invisible hand, limbs clattered with no suggestion of wind. A corkscrew tension arose from low in the trees, primeval and vigilant, as if some ancient thing had been waiting for this. The quiet was shattered—no voice, no crash, but by a tremor that crept through bark and bone both. The woods were awake, and their appetite was limitless.
A bellow rent the air, savage and raw. Another, then ten more in a crescendo of storm. Birds exploded from the canopy in frantic flocks. Predators roared, their bellowing combining into a hideous choral cry. The ground trembled under the stamping of titanic bodies, forms too large to be of this realm. Branches crackled like dry bones, agonized screams rent the air, and eyes that burned blood-red saw through the darkness. Creatures that had dominated the forest for generations now charged forward as one, their intent honed into a single killing purpose.
Smoke drifted far away. Fire flickered along the edge of the wood, its tongues licking ravenously at leaf and bark, spreading like a famished mouth that would not close.
From a ridge overlooking it all, the commander stood still. His eyes were fixed on the fire, his gaze narrowing to the tip of a needle of hatred. His lips had moved, the words whispered but heavy with a curse.
"Edric... you foul cur. If I ever have you in my hands, I’ll rip you in two myself."
But hatred would have to wait. War came first.
A soldier paced over to his side, armor creaking softly as he bowed. "Commander, the vials are in place. The creatures will hold off the foe."
The commander did not wince from the searing horizon. "Good." He spun on his heel, cloak cracking with the movement. "To the capital. His Majesty needs to learn of Edric’s treachery by nightfall.
The command was sufficient. The soldiers nodded and dropped into formation, their black armor flashing once before the darkness engulfed them. The commander cast one last look toward the inferno raging through the forest, then took his battalion into the night. Behind them, all was chaos—fire racing, animals raging, earth shaking beneath the tempest they had unleashed.
And with that, the soldiers disappeared into the darkness, leaving destruction to flourish in their path.