On this night, the cloak of darkness was no friend to the elves.

They hid within the cover of their shelter and peeled leaves out of their way so they could observe the immediate area, but the frozen night would not give up its secrets and the moons gave off barely more than a glimmer of light.

Tin’lo’s grip tightened on his bow and Tu’lar crept up next to him with a dagger and a pouch in his hands. Anar’dea sat with a bow drawn and ready as Trat’catha’s javelin pointed to the ceiling of their shelter. Raj’ken nervously peered out, frozen in place.

Thu’lain rested his back against the trunk of a tree with his dagger in his hand and, unlike the others, he closed his eyes and focused only on what he could hear.

The first wingbeat of the night was distant and alone, but it wasn’t long until they heard many more.

Almost sounds like a storm.

So many wings were beating through the air that the leaves of the trees were rustling in the breeze. The shelter wasn’t as high into the canopy as it could have been, since Raj’ken and Tin’lo were uncomfortable being too high up.

They were right.

Through the night air Thu’lain heard the wingbeats, some of them becoming louder and causing him to tense.

So far they haven’t found us yet.

He slowly moved from his spot to the edge of the shelter in order to peer out into the air to get a better idea of what they were dealing with.

Oh, they’re big ones.

Thu’lain started to track the leathery-winged creatures as they flew past, finding that the same ones never passed them twice. He turned inward towards the others and started to sign.

“They don’t know we’re here.”

“How many do you see?” Anar’dea signed back.

“Dozens or more.”

Tension extended well into the next few hours and the elves could not find it in themselves to relax, standing and carefully grouped in the center of their shelter to cover each other’s sides, even though they had yet to be detected. There were more Ar’ghul now; what had once been dozens of wingbeats had become hundreds clogging the forest.

The shelter shook, an Ar’ghul landing to graze on the roof. Thu’lain’s eyes shot to the spot that it had hit, locking onto the now-missing branches that had snapped away on the impact. He stared out into the night sky through a hole no larger than his head and could see the swarming Ar’ghul outside. It didn’t take long for the other elves to lock eyes on the hole expectantly.

A distant shriek pierced through the sound of flapping Ar’ghul, only to be drowned in their frenzy once more.

What was that?

Thu’lain glanced at Tin’lo and noticed how his brows were furrowed.

He heard it, too.

Another impact hit the shelter, but didn’t peel away any branches this time, Thu’lain was tense and felt more vibrations travelling through the branches as Ar’ghul climbed on the tree. Trat’catha’s grip around his javelin tightened and he crouched; Thu’lain readied his dagger and prepared to pounce as well.

It landed on the roof.

The climbing steps of the Ar’ghul on their roof shook the branches as it made its way across, shaking loose twigs and leaves. Its clawed wing passed over the hole briefly, causing all of the elves to tense, ready to strike.

The moment never came. Instead, they heard the Ar’ghul take off once again. They couldn’t relax still, with their respective weapons raised. Anar’dea’s attention darted back and forth, seeking any sign of the beasts still lingering nearby.

Thu’lain’s heart remained calm and steady and his nerves were cool even while he remained alert. He would be ready to react if something were to happen.

The shelter shook violently and limbs cracked with the tremendous force of an Ar’ghul clumsily crashing through one of the walls, tumbling into the elves’ sanctuary. Tin’lo, Tu’lar, and Raj’ken leapt out of the way as Trat’catha snapped into place with electric speed, anchoring his javelin against the floor and pointed toward the falling foe.

Thu’lain twisted and swung his dagger, allowing it to bite into the Ar’ghul as the javelin pierced through its skull. The Ar’ghul twitched and flailed, even with the instant brain death. Its tail whipped back and forth, forcing the elves to dodge it. Thu’lain left his dagger in its body for a few seconds to let it drink blood, snatching it back up as soon as the flailing reduced to twitching.

The death of the Ar’ghul carried the smell of blood in the air and already the flock was starting to hone in on the carcass.

Raj’ken kicked the bottom of the shelter and the branches pulled away to reveal a large hole.

“We have to go now!” She ordered and leapt down through the opening.

“We should have made for the pass,” Tin’lo pointed out as he and Tu’lar dropped out of the shelter, followed by Trat’catha and then Anar’dea.

Thu’lain leapt out of the hole just as two Ar’ghul tore through the canopy and just as quickly started to tear into the carcass of their fallen. He grimaced at the brief sight, but quickly made his way to the rest of the group

“Look on the bright side!” Tu’lar yelled to the group as they dashed among the branches.

“What bright side?!” Tin’lo, and Raj’ken shouted in unison, making Tu’lar grin ear to ear.

“Never a dull moment!” He laughed and started to throw pouches into the air, hitting the trunks of trees high in the air and causing the powder within to burst into clouds. Thu’lain watched with curiosity as an Ar’ghul flew through the plume, causing it to start screaming and swerving in the air uncontrollably until it hit the trunk of a tree and went completely silent as it fell to the earth below.

More Cardin powder?

The scene repeated itself a few times in the next few moments as the screams of their kin drew more Ar’ghul to suicidally attack the powder clouds.

Why would anything be that aggressive?

Thu’lain dashed ahead to catch up; for the moment the Ar’ghul were occupied with the bodies of their dead and distracted by the clouds of powder, but when those distractions wore out he did not want to be anywhere near the feeding frenzy.

“We don’t have much time,” Thu’lain barked, pulling a fistful of throwing knives. “Be ready.”

“If we can find the pass, the rocky terrain can help us defend ourselves,” Trat’catha shouted, “no matter what, we can’t stop until then!”

Trat'catha caught up to Raj'ken and they began looking for any indications of the pass.

Tin’lo held the bow in his hand, his grip tight, and kept an arrow ready just in case. He looked up, half expecting to see an Ar’ghul descending to feast on him. Instead, he saw the flock overhead whirling through the air. The sight made him pull back his bowstring, ready to strike. Cold sweat rolled down his back.

The Ar’ghuls descended individually at first, and even then they were crashing against one another as they honed in on their prey, their black eyes locked solely on their targets and ignoring everything else.

There were three of the leather-winged creatures honing in on Tin’lo and he shot three well-placed arrows through their heads before focusing completely on the retreat again.

How many are there?

Tin’lo could see better than most, and he failed to see an end to the Ar’ghul soaring through the sky.

If they notice us all at the same time-

“Keep moving! I can see the cliff ahead!” Trat’catha ordered as he threw two javelins ahead from each hand, impaling two Ar’ghul that threatened to close in on them. Raj’ken and Anar’dea fired arrows at any of the stragglers coming too close.

“Tu’lar, how many more cardin pouches do you have?” Tin’lo dashed in unison with Tu’lar, doing his best to stay close.

“Not many, but enough for a sticky situation!” Tu’lar grinned as he wielded his hand axe and the glint in his eye told Tin’lo that he was looking forward to an Ar’ghul or two getting through.

“You’re totally mad,” Tin’lo chortled as he shared a smile with Tu’lar.

“Something’s following us.”

Thu’lain kept glancing up into the canopy and Tin’lo began to search the sky for it. His eyes widened at the sight of an Ar’ghul different from the others, or at least larger. Unlike the others, it seemed to stare down on them with an awareness.

An overseer.

A warped warbling rang through the air, the creature beckoning to its kind spread through the area around it.

Tin’lo’s neck stiffened as the Ar’ghuls immediately began to converge on the overseer above; he prepared a fistfull of arrows and took a deep breath to isolate the tension and nervousness. He settled into a single-minded trance, focused only on survival.

“Get ready, they are going to swarm us,” Tin’lo spoke calmly and watched with a detached look in his eyes as the flock began to dive for them.

“I love this part!” Tu’lar laughed and grabbed two extra quivers of arrows from his backpack and held them in his hand. He laughed harder at the quizzical look Raj’ken shot back.

Oh, you’ll see.

Tin’lo looked ahead, memorizing everything in a flash before turning around and starting to leap backwards through the branches. As soon as the Ar’ghul were in range, he lifted his bow and fistful of arrows and let them loose one at a time in a flurry of movement. In two seconds, he had unleashed ten arrows, downing just as many Ar’ghul. Tin’lo continued leaping backwards, with Tu’lar keeping pace and passing him a full quiver of arrows. He held the quiver and bow in the same hand and a fistful of arrows from his own quiver in his firing hand. Tu’lar’s smiling face went unnoticed by Tin’lo.

The sound of Tin’lo’s bow went off so quickly it sounded as if someone was strumming on some single-string instrument; in moments, he emptied not only his own quiver, but the one in his hand. He breathed heavily and his pupils were so dilated that his eyes appeared to be completely black. He hit every shot he took, and caught the next quiver that Tu’lar tossed him, his roaring laughter barely piercing Tin’lo’s trance.

Even before the Ar’ghul’s corpses hit the ground, Tin’lo fired off another volley, emptying over twenty arrows in seconds. His fingers bled as he caught the bowstring before it settled, pushing the weapon to its absolute limits.

Even with the raining carcasses, there was still a flock of monstrosities raining down on them, and Tin’lo was out of arrows.

“A canyon!!” Trat’catha hollered back in joy and eagerly dashed ahead, redoubling his zeal as he tore through the Ar’ghul that got too close.

Tin’lo’s trance faded out, his lungs burning and the ripped muscles in his arms screaming in pain even as they regenerated. He started to hear a strange sound at his side and looked to see Tu’lar guffawing, so red in the face it looked like he couldn’t breath.

“I have no idea how -” Tu’lar wheezed, “ - you can do that -” He tried to catch a breath. “- but I love it!” Tin’lo rolled his eyes.

Why do I like you again?

Tin’lo turned around as he reached the end of the trail he’d memorized and tried to ignore the growing pounding in his head. He heard the flock storming down from above, but he’d bought some time. Soon they’d be able to get into the canyon, and hopefully shelter.

A branch snapped somewhere below Tin’lo and he twisted reflexively to grab for an arrow from the empty quiver.

Oh no.

Searing agony ripped through his arm and he was carried into the air. He let out a scream of pain and saw the ringed maw of an Ar’ghul clamped onto his bow arm, piercing through to the bone. The beast was flying straight up into the rest of the flock.

This cannot be how I die.

“Tin!” Tu’lar screamed as he threw his axe, slamming deep into the Ar’ghul and causing it to go suddenly limp. Tin’lo pulled and pushed, but the jaws wouldn’t disengage, the unwieldy weight of the Ar’ghul’s body preventing him from trying to grab onto a branch as he fell quickly to the ground. He saw more Ar’ghul down below, flying beneath the elves and ready to feast on anything that fell to them.

Tin’lo moved without thinking and snatched the axe from the leathery flesh of the Ar’ghul and, with a desperate swing, he tried to break the Ar’ghul’s teeth. He broke some of the teeth, but the maw was still tight on his arm and the ravenous flock was too close now.

He hacked once more, but this time he cleaved his own elbow and severed the limb and the Ar’ghul from his body, roaring in pain and desperately trying to grapple the next branch he came close to, nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. His vision blurred for a moment and he felt two strong hands pull him up and over broad shoulders.

“I’ve got you Tin! Good job!” Tu’lar shouted, and, while he tried to hide his nervousness behind boisterousness, Tin’lo knew that he was worried.

“It was. . . nothing special,” Tin’lo squeezed out weakly as the blood flowed quickly from his wound. The desire to fade into unconsciousness battled with his need to know where the Ar’ghul were coming from next.

Tu’lar was silent as he caught up to the others. The flock was still descending, and the canyon was still just out of reach. They’d have to fight to make it there; the fliers were going to catch up to them.

Tin’lo heard the earth-shaking sound of trees snapping in two and could almost feel the crack of the sound waves traveling through the air. It wasn’t alone, either, and soon it sounded like many bombs going off at once as the trees behind them were snapped almost all at once. Tin’lo fearfully looked behind them to see the trees falling toward them, and a massive many-eyed flying beast decimating the forest as it flew straight to the heart of the Ar’ghul flock.

Eclipse.