A'TREAL MOVED SILENTLY THROUGH THE GLOOM beneath the autumnal trees. Just ahead a small group of Elves crouched at the edge of a clearing. To others, they would have been all but invisible among the shadows but with his heightened senses, each body glowed brightly in the darkness.

The Daemon had been tracking them for a while now, hoping they would lead him to the hidden portal that led into their world. A'treal had so far avoided several of these patrols as they crisscrossed the woodlands urgently searching for him.

He stayed low, concealed in a thicket of tangled brambles. Strange patterns writhed across his armoured skin blending him in with the surrounding vegetation. Soon, he hoped, this group would return to the portal and unwittingly reveal its location.

He glanced upwards to where a small patch of sky showed through a break in the trees. Stars glimmered brightly on its dark surface and he wondered briefly if any of his race still survived out in the cold depths of space. He found it incomprehensible others had not survived the destruction and that even now somewhere out there they had forged a new powerful empire.

Another group of Elves joined the first, A'treal watched as they whispered anxiously and gestured impatiently among themselves. One who appeared to be in charge pointed to an overgrown trail on the far side of the clearing. The group set off once more and soon vanished into the shadowy undergrowth.

He continued to observe the Elves while recalling the histories of his race that were stored in the libraries deep within The Crypt. From their Homeworld they spread out across the galaxy, conquering planet after planet, adding them to their vast star-spanning empire. But even that was not enough for the Magus Lords. Each of the twelve clans craved power and soon began to fight among themselves. He remembered stories of the endless wars that were waged between the clans of the Magus. Harrowing stories of The Dark Fall Crusades, that had devastated their worlds and rendered them uninhabitable. And how the last of the Magus priests used their power to create the huge stone ships that were to carry the survivors away from the dying planets. 

They awoke on this world only to find it already populated. So began a prolonged war for control of the planet. But the rigours of space travel and the impact of the crash decimated their numbers and in the end, it proved a futile war. They were forced back into their underground city and sealed away with magic.

Now he was free of the confines of that prison. All that remained was for him to break through the barrier into the Elven lands. He could then discover the source of the magic and find a way to counteract it.

Finally, the Daemon thought as the Elves began to move off through the trees. A'treal hated the waiting. He stood and stretched the kinks from his muscles. He was a warrior; he longed to tear into the Elves and flay the flesh from their bones, feel their blood running over his jaws. But he had steeled himself against the rising anger. The killing would come later. This called for patience, something he had little of. 

He followed from afar, keeping to the shadows. The Elves were expert hunters and trackers and he had been lucky so far. His skin rippled, changing colour and appearance as he moved through the trees. The smell of Elf was stronger now, he could almost taste it. Poison dripped from between his jagged teeth in anticipation. He could not afford to be caught now, not this close to his destination.

Kelan Shea clapped the tall skinny Elf walking alongside him, on the back. 'See, Lael,' he said. 'I told you there was nothing to worry about. There probably never was. The Council got their leggings in a bunch over nothing.'

'But they told us a Daemon was out here killing Elves,' Lael Helmon replied. 'Why would they lie to us?'

Kelan let out a booming laugh and shook his head. Lael was not the sharpest Elf in the forest. But he was the best friend anyone could ask for. They were hive brothers and did everything together, schooling, training, joining the army and best of all drinking and making merry.

'It is to distract us; you have seen for yourself the trouble Ellyonia as suffered since the war. There is no Daemon. They think that giving us something to do will take our minds off of what really ails the Kingdom.'

'And what might that be?' Lael asked.

Kelan glanced sideways at his friend and wondered if Lael would have made it through life without him. 'Have you not been paying attention? It has been the talk of the barracks and taverns since the war ended.'

'Now you know I don't pay much attention to what others are saying,' Lael replied glumly. 

Kelan shook his head. 'Never mind my friend... Never mind.

He grabbed at Lael's tunic sleeve and lengthened his stride.

'Come on, we are falling behind, Captain Rundil will have our hides for such sloppiness.  I hear they have a new delivery of strong Stinkrot Gnome ale at The Hunter and Goblet. The last one to the tavern buys the first round.'

The Daemon crouched, concealed in a ragged patch of scrub grass on the side of the pathway. Although he could rely on the camouflage patterns that marked his skin, he saw no reason to chance being seen.

If he was to gain access to the Elven lands he would have to time his attack just right.

He watched the tall thin and the smaller stouter Elf at the rear of the group. They lagged behind the others, talking and laughing, they would be perfect for what he had planned.

 A'treal followed them, the heat from each Elf body glowing as they moved through the trees in front of him. Ahead two huge trees grew on either side of the path. Their interlocking branches forming an archway high above.

 He watched the Elves approach them. Suddenly the glow from the first elf disappeared. For a moment he was confused, then the second and third glow winked out and he realized...

The portal...

No longer caring if he was discovered, A'treal raced towards the line of Elves. As he moved his armoured form shifted, the plates on his head and shoulders grew thicker. Thorn-like projections bristled along his forelegs and the muscles in his haunches bunched and corded propelling him forward in great leaps.   

A'treal launched himself at the last two Elves just as they reached the portal. He saw one, the taller of the two, start to turn as if sensing something. A look of shock crossed the Elf's features, and he attempted to draw his blade. At the last moment, he cried out, trying to push the smaller Elf out of harm's way. But it was too late.

A'treal smashed into the two Elves, he felt bones crunch as his jaws closed around the taller one. An overwhelming desire to bite down, to taste the helpless creature's blood swept over him.

No, not yet, he chided himself. I have need of you for a few more moments.

Kelan Shea heard Lael's warning cry and swung around. His eyes widened in abject terror as he saw the hideous creature and watched it snatch his friend up in its cruel jaws. He tried to throw himself sideways, but the vicious spikes that sprouted from the Daemon things armoured body ripped into his skin and clothing. He cried out in pain, feeling himself being dragged along.

Then they hit the barrier. 

For a moment the magic held; as if trying to decide whether to let the Elf in or keep the Daemon out. But the moment's hesitation was all the creature needed, he heard it scream as muscles bunching and claws scrabbling for purchase it forced its way through. 

Kelan was thrown clear as the creature landed in the clearing on the other side of the portal. He grimaced as his skin tore free of the spikes. Rolling he climbed unsteadily to his feet. His clothes were torn and blood dripped from his various wounds but he ignored them and reached for his blade. 

It was early evening in Ellyonia, and the last of the day's sunshine still flooded the glade. The other Elves in his party had recovered from the shock of the Daemon forcing its way through the magical barrier. Even now Captain Rundil was leading an attack to try and prevent its escape. Kelan looked around desperately searching for Lael. He stopped, a look of horror crossed his face. The creature let the broken body of his friend swing from one clawed hand like some horrific trophy. At first, he thought Lael was dead but then the Elf let out a gasped in pain and raised his head slightly. 

The armoured Daemon lifted his prize higher and looked from it to the other Elves that surrounded him. 

A dark whispering invaded their minds.

You have grown weak since our races last fought. Once I have freed my brethren from their prison, we will take our revenge.

Kelan Shea moved forward thinking there was some way he could wrest his friend from the creature's grip. It dangled Lael's body in front of him. The Daemon lowered its horned head and let out a terrible gurgling sound. 

I believe this belongs to you. 

Lael opened his eyes; Kelan could see the unbearable pain etched in them. But his friend tried to smile. Blood stained his teeth and ran down his chin.

'I thought you said there was no Daemon,' Lael croaked.

Then the creature's spiked tail exploded from his chest. 

Kelan stood stunned for a moment as Lael's bloody broken body dropped at his feet. Then anger exploded through his body and he hurled himself at the murderous thing in front of him. He ducked as it grabbed for him but a swing of its tail batted him away. He gasped, feeling his ribs give way, but somehow managed to roll and clamber back to his feet. All around him screams and shouts rose from the other Elves. Several already lay dead and dying. Even as he watched, the creature raised an armoured forearm and fired a barrage of the thorny projections into a group of charging warriors.

Captain Rundil stood his ground firing arrow after arrow at the beast but even his powerful Elven bow was of little use against its steel-like skin. Kelan clutched his injured side and leapt towards the monstrous creature. Even as he did so he saw the Captain go down in a welter of blood.

Kelan suddenly pulled up. He felt unsteady on his feet. He tried to lift his sword but all the strength had left his arm. Looking around he found he was the last one standing, possibly the last one alive. He wanted revenge, but with his injuries, he could not hope to carry it out. Someone needed to warn the city that the Daemon had gained entry to the Kingdom. 

He turned to flee; if he could make the trees...

A'treal sensed what the Elf was about to do. He would not make it of course; his injuries were too serious. He was dying; a rib bone that severed an artery was testament to that. The Daemon moved swiftly to intercept the limping Elf. Grasping his body, he lifted him and fixed the Elf with his blood red eyes.

Leaving so soon little Elf. I have not yet had the chance to thank you and your friend.     

The Elf coughed, spraying blood. 'Thank us? For what?'

Granting me entry to your Kingdom and the beginning of your doom. 

He probed deeper, searching...

Ha, there it was, a snippet of information overheard in one of their drinking houses. It seemed that they were organizing a search for a mysterious artifact. One that had been hidden away long ago.

With a twist of his clawed hands, he tore the Elf apart and dropped the bloodied remains on the floor.

He would seek out more information on this artifact and the quest to find it. He felt that it was tied in with his hunt... 

A'treal stood for a moment surveying his work. Then satisfied no one was left alive he moved off into the trees.