RISE OF EROS

Back to the moment after the battle. The sky was tinted a leaden grey as the hooded men retreated with military precision after the skirmish with Syalin's warriors.

Despite the casualties suffered and the hostile terrain the ice elves dominated, the attackers moved with relentless discipline. Harpies fluttered restlessly around them, ready to carry the treasures and wounded to a prearranged destination.

"All set?" a hooded figure asked, his voice deep, as he oversaw the operation. "Yes, Master. The loads are secured, and the trails have been altered as planned," one of his subordinates replied.

The Master nodded in approval. The hooded men had laid out an elaborate escape plan before launching the attack on the ice elf tribe. This was no mere retreat; this was a masterpiece of disinformation.

The harpies, winged creatures with lithe bodies and dull-feathered wings that reflected the colors of ice and rock, carried dark metal chests and carefully wrapped packages.

Some carried wounded members, while others carried what appeared to be loot. On the ground, the hooded men laid a false trail, deliberately directing the clues toward the Hills of Eternal Snow, a steep and treacherous terrain where few dared to venture.

"Remember," the Master said, looking at his subordinates and adding, "Leave marks on the trees and make sure the tracks lead into the hills. If the elves follow us, they will be chasing shadows."

Meanwhile, a younger hooded man checked his equipment nervously. His hands shook slightly as he secured a metal badge, a symbol of his loyalty to the order, that hung from his belt. Unwittingly, the hasty movement caused the insignia to fall off and into the thick snow.

"Come on, quick!" another member of the group shouted, and the young man had no time to notice his mistake. The icy wind soon partially covered the lost object. As the hooded figures finished their aerial retreat, the harpies ascended with a coordinated effort.

Their wings beat hard, raising gusts of snow that further covered the tracks the hooded figures had left behind. From the air, the creatures headed southwest but flew in wide circles to confuse any observers on the ground.

The remaining group of hooded figures dispersed into small platoons, each taking different routes before disappearing into the shadows of the frozen landscape.

Their task was to ensure that no clues led to the order's true targets. From the ground, the Master watched the harpies disappear over the horizon. "Perfect," he muttered to himself. The ice elves might be formidable, but their obsession with clues and trails would lead them into a trap.

Months ago, before the Purgatory organization launched its operations in the frozen lands, they had found a nest of harpies in the demon realm—not just Ayla's clan, but several clans.

The creatures, wild and ferocious, defended their territory fiercely, but the members of Purgatory were no ordinary invaders. Using a dark ritual of black magic, they managed to subdue the harpies and turn them into instruments of their will.

The ritual required a complex sacrifice: the blood of an innocent being, runes carved in black stone, and a crystal charged with the essence of a fallen god. This crystal, a shard Purgatory had discovered in his search, emitted a corrupting power that could subdue even the most untamed creatures.@@novelbin@@

In the center of the ritual circle, a hooded old man had recited chants in a forgotten language while the crystal glowed with a sickly purple light. The harpies, trapped in cages of enchanted metal, screeched and struggled, but one by one, their eyes lost the gleam of independence, replaced by a dull, unnatural glow.

"They serve us now," the old man had declared, watching the creatures kneel before him. Dark magic had corrupted their souls, turning them into obedient beasts.

Since then, the harpies have become an indispensable tool for the organization. Able to fly great distances and carry considerable weight, they were ideal for transporting supplies and confusing their enemies.

The attack on the ice elves was not an isolated act. It was part of a larger plan to divert the attention of the powers of the continent while the organization searched for the remaining fragments of the fallen god.

These fragments, scattered across the world, contained unimaginable power that Purgatory believed could bring their deity back to life. In each region, the hooded figures had launched calculated attacks on vulnerable communities.

Tribe after tribe, village after village, were brutally attacked. The chaos that ensued forced local forces to focus on their own defense, leaving Purgatory free to explore ancient sites and gather information about the fragments.

"As long as you continue to view our attacks as random acts, our true mission will remain hidden," the Master had said in a secret meeting before the attack on the ice elves.

Hours later, Syalin and her group of elite warriors arrived at the place where the hooded figures had disappeared. The ground was marked with fresh footprints, some human, others from unknown creatures.

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"This doesn't make sense," one of the warriors commented, leaning down to examine the marks and adding, "It seems they headed toward the Hills of Eternal Snow, but something doesn't add up."

Syalin knelt beside the warrior, her eyes scanning every detail carefully. She was a veteran of countless engagements in the frozen wastes, and her intuition rarely failed. "True," she replied, her eyes narrowing. "The tracks are too obvious. If they were trying to hide, they would have used a less detectable method. This seems like a deliberate distraction."

Another warrior, a woman named Kaelith, looked up at the horizon where the hills met. "What do they gain by taking us there?" she asked deeply. Syalin didn't answer right away. Instead, she began to slowly walk around the area, looking for anything that might have gone unnoticed. It was then that she saw a flash of silver beneath a layer of loose snow.

She bent down and picked up the item. It was a metal badge with an intricate design: a circle surrounded by unknown runic symbols and a central figure that looked like a falcon with outstretched wings.

"What is this?" Kaelith asked, coming closer. "It looks like an identifying mark," Syalin replied, turning the object between her fingers, and added, "But it doesn't belong to any known tribe. This is something completely new."

The warriors gathered around Syalin, studying the insignia with fascination and concern. "Do you think they left it there on purpose?" asked one of the younger members of the group. "I don't think so," Syalin replied, and continued, "This looks like an oversight, and if so, it could be our best lead." They then visited the Eversnow Hills and found another similar one.