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Blue fire exploded from the torch and engulfed the wolf in flames. Its face began to melt before his eyes as it shrieked and flailed in pain. Almost instantly the beast jumped off of Balamor and fell to the ground. Twisting and thrashing wildly as the fire whipped around its body. It's horrific screams faded and the remaining wolves backed away at the vicious sight, but Awkid was too quick. He thrusted his polearm into another before dragging it to the ground and finishing it with a final blow. Balamor layed on his back with the torch still burning bright. A blistering cold wave flowed from his gut to the tips his fingers before his lungs released a cloud of frigid air. Awkid lifted the young Wisebeard to his feet and took the torch from his hand. He waved it at the few wolves that were left. They barked madly while shying away from the blue flames. Balamor watched as the fiery blaze devoured the wolf only inches away. His robes were now covered with a thick muck and burns blotted his arms and face.

“Run Balamor! Run now!” Awkid yelled as he swung the torch with his left hand.

The hobbit looked behind him and quickly grabbed his dagger. They both moved backwards through the forest but the wolves would not relent; snapping their tar filled jaws at the dwarf and yelping between foul coughs. Balamor looked ahead but the next marker was nowhere to be seen. He reached into his bag and shuffled through his relics for his square stone rune, a triangle of three divots assured him of his choice. Removing it from his pack he began to sprint through the dying woods. The Tarr Wolves jumped at Awkid but he batted one away with the torch, igniting it in fiery blast of blue flames. Their cries racketed through the forest as he took off towards Balamor. The young hobbit held the square rune in his left hand, battling with the idea of using it again. The consequences of performing magic and the toll it took on his body, the uncertainty of it all only worsened when running from wolves. The ground ached his bones as he trampled through brittle brush and over fallen branches. He glanced back at Awkid and the two wolves charging behind them. Risks must be taken, he thought as he clutched the rune in hand and began to speak the mysterious words he barely knew.

“Ehn Vis Payr!”

Surging through his body a powerful energy overcame his mind in an instant, filling his eyes with pale green light. His vision turned foggy and out of sync with his steps as he struggled to run faster. The woods were dark and strangely quiet, the fresh smell of rain suddenly filled the air around him. Balamor tried to keep pace with the ground ahead as thick green trees began to whip by faster with each stride. He knew this was someone else — someone else’s eyes — but he tried to fight it as he felt himself tumble and his vision flashed before him. From behind he could hear Awkid yelling along with the barking of Tarr Wolves. Reality returned in a snap as Balamor was crawling to his feet.

The End

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