"My lord Sauron," the Nazgûl hissed, bowing low, "I bring news."
Before him, flame gathered—coiling, shaping—until the great Eye burned into being.
"Speak," Sauron breathed, his voice like heat through iron.
The Nazgûl lowered his head further. "Azog is dead… slain by a horned woman wielding dark magic."
Silence followed.
Then—
A flicker.
Not of doubt.
Of interest.
Far away, something stirred within Sauron's awareness—faint, distant… but unmistakable.
A presence.
A power.
And beneath it—
A whisper of the Ring.
His gaze burned brighter.
"Find her," he said at last, quiet and terrible.
————
Gandalf led the company onward at a steady pace, the road to Erebor stretching long before them.
It had not been long since Azog's death, yet the weight that had once followed them seemed lighter.
The dwarves walked with a newfound ease, their steps no longer shadowed by the fear of their greatest enemy.
And more than once—
Their eyes drifted to Mallory.
Her wings.
Even now, they stole glances—some in awe, some in unease, others in quiet respect.
She had done what none of them could.
Bilbo, however, stayed close at her side, as he always did—his acceptance simple, unquestioning.
Mallory barely noticed any of it.
Her thoughts were elsewhere.
Stupid curse…
Her fingers tightened into a fist as she walked.
After their failed attempt, she had forced herself to rely only on light-based magic. No darkness. Not even a trace.
She hadn't slept.
Not truly.
Every chance she had, she tried again—
healing, cleansing, purifying—
Anything.
Nothing worked.
Rowan, perched on her shoulder, shifted closer. He brushed his head gently against her cheek.
Mallory blinked, then smiled faintly despite herself.
"Thanks…" she murmured under her breath.
Then—
She stopped.
A chill ran through her.
Her eyes narrowed.
Something was wrong.
Her staff gave a faint glow, reacting to something unseen.
She turned sharply, scanning the trees.
Nothing.
But the feeling remained.
Watching.
Waiting.
"Are you alright, Mal?".Bilbo asked, tugging lightly at her sleeve.
Mallory glanced at him, then toward the treeline again.
"…I feel like I'm being watched."
Bilbo looked around uneasily.
Then—
ROAR!
The forest shook.
The company flinched as one, turning toward the sound.
From between the trees, a massive black bear emerged—its size unnatural, its presence overwhelming.
It growled low, eyes locked onto them.
"Run!" Gandalf shouted. "Follow me!"
The company broke into a sprint.
Behind them, the bear charged—tearing through trees as if they were twigs, its thunderous steps shaking the ground.
It was fast.
Too fast.
It gained on them in moments.
Mallory turned mid-run, raising her hands.
Light shimmered—
Vines burst from the earth, coiling around
the beast, slowing it—
For a second.
Just a second.
The bear roared, ripping free. One massive paw lashed out—
Mallory raised her wings—
CRACK!
The impact hurled her into a tree.
"AGH!"
She hit hard, sliding to the ground as her wing sagged unnaturally, feathers brushing the dirt.
"Mal!" Bilbo shouted, doubling back without thinking.
He grabbed her arm, helping her up.
"Come on!"
They ran.
Branches whipped past them as the dwarves pushed forward, breath ragged, feet pounding against uneven ground.
Through the trees—
A cottage.
"Inside!" Gandalf called.
They didn't hesitate.
The bear roared again, closer now.
Bombur, surprisingly, surged ahead, barreling forward with unexpected speed.
The others stared in disbelief even as they ran.
Mallory gritted her teeth, struggling to keep pace—her wings heavy, one dragging slightly.
They reached the door.
Fists pounded against it.
"Open it quickly!" Thorin barked.
Behind them—
The bear was almost upon them.
Mallory raised her staff.
Golden light flared.
Vines tore from the earth once more, forming a barrier between them and the beast.
It slammed into it—clawing, tearing, splintering the living wall.
The door creaked open—
"Inside!"
They stumbled in, shoving past one another as they forced the door shut.
A massive paw forced its way through the gap—
The dwarves threw their weight against it, grunting with effort.
Bilbo, trembling, drew Sting.
Mallory lifted her hand—Vines burst through the wooden floor, coiling tightly around the door, sealing it shut.
The bear snarled outside.
Then—
Silence.
The company staggered back, breathing hard.
"What in Durin's name was that?" Dwalin demanded, turning to Gandalf.
Mallory winced, her injured wing shifting painfully with a faint crack.
"Gandalf…" she muttered, "you wouldn't happen to know whose house this is?"
Gandalf allowed himself a small smile.
"This house," he said calmly, removing his hat, "belongs to the creature outside."
Silence fell.
Every dwarf turned slowly toward the door.
"…What?" Bofur muttered under his breath.
Gandalf walked further inside as if nothing were amiss.
"Now then," he said lightly, "make yourselves comfortable. We have a long night ahead."
Mallory dropped to one knee, unable to hold herself up any longer.
Bilbo rushed to her side, sheathing Sting.
"Are you alright, Mal?"
She forced a small grin. "Just… fractured wings. No big deal. I'll fix it."
Even as she said it, the strain showed.
Balin stepped forward, glancing around.
"…Where is the bird?"
For a brief moment—
No one answered.
Then—
CAW!
Heads snapped upward.
From the wooden beams above, Rowan spread his wings and dropped down, landing lightly despite his earlier injuries.
A wave of relief passed through the group.
Mallory let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Moonlight filtered through the cracks of the cottage, casting pale silver across the room.
The dwarves lay scattered on hay bales, deep in sleep—soft snores rising and falling in uneven chorus. Even Gandalf rested, his staff within reach, his breathing slow and steady.
Mallory sat apart in the corner.
Her wings were half-spread, trembling faintly as she held her hands just above them.
A soft glow of healing magic pulsed from her palms, bathing the fractured feathers in warm light.
Slowly—
The cracks mended.
The pain eased.
She exhaled, tension slipping from her shoulders.
"…That ought to do it."
Her gaze drifted across the room.
To the dwarves.
To Gandalf.
To Bilbo, curled not far from her, fast asleep.
A small smile touched her lips—
Then faded.
A faint shimmer appeared before her.
Name: Mallory Anderson
Age: 30
Race: Dark Fae
Magic: Light / Dark
Level: 35
HP: 950 / 950
MP: 1310 / 1310
(Host has been corrupted: 20%) — Bound
Cannot be removed.
Her chest tightened.
Her fingers curled slightly.
What happens when it reaches 100…?
Would she still be herself?
Or something else entirely?
Something that might hurt them—
The very people sleeping only a few feet away.
A soft chime broke her thoughts.
TING~
(Transformation: New Forms Unlocked)
• Horse Form — Lv. 20 (MP Cost: 20)
• Bear Form — Lv. 35 (MP Cost: 30)
Mallory blinked.
"…So that's from the bear, not a bad achievement if I say so myself" she muttered quietly, almost amused.
Almost.
Her gaze lifted.
Rowan perched above on the wooden beams, feathers slightly ruffled, fast asleep despite everything.
"…Lucky you," she whispered faintly.
"Can't sleep?"
Mallory flinched.
She turned.
Bilbo had stirred, propping himself up slightly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
She hesitated—then shook her head.
"No."
Bilbo shifted closer, sitting beside her.
"Me neither," he admitted with a small, sheepish smile. "Hard to believe, really… all of this."
He glanced around the dim room.
"Feels like just yesterday I found you in the forest… wrapped up in vines."
Mallory let out a quiet breath.
"You still remember that?"
Bilbo nodded. "Hard to forget."
She gave an awkward little smile, looking away.
"…Yeah."
Silence settled between them—but this time, it wasn't heavy.
Then—
"Bilbo."
He looked at her immediately, something in her tone pulling his full attention.
"Yes?"
Mallory's expression changed.
Serious.
Her hands tightened slightly in her lap.
"Promise me," she said, her voice quieter now, "if I ever… lose myself—my humanity…"
She swallowed.
"You won't hesitate to destroy me."
Bilbo froze.
The color drained from his face.
"Mallory…" he said softly, almost pleading, "don't say that."
She didn't look away.
But he did.
Just for a second.
Then he straightened, meeting her gaze again—firmer this time.
"No."
The word was quiet.
But resolute.
"I won't promise that."
Mallory's brows furrowed slightly—
"Because I won't do it," Bilbo continued.
"You're my friend."
His voice shook—but he didn't stop.
"You saved me. Helped me. Again and again." He took a breath. "So I'll do the same for you."
A small, determined smile formed.
"I promise I'll protect you. And if something's wrong—then we'll fix it. Together."
"You are the best to have happened to me."
Silence.
Mallory stared at him.
The weight in her chest shifted—
Not gone.
But lighter.
"…You are quite stubborn," she muttered.
Bilbo huffed softly. "I've been told that."
He lay back down, pulling his coat closer.
"Get some rest, Mal," he added, already half-asleep again. "You look like you need it more than I do…"
Within moments, his breathing evened out.
Mallory remained where she was.
Her gaze lowered to her hands.
A faint shimmer of light flickered across her fingers.