"Run—RUN!" he screamed.
The company broke at once, fleeing as a horde of orcs and wargs poured down the slope behind them.
Mallory's wall of vines held for a heartbeat—thick coils twisting over one another—but it only slowed the advance.
The orcs clawed at it, scrambling to climb, while several wargs tore through faster, bursting past the barrier.
One lunged straight for Bilbo.
He spun just in time, drawing Sting and driving it forward. The blade pierced the warg's skull. It collapsed at his feet.
No one stopped.
Weapons flashed as the company fought while running, striking at anything that came too close.
"A dead end!" Mallory cried as they reached the cliff's edge.
"Use the trees—up, quickly!" Gandalf ordered.
They scattered, scrambling up trunks and branches as snapping jaws leapt beneath them.
The trees swayed violently under the weight and impact of the pursuing wargs.
At the edge of the cliff, Gandalf raised his staff toward a lone butterfly. It fluttered close. He murmured to it softly before releasing it back into the air.
Below, the pale orc approached.
Thorin's breath caught. His eyes widened in recognition.
"Azog."
Azog grinned, speaking in the Black Speech as he rested his hooked hand against his mount.
"Do you smell it?" he said.
"The scent of fear… I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin, son of Thráin."
He lifted his weapon and pointed.
"That one is mine. Kill the others!"
The dwarves shouted as the wargs surged again, clawing up the trees.
Mallory raised her hand.
Vines erupted from the ground, coiling around the wargs' legs and yanking them down.
Azog's eyes narrowed.
"The horned woman… dressed in black," he muttered.
"Bring her alive."
The trees shuddered violently.
Branches snapped. One trunk gave way, crashing into another—then another—until they toppled like falling dominoes.
The company leapt desperately from tree to tree, each landing more precarious than the last, until only one remained.
Azog laughed.
Mallory's jaw tightened.
"How dare you think I'm an easy pray," she said, voice shaking with fury.
She raised her staff.
Lightning tore down from the sky.
Azog's expression darkened as he stepped back on instinct, barely avoiding the strike.
He snarled.
Mallory drove her staff downward. Emerald fire burst from its tip, racing across the ground in a spreading blaze. The wargs recoiled, snarling as the flames forced them back.
Azog hesitated.
He hadn't expected another like the wizard—someone stronger, unrestrained.
Gandalf's power was bound by limits here.
Mallory's was not.
Azog roared in fury.
Above, the last tree groaned.
—CREAK—
Its roots tore free. The trunk tipped over the cliff.
The company clung desperately as they fell. Some caught branches—others grabbed each other.
Bilbo slipped.
Mallory thrust her staff toward him.
"Bilbo—hold on!"
He caught it, dangling.
Thorin's gaze locked onto Azog, burning with rage.
With Orcrist in hand, he charged.
Azog met him head-on.
Before Thorin could strike, Azog's weapon slammed into him, sending him crashing to the ground.
Azog turned and charged again, raising his weapon for the killing blow.
Mallory couldn't move—her grip locked on Bilbo.
Then—
A sharp cry split the air.
Rowan dove from above, claws outstretched.
Azog reacted instantly. His weapon swung upward—
CRACK.
The blow struck midair. Rowan's body jerked violently before he was flung aside, crashing to the ground below.
"ROWAN!" Mallory screamed.
Her face twisted with fury.
"YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!"
Thorin tried to rise—only to be struck down again. He fell, unmoving.
Below, two dwarves lost their grip—
—but before they could fall, massive talons swept in and seized them midair.
Gandalf's expression shifted.
Relief.
The sky filled with the beating of enormous wings.
Great eagles descended with piercing cries, snatching wargs from the ground and hurling them aside.
Azog's jaw tightened.
One by one, the company was lifted from the falling tree, carried into the air and dropped safely onto the eagles' backs.
Gandalf climbed aboard, followed by Mallory and Bilbo.
"Wait—we can't leave Rowan!" Mallory cried.
Gandalf's face darkened. "I'm afraid it's too late."
Mallory bit her lip, helpless—
Then—
(Achievement unlocked: Let's Fly)
Level: 35
conditions met.
Reward: Wings
Her expression didn't change.
"Mal?" Bilbo called.
Without hesitation, she stepped off the eagle's back.
"MALLORY!" Bilbo shouted.
Wings burst from her back—dark and powerful—as she plunged downward, then surged forward through the air toward the cliff.
Toward Azog.
Gandalf and Bilbo stared, stunned.
Below, Azog looked up mid-roar as a horned figure in black descended from the sky.
Before he could react—Purple lightning split the heavens.
He leapt aside just in time.
The orcs around him weren't so lucky.
The strike tore through their ranks.
Azog steadied himself, breathing hard.
Then he looked up again.
And froze.
The figure hovered above him.
His eyes widened.
Mallory dropped from the sky and landed inches before the pale orc.
Azog snarled, baring his teeth.
The remaining orcs rushed her in a frenzy.
Mallory didn't move.
She raised a hand.
The ground split.
Vines erupted upward, lashing out and coiling around the charging orcs, yanking them off their feet mid-stride. They struggled—howling, clawing—
Mallory slowly brought her fingers together.
The vines tightened.
A sickening crunch echoed across the cliffside.
Then silence.
Dark blood seeped between the writhing coils before dripping onto the scorched earth.
Azog's jaw clenched.
Mallory's gaze locked onto him—cold, unblinking, filled with something far more dangerous than anger.
Bloodlust.
Azog moved without another thought. He swung onto his warg and turned to flee—
—but the earth betrayed him.
Vines tore through the ground ahead, twisting into a wall that blocked his escape.
Mallory's hand shifted, fingers weaving through the air.
The vines obeyed.
They surged forward, coiling around Azog and his mount, binding them in place. The warg snarled and thrashed, but the grip only tightened.
Azog grunted, muscles straining as he tried to break free.
Mallory walked toward him.
Each step was slow. Deliberate.
Her wings dragged slightly behind her, brushing over the charred ground.
The hem of her dark robes whispered against the ash.
She stopped just before him.
For the first time—
Azog felt it.
Fear.
His breathing grew heavier, anger flashing behind his eyes as he struggled against the vines—but they held firm.
Mallory said nothing.
She simply raised her staff.
Purple lightning gathered at its tip, crackling violently.
Azog's eyes widened.
The staff came down.
The strike hit true.
Lightning tore through him in a blinding flash—his scream ripped from his throat as the energy coursed through his body, burning, searing—
Then silence.
Azog collapsed.
Smoke curled from his charred form as it hit the ground, unmoving.