A stale breeze carrying the scent of old parchment and mildew wafted through the worn leather curtains as Elian entered Dean Thorne's office. Dust motes danced in the flickering torchlight, momentarily catching on the silver insignia of his cloak.
Dean Thorne, a man weathered by years of administrative burdens, sat behind a cluttered oak desk. His gaze, usually sharp and discerning, held a flicker of worry as he met Elian's. "Ah, Elian, Res. Come in, come in." He gestured towards two rickety chairs across from his desk, their creaks adding to the already tense atmosphere.
"News from Veridan Haven," the Dean began, his voice a low rumble. "Not good news, I'm afraid." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the worn leather of his desk. "Our scouts stumbled upon whispers - rumors of a hidden facility, a place reeking of dark magic."
Elian's usual stoicism faltered for a fleeting moment. A hidden facility practicing dark magic within the kingdom's borders? It was an unsettling prospect. Res, however, remained impassive, her face a mask of professionalism.
"We sent a team to investigate," the Dean continued, his voice heavy with concern. "Experienced mages, all of them. But they haven't returned. No word, no signal."
A cold dread settled in Elian's stomach. Mages, especially a seasoned team, wouldn't vanish without a trace. This facility held something far more sinister than whispered rumors.
"That's why I'm calling on you two," Dean Thorne said, his gaze shifting between them. "You're our best shot. Infiltrate the facility, locate any survivors, and shut it down."
The weight of the Dean's words settled on their shoulders like a leaden cloak. Elian knew the risks involved - dark magic was unpredictable and often deadly. Res, however, met the Dean's gaze with a steely glint in her eyes.
"We won't fail you, Dean," she said, her voice firm and unwavering. Elian echoed her sentiment with a curt nod, though a sliver of unease lingered in his heart.
A faint smile touched the Dean's lips, a flicker of hope battling the worry etched on his face. "May the light guide you," he murmured, a touch of reverence in his voice. "You leave at dawn. Prepare yourselves for a difficult mission."
As Elian and Res exited the Dean's office, the oppressive silence of the corridor seemed to amplify the gravity of their task. They exchanged a brief look, a silent communication passing between them. This wasn't just another mission; this was a foray into the heart of darkness, a battle against an unknown enemy.
Back in the briefing room, Elian busied himself sharpening his sword, the rhythmic scrape of metal against stone a calming counterpoint to the storm brewing within him. Res, ever the strategist, pored over dusty maps, tracing potential routes to the hidden facility. The flickering candlelight cast long, grotesque shadows on the walls, a chilling reminder of the darkness they were about to face.
They spoke little, both lost in their own thoughts. Elian couldn't shake the feeling that this mission was different. It wasn't just the unknown enemy or the dark magic; it was a gnawing sense that this facility held something personal, something connected to the darkness that simmered within him. But he pushed those thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time for introspection; now was the time for focus, for preparation.
A harsh creak shattered the tense silence in Elian and Res's briefing room. The stench of stale sweat and mildew, a familiar cocktail from their cramped living space, was momentarily overpowered by a whiff of something metallic - Mr. Zers' armor, usually gleaming, seemed dull in the flickering candlelight. It clinked faintly as he entered, the sound echoing in the room that always felt too small for two people and their gear.
He cleared his throat, the sound rougher than usual. "Evening, Elian, Res." His voice, normally gruff but laced with a hint of camaraderie, lacked its usual warmth. Res, ever the strategist, noticed the way his usually steady gaze darted around the room, never settling for long. Her own hand instinctively tightened around the worn wooden hilt of her spear.
"Ready, I presume?" Mr. Zers asked, the question hanging heavy in the air. It wasn't a question that demanded an answer, more of a grim formality.
Elian swallowed, the dryness in his throat a stark contrast to the damp chill that had settled in the room overnight. He glanced at Res, her face unreadable in the flickering light. A silent exchange passed between them. They both knew this wasn't a routine goblin raid or bandit cleanup. The air crackled with unspoken dread, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.
Mr. Zers sighed, a long, weary exhale that seemed to carry the weight of the world. "This isn't some goblin raid we're sending you on," he began, his voice low, a stark contrast to the usual booming orders. "This is beyond anything you've faced before. An A-rank, by any measure." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. The flickering candlelight danced across his face, deepening the worry lines etched there.
"But the Dean," he continued, his gaze finally meeting Elian's, "trusts your skills. And so do I."
Elian felt a flicker of something akin to gratitude amidst the churning cocktail of emotions in his gut. Trust. It was a heavy burden to bear, especially when the mission details remained shrouded in an unsettling fog.
Mr. Zers cleared his throat again, the sound scratchy and dry. "There's a place," he started, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a stark contrast to his usual authoritative tone. "A hidden facility deep within the kingdom's borders. Rumors…" he trailed off, his face etched with a grimace. "Rumors of dark magic, twisted experiments…"
He didn't need to finish the sentence. The image of a twisted, nightmare factory, filled with the screams of the tortured, flashed in Elian's mind. Res's hand tightened further around her spear, knuckles turning white.
"We sent a team to investigate," Mr. Zers continued, his brow furrowed with worry. "Experienced mages, all of them. But…" he hesitated, his voice thick with unspoken fear. "Silence. No word. No signal."
The room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with the weight of the unknown. The only sound was the erratic thump of Elian's heart hammering against his ribs. He exchanged a look with Res, a silent vow passing between them. They were the last hope for those lost in the darkness.
Mr. Zers straightened, his shoulders squaring as if bracing for a blow. "Your objective," he said, his voice regaining its usual command tone, but a tremor of anxiety still lingered beneath the surface, "is to locate the missing mages. If they're alive, bring them back. Whatever else you find there…" he trailed off again, his gaze hardening. "We deal with it."
With that, he turned on his heel and exited the room, leaving Elian and Res bathed in the flickering candlelight, the weight of their mission a tangible presence hanging heavy in the air. They rose in unison, a shared sense of dread and determination etched on their faces. This wasn't just another mission; it was a descent into the heart of darkness, and they weren't sure if they would ever emerge.