The wagon came to a groaning halt, its old wooden frame creaking under the strain of the journey. The teamster, a grizzled old man with a face carved by years on the road, tipped his hat and muttered, "This is as far as I go. The hill's too steep for these wheels."
Myhra, Carli, and Oda exchanged tired glances, the night's journey bearing down on them like an unseen burden, leaving the three magic wielders weary and a bit sluggish in their movements.
Myhra was the first to step down, her boots sinking into the damp earth. The moment her feet touched the ground, a wave of nausea hit her—a sudden, suffocating weakness that clawed at her chest. Her breath caught in her throat, and her hand instinctively shot up to her chest as though to push away the unseen force that gripped her, heart pounded loudly in her ears, drowning out the faint rustling of the trees that surrounded the area.
Carli, tall and imposing with a cascade of fiery red hair, had already dismounted from the other side. Her sharp eyes caught the momentary falter in Myhra's step. "You good?" she asked, her voice low and edged with concern. There was always a bite to her tone, like she was perpetually bracing for a fight.
Myhra nodded, swallowing hard. "Just... the journey," she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with fingers that trembled slightly, a faint smile forced through the ache twisting sharply in her chest, like an invisible hand squeezing her heart. "Perhaps the missions exhaustion."
Carli raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "A straight three-night mission will drain anyone. Ten years in, and I'm still not used to it." She tilted her head, scrutinizing Myhra closely. "Tell me you're not already seeing things. After my first round of missions, I slept for a week. Thought I was seeing vampire shadows where there were none."
Myhra blinked, checking her vision as she replied, "Not hallucinating." Yet she wasn't entirely certain she believed it. Her heart thudded in her chest, too loud and fast for no apparent reason.
She pressed her fingers to her pulse, feeling the steady beat of her blood. Everything seemed normal—so where was this turmoil coming from? The sensation of being watched had clung to her ever since they'd stepped off the wagon. "Just tired," she added, but the words felt hollow."
Oda landed lightly behind them, slim and boyish, brimming with restless energy despite the grueling journey. "Shall I scout ahead?" he offered brightly, as if the night and its terrors were a grand adventure waiting to be discovered. Hope and eagerness radiated from him, a candle in a windstorm.
Myhra shook her head, sharper than she intended. "Not yet. Help Carli with her gear first, then head home." She braced herself for Carli's familiar scowl, but tonight the taller woman remained silent, her jaw tight.
Oda grinned and snapped a salute. "Aye, Commander," He then lifted Carli's pack with ease and truck of belongs. His enthusiasm clashed with the senior woman's cold demeanor.
Carli gave Myhra a final glance and waved, confident that the youngest Commander in their ranks could handle herself. It still amazed her that Myhra had risen to such a high rank in only three years. With her youthful appearance, anyone unfamiliar with her reputation might mistake her for a mere scout in the Royal Army.
Perhaps being born into the immortal bloodlines gave her an undeniable edge, but Myhra had demonstrated a power that far exceeded expectations, a raw strength the magic wielders had all but forgotten. She was unstoppable, leaving her mark in every place she went, against every opponent she faced. The true nature of her power remained mystery, an enigma that seemed to grow with each victory.
As the pair's figures faded down the misty road, slowly vanishing around the bend, Myhra stood rooted in place, watching until even the wagon had disappeared from sight. Her gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, toward the dark forest looming in the distance, shadows tangled thick beneath the trees.
For a moment, she felt paralyzed by the oppressive aura that radiate from the darkness, her breath shallow as the sensation of being watched intensified. As in shadow, had a presence that seemed to cut through the night, a malevolent force that made her skin crawl.
"I'm exhausted," she whispered to herself, willing the anxiety to dissipate as she began her walk home, alone.
As Myhra crested the hill, her eyes instinctively sought the familiar shape of her childhood home, a humble stone house nestled at the end of the road. But it wasn't the simple structure that captured her gaze. Instead, her attention locked onto something far more imposing: The Red-Stone Castle.
The castle loomed like a phantom in the distance, its crimson stone glowed unnaturally, as if absorbing the very essence of the night, radiating an eerie brilliance that felt alive. Myhra froze, her breath catching in her throat. She had seen the castle a thousand times before, played before his gates in her childhood, but tonight... tonight it look different. It dominated the landscape like a dark omen, and for a moment, it was as if she were seeing it for the very first time.
She forced herself to tear her eyes away from the brooding structure, shifting her gaze to the cluster of houses at the foot of the hill. Four identically stone built homes, each modest and weather-worn. Only one had the warm glow of lamps flickering in the windows and thin trails of smoke rising from the kitchen vault—which is her home. The other three were drowned in darkness, their presence barely perceptible against the night, as though they had been part of the forgotten tale.
But even in their obscurity, they paled in comparison to Redstone Castle, which stood like a living entity. No lamps burned in its windows, no signs of life stirred within its walls, and yet... it felt more alive than anything around her. More alive than her shelter.
As Myhra found herself at the edge of the main square, the air felt thick with history, each path that led away from her speaking of untold. She paused, her eyes drawn upward to the winding road that twisted toward the tip of the entire ranges of mountain peak. It was an ancient trail, carved into the hillside, and it led to the place that always stirred something deep inside her—an echo of power, of something older than the village itself.
Her gaze followed the path until it reached the summit, where the temple stood proudly. Its highest spire pierced the sky, and the triangle flag at its peak danced wildly in the wind, as if defying the forces of nature. Lamps illuminated the temple's base, twinkling like distant stars. It was a sight that never failed to soothe her, a beacon of calm amidst the unsettling world mortal species situated below.
The temple had always been more than just a place of worship for Myhra. It was a sanctuary, a reservoir of strength that seemed to give energy from the void. Villagers believed that the temple guards them from all kind of evil powers. But it stood because it has been waiting--waiting for the right moment—or the right person—to unleash its true potential. Myhra had always felt connected to it, as if its ancient wisdom is ingrained into her bones.
She tipped her head down, her breath slowing as she let the temple's presence fill her, washing away the tension that had plagued her. For a moment, peace settled over her, a fleeting reprieve that always seemed to follow her.
After the moment, when Myhra turned her gaze back toward the square, the weight returned. The houses clustered at the edge of the square were shrouded in silence, their darkened windows and thick trees giving them an eerie stillness. The ancient trees that surrounded the houses were older than the village itself, their gnarled branches reaching over the path like sentinels.
Myhra's family temple lay hidden deep in the grove, nestled in an alcove formed by a cluster of holy trees. It was a place of sacred power, its energies mingling with the ancient magic that her family had long protected.
As Myhra walked further, her eyes drifted to the northern path again. There, looming in the distance, was Redstone Castle. Its towering red walls were barely visible in the fading light, but its presence was undeniable. It stood like a dark sentinel at the end of the road, a constant reminder of the land's darker history. Myhra shivered involuntarily. The castle had never unnerved her like this before, its ominous presence casting a long shadow over the village house below.
She took a deep breath, pushing the unease aside. Her heart had steadied, and the connection she felt to the mountain temple grounded her once more. She pressed forward, the feeling of being watched still lingering, though more distant now.
When she finally approached her family's home, its simple, familiar structure didn't calm her like it usually did. Her eyes couldn't help but stray back to the brooding form of Redstone Castle in the distance. The property had been entrusted to her grandmother, a duty Myhra had never questioned. But now, standing before the imposing structure, a sense of dread gnawed at her, as if the castle was waiting for something—or someone.
Raising her lantern, Myhra narrowed her eyes. "Why does it feel like something's in there?" she muttered under her breath. Just as the words left her lips, a shadow darted across one of the castle's corridors. Her heart leaped in her chest. It was quick—too quick to be normal.
Before she could stop herself, her feet carried her toward the adjacent gate, which hung slightly ajar. The gate didn't appear open from a distance, but now, standing before it, Myhra could see the gap, as if someone—or something—had passed through recently. The castle loomed above her, its tall walls glowing faintly under the moonlight.
Rising against the rugged mountain backdrop, Redstone Castle stood like a relic of a time long past, its ten towers clawing at the sky. It was a fortress of power and mystery, and yet, no one had entered for years. The castle's ancient seal was said to be unbreakable. But Myhra had seen something move inside, she was certain of it.