The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery light over the village of Bramble Hollow. Elara stood on the balcony outside her small room at the inn, staring out at the quiet streets below. The night was peaceful, but her mind was anything but.
Garrick's words from earlier echoed in her thoughts.
"Tristan isn't the only one with secrets."
She leaned on the wooden railing, feeling the weight of the journey ahead pressing down on her. Tristan's forces were moving faster than she had anticipated, and dark magic was at play. If she was going to stop him, she needed to understand what kind of power he was using—and who else was involved.
Elara's thoughts drifted to the mercenaries. Garrick was a man of few words, but he was hiding something. She could feel it. And Marcus—his sudden appearance and cryptic warnings only added to the sense of danger looming over them all.
But there was something more that troubled her. Ever since she had left the palace, she had felt a subtle but persistent tug, like a thread pulling her toward something—or someone—just out of reach. It wasn't a feeling she could explain, but she couldn't ignore it either.
Was it magic? Or was it something more?
As she stood there, lost in thought, a soft knock on her door pulled her back to the present. Elara tensed, her hand instinctively going to the dagger at her belt.
"Who is it?" she called softly.
"It's me," came Garrick's gruff voice from the other side of the door.
Elara exhaled and opened the door cautiously. Garrick stood in the dimly lit hallway, his face shadowed by the faint light of the inn's lanterns.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice low and serious.
She stepped aside, allowing him into the small room. He glanced around briefly before turning to face her, his eyes hard and unreadable.
"There's something you're not telling me," he said bluntly.
Elara felt her heart skip a beat. She had known this moment was coming, but she hadn't expected it so soon. She had been careful to keep her true identity hidden, but Garrick was perceptive—and he wasn't the kind of man who trusted easily.
"What do you mean?" she asked, keeping her tone steady.
Garrick crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering. "You've been with us for a few days now, and I've seen enough to know you're not just some traveler passing through. You fight too well, you ask too many questions, and you seem to know more about Tristan than you're letting on."
Elara's mind raced, searching for a way to deflect the conversation without revealing too much. But Garrick wasn't going to let it go. He was too sharp for that.
"I've seen what happens when kingdoms fall," she said carefully, choosing her words with precision. "I've seen the devastation that dark magic can cause. That's why I'm here. To stop Tristan before he destroys everything."
Garrick's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Elara thought he might press her further. But then he nodded slowly, as if accepting her answer—for now.
"There's more going on here than just Tristan's ambition," he said quietly. "Something bigger. Darker. And if we're going to stop him, we need more than just brute strength. We need allies. People who understand the kind of magic we're up against."
Elara's stomach twisted at his words. She had already suspected that Tristan was working with forces beyond his control, but hearing Garrick confirm it made the danger feel all the more real.
"I agree," she said, her voice steady despite the growing dread inside her. "But where do we find these allies? And how do we know who we can trust?"
Garrick glanced toward the window, his expression thoughtful. "There's a place to the east, beyond the Blackwood Forest. An old fortress that once belonged to the Mage Lords before they were wiped out during the last war. There are rumors that some of their descendants still live there—mages who might be willing to join us, if we can convince them."
Elara's eyes widened. The Mage Lords were legendary—powerful sorcerers who had once ruled vast territories before their downfall. If any of their descendants still lived, they would be invaluable allies in the fight against Tristan's dark magic.
But the Blackwood Forest was dangerous—full of ancient creatures and wild magic that could easily overwhelm even the most skilled warriors.
"You want to go there?" she asked, her voice laced with caution.
Garrick met her gaze, his expression grim. "It's our best shot. We need more than just swords and soldiers if we're going to have any chance of stopping Tristan. We need magic."
Elara hesitated. She had never been to the Blackwood Forest, but she had heard the stories. People who ventured too deep into its heart often didn't return. But Garrick was right—they needed allies, and if the descendants of the Mage Lords still lived, they could be the key to turning the tide against Tristan.
"I'll go with you," she said finally, her resolve hardening. "But we need to be careful. The Blackwood Forest is dangerous. If we're not prepared, we could lose more than just time."
Garrick nodded, his gaze serious. "We leave at dawn."
---
As dawn broke over the horizon, the small group of mercenaries gathered in the clearing outside the village. Garrick stood at the front, his expression as stern and unreadable as ever. Marcus was there too, his dark cloak billowing slightly in the early morning breeze. A few other mercenaries—veterans who had proven their loyalty to Garrick—stood ready with their weapons.
Elara adjusted the hood of her cloak, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The journey ahead would be perilous, but she had made her decision. This was the path she had chosen.
Garrick caught her eye and gave a curt nod. "You ready for this?"
Elara nodded, tightening her grip on the hilt of her sword. "I'm ready."
Without another word, Garrick led the group into the dense woods that bordered Bramble Hollow, the trees closing in around them as they ventured deeper into the wilds. The Blackwood Forest loomed ahead, its dark, twisted branches casting eerie shadows on the ground. The air grew colder as they pressed on, the sounds of the village fading behind them.
Elara felt the weight of the forest's magic pressing down on her, like a thousand unseen eyes watching their every move. The deeper they went, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. Every rustle of leaves and creak of branches seemed louder, more menacing.
The path ahead was uncertain, but Elara knew one thing for sure: if they were going to survive this journey, they would need to trust one another—and that meant revealing the secrets she had kept hidden for so long.
As they ventured deeper into the Blackwood, Elara could feel the pull of magic growing stronger. Whatever lay ahead, it was waiting for them—and it was watching.
---