As Aelric and his group returned to Elanor, the mood was light. Lyra and Seraphina joked about Seraphina's tendency to take the lead in every situation, even when it wasn't necessary. Aelric laughed, feeling a rare moment of peace.
But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the road, Aelric felt a strange chill. He stopped his horse, his eyes scanning the treeline.
"What is it?" Seraphina asked, her hand instinctively going to her sword.
"I don't know," Aelric said. "Something feels… wrong."
The group fell silent, and for a moment, the only sound was the rustling of leaves in the wind. Then, from the shadows of the forest, a figure emerged. It was cloaked in black, its face hidden, but its presence radiated menace.
"Who are you?" Aelric called out, his hand gripping his sword.
The figure didn't answer. Instead, it raised a hand, and a dark mist began to swirl around it. Lyra gasped. "That's dark magic."
Aelric's heart raced as the figure stepped closer. "The Shadow King is gone," he said firmly. "Your darkness has no place here."
The figure laughed, a cold, hollow sound. "You think you've won, little heir? The Shadow King may be gone, but his darkness is eternal. You'll never escape it."
With that, the figure vanished, leaving behind only a lingering sense of dread.
Aelric turned to Lyra and Seraphina, his face pale. "What was that?"
"I don't know," Lyra said, her voice trembling. "But it means the fight isn't over."
Aelric nodded, his resolve hardening. He had thought defeating the Shadow King would be the end, but it seemed their journey was far from over.