The rhythmic clop of Storm's hooves on the dirt path was the only sound in the quiet, eerie night. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky awash in the faint glow of the three moons, Glain, Petril, and Rhuz, casting an otherworldly light across the landscape. Aric rode in silence, his body aching from the battle, but his mind was sharper now than it had been in weeks. The orc ritual haunted his thoughts, but the adrenaline still pumping through his veins kept him focused.
The destruction of the pillar had stopped whatever dark force the orcs had been summoning, but Aric knew it was far from over. He had barely scratched the surface of the evil that was spreading across the land, and the dark magic he had felt near the pillar clung to him like a shadow. He could still feel it in the air, as though something was watching, waiting for the right moment to strike again.
He rode with urgency, needing to reach the nearest village before the night grew too late. There, he could gather more information, possibly hear rumors of the orcs' movements or the strange happenings that seemed to plague the countryside. But most of all, he needed answers. Answers about the ritual, the strange black stone, and the dark whispers that hinted at something far worse on the horizon.
The chill of the night settled deeper into his bones as he neared the village of Caldron's Hollow, a small settlement nestled in the low hills at the edge of the forest. The smell of smoke still lingered in the air, a reminder of the battle behind him, but here, the smoke came from the hearths of homes, not burning ruins.
As he approached the outskirts of the village, something felt off. The usual sounds of a village at night, distant chatter, the clinking of tools, the hum of life, were absent. Instead, there was an oppressive silence, as if the village itself had fallen under a dark spell.
Aric slowed Storm to a halt, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the village ahead. The faint glow of fires flickered through windows, but no one was outside. No guards. No late-night workers. Nothing. Just stillness.
He dismounted and tied Storm to a post, drawing his sword instinctively. Every sense was on high alert as he crept forward, his boots barely making a sound on the dirt path. His breath was steady, controlled, but his heart raced as he moved deeper into the quiet village.
Something wasn't right.
As he passed the first few homes, his unease grew. Shadows flickered across the windows, but there were no voices. No movement. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he could feel the presence of something unnatural.
His mind raced back to the villager he had found dying on the road, something worse had come from the shadows, the man had said. Aric's grip tightened on his sword.
He approached the village square, where a fountain stood in the center, its waters still under the moons' light. And there, in the dim glow, he saw them.
Bodies.
Dozens of them, scattered around the square, piled at the base of the fountain like broken dolls. Men, women, children, villagers he had likely passed on previous hunts, now lying lifeless, their faces twisted in expressions of unimaginable terror.
Aric swallowed hard, his chest tightening. He crouched beside one of the bodies, a young man whose eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the sky. There was no sign of a struggle, no wounds that would suggest they had been attacked in the traditional sense. Instead, their skin was pale, almost drained of color, and their eyes...
Their eyes were filled with black, as though their very souls had been sucked away.
Aric stood slowly, scanning the area, his pulse quickening. What in Ori's name had done this? The orcs weren't capable of something like this. No blade, no arrow could cause death like this.
Then he felt it again, the dark presence. The same malevolent force that had clung to the ritual site, the same heaviness in the air that warned him of a danger far greater than orcs.
A low, guttural growl came from the shadows at the edge of the square. Aric's head snapped in the direction of the sound, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. Something moved just beyond the reach of the moonlight, a shape that was too large, too twisted to be human.
He took a step back, his heart pounding in his chest as the creature emerged from the shadows.
The creature was unlike anything Aric had ever seen. It stood hunched on two legs, its body covered in dark, matted fur, with arms that ended in long, clawed hands. Its face was twisted, almost wolf-like, but its eyes glowed with the same sickly green light that had pulsed from the runes on the black stone pillar.
A monster. Not like the orcs or the beasts of the forest, but something far more sinister, something born of dark magic.
The beast growled again, its lips pulling back to reveal rows of jagged teeth, its gaze fixed on Aric with a hunger that made his blood run cold.
Aric braced himself, his body tense, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. He knew this fight would be different from the orcs. This creature wasn't just driven by bloodlust, it was driven by something darker, something far more dangerous.
The beast lunged at him with terrifying speed, its claws slashing through the air. Aric barely managed to dodge the attack, rolling to the side as the creature's claws ripped into the ground where he had just stood.
He sprang to his feet and slashed at the beast with his sword, but it moved too quickly, dodging his strike with an agility that defied its size. The creature circled him, its glowing eyes never leaving his, its movements calculated, predatory.
Aric kept his blade raised, his breath coming in quick bursts as he tried to predict the creature's next move. He couldn't afford to make a mistake. One wrong step, one miscalculation, and it would be over.
The beast lunged again, this time feinting to the right before spinning and swiping with its left claw. Aric saw the movement just in time and parried, the force of the impact nearly knocking the sword from his hand. He gritted his teeth and slashed upward, catching the creature across the chest. Dark blood sprayed from the wound, but the beast barely seemed to notice.
It howled in fury, its glowing eyes blazing brighter as it charged at him once more. Aric knew he couldn't take it head-on, not with its strength and speed. He had to outthink it, outmaneuver it.
He danced around the beast, keeping just out of reach of its claws as he studied its movements. Every time it lunged, every time it swiped, he took note of its rhythm, its timing.
Then, with a burst of speed, he moved in.
The creature swung at him again, but this time, Aric anticipated the strike. He ducked low, letting the beast's claw pass harmlessly over his head, and drove his sword upward with all his strength, the blade sinking deep into the creature's exposed side.
The monster let out a bloodcurdling scream, its body convulsing as dark magic poured from the wound like smoke. Aric twisted the blade and ripped it free, the creature stumbling back, its once-fearsome eyes dimming.
With a final, ragged breath, the beast collapsed to the ground, its body dissolving into the same dark mist that had surrounded the ritual stone.
Aric stood over the beast's remains, his chest heaving, his sword dripping with dark blood. The village square was silent once more, save for the crackle of the distant fires and the faint rustle of the wind.
He sheathed his sword and wiped the sweat from his brow, his mind racing with questions. This creature... it wasn't an ordinary monster. It was something more. Something tied to the dark magic that was seeping into the world.
He looked around at the lifeless bodies of the villagers, their empty eyes staring at nothing. He had been too late to save them, just as he had been too late to save his own village.
But this time, it felt different. This time, he was beginning to understand that the darkness he was facing was far greater than anything he had ever imagined.
And it was spreading.
The cold night air settled around Aric as the misty remains of the beast dissipated, leaving nothing but the chilling silence of the dead village. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles trembling from exertion, but he forced himself to stand straight, surveying the square once more. The lifeless bodies of the villagers lay in eerie stillness, their blackened eyes staring into the void, an unsettling reminder of the dark power that had claimed their lives.
He wiped the blood from his sword on the ground and sheathed it, his mind still spinning with questions. What was this creature? What dark forces had summoned it? And more pressing, was this just the beginning?
He knew that something far more sinister was at play than just the orc raids. The monster he had fought, the ritual he had interrupted, the black stone pillar, all of it pointed to a much larger, much darker conspiracy. The forces that once lay dormant in the world of Rhu'en were stirring, and he was only beginning to glimpse their full extent.
But this much was clear: the attack on his village was no isolated event, and the horrors he had faced here in Caldron's Hollow were just a taste of the darkness yet to come.
Aric felt the weight of it all settle heavily on his shoulders, but instead of crumbling beneath it, a familiar resolve began to grow within him. His family's legacy as monster hunters had been stained by their past, and for years, Aric had tried to run from it. But he couldn't run anymore. Not from this.
The world needed someone to face the darkness. And whether he was ready or not, Aric was the last Davorian.
He moved through the village, taking one last look at the destruction. He wished he could give the dead a proper burial, but the dark magic that had claimed their lives left a stain that he wasn't sure could be cleansed. The village square, once full of life, was now a tomb, a grim monument to the spreading shadow.
As he reached Storm, the loyal horse waiting just outside the village, he paused for a moment, staring at the horizon. The world felt much larger now, the dangers far more terrifying than he had ever known. But there was no turning back.
He mounted Storm, the familiar weight of his sword at his side, and turned his gaze to the road ahead. The hunt had begun.
As dawn approached, Aric rode out of Caldron's Hollow, leaving the village behind as a cold mist clung to the ground. The three moons hung high in the sky, their light dimming as the sun began its ascent. His thoughts were a swirling mass of questions, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of purpose.
He needed answers, answers about the dark magic, about the creatures rising from the shadows, and most of all, about the force that was slowly awakening across Rhu'en. Whatever had been locked away in the Frozen Wastes was stirring, and the cracks in the ancient seals were beginning to show.
Aric tightened his grip on Storm's reins, determination coursing through him. He wasn't just hunting monsters anymore. He was hunting the truth, and with it, the chance to restore not only his family's honor but perhaps save the world from the dark forces that threatened to consume it.