The road stretched on endlessly before him, winding through dense forests and rocky hillsides as the early morning mist clung to the earth. The rising sun did little to banish the cold, and the scent of damp earth filled the air as Aric rode in silence, his mind churning with thoughts of what he had seen in Caldron's Hollow.
The beast, the dark ritual, the lifeless eyes of the villagers, they haunted him. He had dealt with monsters before, but nothing like what he had encountered over the last day. This was something new, something ancient, and it felt as though it was creeping out from every shadow.
Storm moved steadily beneath him, the horse's hooves clopping against the stone-laden path, but even the familiar sound couldn't shake Aric from the weight of his thoughts. He had no clear destination now, only the sense that whatever was happening was spreading, and fast.
How far had the darkness reached? Were there more villages like Caldron's Hollow, already dead and forgotten, their people claimed by the same sinister force?
The memories of the orc ritual clung to him, the image of the blood-soaked stone pillar and the sickly green light of the runes etched into his mind. It was no mere coincidence that the orcs had appeared in force just as these strange powers began to manifest. They had been agents of something far greater, servants, perhaps, of a power that had slept beneath Rhu'en for centuries.
As Aric rode through the forested hills, a sense of unease began to settle over him. The forest was quiet, too quiet. The usual sounds of birdsong and rustling leaves were absent, replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence. His eyes scanned the tree line, searching for movement, but everything seemed still. Unnaturally still.
Instinctively, he slowed Storm to a halt and listened, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The tension in the air was palpable, like the calm before a storm. He could feel it, the presence of something lurking, watching, waiting.
Just as he was about to move forward, a flicker of movement caught his eye. From the corner of his vision, he saw a figure dart between the trees, quick, shadowy, and too large to be an ordinary traveler.
Aric's pulse quickened, but he kept his body still, his eyes locked on the spot where he had seen the movement.
"Show yourself," he called out, his voice steady despite the growing tension in his chest.
For a moment, there was no response. The forest remained deathly quiet, as though holding its breath. Then, slowly, from the shadows of the trees, a figure emerged, a man, though clearly no ordinary one. He was cloaked in dark, weathered robes, his face partially obscured by a hood, but what struck Aric most were his eyes. They glowed faintly in the dim light, a cold, unnatural blue that sent a shiver down Aric's spine.
The man said nothing as he stepped forward, his movements fluid and deliberate, as though he had been waiting for this moment.
Aric tightened his grip on the reins, his instincts telling him to be on guard. He had faced enough strange encounters in the past days to know when something wasn't right. The man's presence exuded a sense of danger, of something... otherworldly.
"What do you want?" Aric asked, keeping his voice firm.
The man's lips curled into a faint, almost amused smile. "You are a hunter, aren't you?" His voice was smooth, like silk over steel. "I can sense the blood of your ancestors running through your veins. The last of the Davorians... a dying breed."
Aric's jaw tightened. "How do you know who I am?"
The stranger chuckled softly, the sound unsettling in the silence of the forest. "The world is changing, Aric Davorian. Dark forces stir, and your name... well, your name is not as forgotten as you might think."
Aric's pulse quickened. "What do you know of these dark forces?"
The man's glowing eyes narrowed, his expression shifting to something more serious. "More than you can imagine. The orcs, the rituals, the creatures that crawl from the shadows... they are only the beginning. The black ice in the Frozen Wastes has begun to thaw. The seals are weakening."
Aric felt a chill run down his spine at the mention of the Frozen Wastes. The place had long been a source of fear and legend, a land where an ancient evil had been sealed away eons ago. He had heard the stories, the whispers of Gulgareth, but they had always seemed distant, like fables meant to frighten children.
But now, they seemed all too real.
"And what do you have to do with any of this?" Aric asked, his tone cautious.
The man stepped closer, his eyes never leaving Aric's. "I am a watcher, nothing more. I walk in the shadows, watching the movements of those who seek to awaken the darkness. I have seen the destruction that is coming, and I know this much: if you do not act soon, the darkness will consume all of Rhu'en."
Aric's grip on his sword tightened. "Why tell me this?"
"Because," the man said, his voice lowering, "you are one of the few who can stop it."
The stranger's words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Aric's mind raced, but he didn't trust this man, watcher or not, his cryptic warnings only added to the mystery and fear surrounding the events he had witnessed. But one thing was clear: the darkness was spreading faster than he could have imagined, and the forces behind it were far more powerful than a few scattered orc raids.
"You'll need more than your blade to face what's coming," the man continued, his tone almost mocking. "But the path ahead will reveal what you need, in time."
Aric said nothing, his gaze locked on the stranger as he weighed his next move. He had no reason to trust this man, but the warnings... the details... they were too precise to ignore.
The man gave a final nod, almost as if acknowledging Aric's internal struggle. "You'll find answers soon enough. They lie in the Ruins of Zarven, to the north. Follow the signs."
And with that, the stranger turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the forest, leaving Aric alone once more, the weight of his words settling like a stone in Aric's chest.
Aric remained motionless for a moment, staring at the spot where the stranger had disappeared. The Ruins of Zarven, a place he had only heard of in passing, a place said to hold the remnants of an ancient civilization long forgotten. He had no clear destination before, but now...
His instincts told him the stranger's warnings weren't just idle threats. The darkness was real, and the answers, however dangerous they might be, were out there.
He mounted Storm once again, giving the horse a reassuring pat before turning him northward.
The Ruins of Zarven awaited, and with them, perhaps the truth behind the growing shadow over Rhu'en.
The northern road grew darker with each passing hour. Thick clouds rolled in overhead, casting the world in a dull gray light as Aric rode forward, Storm's hooves crunching on the loose gravel of the forest path. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth, and the cold breeze seemed to whisper warnings through the twisted branches. The silence was suffocating, and though his hunter's instincts told him something was watching, there were no obvious signs of life, no birds, no rustling leaves, only the oppressive weight of stillness.
The further north he traveled, the more palpable the tension became. The trees stood taller, their gnarled trunks wrapped in a mist that clung low to the ground, like the breath of something ancient exhaled from the depths of the earth. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, and the deeper Aric rode into the woods, the more the sense of dread settled in his gut.
He couldn't shake the feeling that the forest itself was alive, watching him, waiting. Every creak of a branch made his skin prickle, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The whispers of dark magic were growing louder, tugging at the edges of his mind, reminding him of the black stone pillar and the orcs' twisted ritual. The seals are weakening.
Suddenly, Storm whinnied, his ears flicking back, his steps becoming uneasy.
Aric straightened in the saddle, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. His eyes darted across the treeline, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. The world seemed to hold its breath.
And then, from the thick underbrush, came a sound that turned his blood cold, a wet, slithering noise, followed by a low, guttural growl.
Before Aric could react, something lunged from the darkness, a twisted figure, its grotesque form contorting as it threw itself at him with impossible speed. The thing was barely recognizable as once-human, its limbs elongated and broken in unnatural angles, its pale skin torn and oozing black blood that reeked of decay. Its eyes glowed a sickly yellow, filled with a malevolent hunger that sent a jolt of terror through him.
It slammed into Aric with a force that nearly knocked him from the saddle, its claws raking across his chestplate, screeching as they tore through metal. Aric grunted, gripping his sword as he twisted in the saddle, bringing the blade down in a vicious arc. The steel sliced through the creature's arm, severing it cleanly at the elbow.
But instead of retreating, the thing let out an ear-splitting shriek and lunged again, undeterred by the loss of its limb. Black blood spattered across Aric's face, the smell of rot overwhelming as the creature's gaping maw snapped inches from his throat. Its breath was foul, a mixture of bile and death, and its mouth was lined with jagged, bloodied teeth.
Aric shoved it back with all his strength, yanking Storm's reins to move the horse out of reach. The creature's severed arm still twitched on the ground, thick tendrils of flesh and sinew writhing as if trying to reattach themselves. But Aric gave it no chance. He spun around, delivering a brutal kick to the creature's chest, sending it sprawling onto the dirt road.
The creature snarled as it scrambled to its feet, its body twitching unnaturally, its broken limbs twisting back into place with sickening pops and cracks. Its eyes locked onto Aric, its jaw hanging open, saliva dripping from its blood-stained mouth. Aric barely had time to react before it launched itself at him again, its remaining claw extended like a blade aimed at his throat.
Aric leaned low in the saddle, dodging the strike, and as the creature passed, he drove his sword into its side. The blade bit deep, but the creature's flesh was strangely soft, almost like slicing through rotting fruit. Dark, viscous blood oozed from the wound, and the stench of decay hit him like a punch in the gut.
The creature let out a high-pitched scream, the sound unnatural and ear-piercing. It twisted violently, pulling itself off his sword, its body convulsing as if in agony, but it wasn't retreating. Aric could see that its hunger, its bloodlust, far outweighed any pain. The thing was driven by something darker, something more primal than mere survival.
Before Aric could strike again, the creature charged. It leaped onto Storm, its claws sinking into the horse's side. Storm let out a panicked whinny, rearing up on his hind legs as the beast tore at him, dark blood spraying across the ground.
"No!" Aric shouted, his heart hammering in his chest as he swung his sword in a wide arc, desperate to free Storm from the creature's grasp. The blade connected with the thing's back, severing its spine, but the creature didn't go down.
It kept moving.
Aric gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. He knew he couldn't let this thing continue its rampage. With a powerful slash, he decapitated the creature in one clean stroke. Its head hit the ground with a sickening thud, black blood pouring from its neck, but its body kept twitching, still trying to claw its way toward him.
"Stay down," Aric growled, driving his sword through its chest and pinning the body to the earth.
At last, the creature stopped moving, its yellow eyes fading into lifelessness. Aric stepped back, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, his arms burning from the effort. His clothes and armor were covered in gore, the stench of death clinging to him.
Storm, though shaken, stood firm beneath him, his sides heaving. Aric reached down, running a hand over the horse's neck to calm him. Blood still trickled from the wounds the creature had inflicted, but they were shallow. He would survive.
Aric took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. The creature at his feet was unlike anything he had ever faced before. It wasn't an orc, nor was it a simple beast. This was something darker, something born of the same dark magic that had tainted the orcs' ritual back at the village.
He crouched beside the twitching corpse, inspecting the mangled body more closely. Its pale, leathery skin was etched with strange, glowing runes, symbols he had seen before. The same green, sickly light that had glowed from the black stone pillar pulsed faintly from the creature's wounds, like dying embers of an unholy fire.
This thing was twisted by magic. Warped beyond recognition, like a body reanimated and reshaped by forces older than anything Aric could comprehend.
The forest around him remained unnaturally still, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the next move. Aric sheathed his sword, but kept his hand on the hilt, his senses still on high alert. He knew there was more out there, lurking in the shadows.
And then, from deep within the forest, came a sound that froze his blood, a low, deep howl, followed by the unmistakable snapping of branches. The noise was distant but growing louder. The creature he had just slain wasn't alone.
Aric mounted Storm, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned the horse northward. Whatever awaited him in the Ruins of Zarven would be far worse than this twisted abomination. But if the seals were breaking, if the darkness was spreading faster than he could imagine, he had no choice but to press on.