Caden's legs threatened to give out as he stumbled across the grassy expanse, the village lights flickering in the distance like a promise of salvation. The cold bite of the Shadow Wraith's attack still gnawed at his chest, a relentless reminder of the price he paid for wielding the Fragment of Vigor. Each step sent waves of exhaustion crashing over him, but he pushed forward, focusing on the steady glow ahead.
[Objective Completed: Leave the Forest of Shattered Echoes.]
The System's message blinked in his mind, cold and detached. It offered no comfort, only the stark reminder that he was far from safe. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see crimson eyes glaring back at him from the darkness. The forest edge remained still, shrouded in its mysteries, but the silence was deceptive, coiled tight with tension.
"Not far now," Caden whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. The idea of shelter kept his feet moving, even as fatigue seeped into his bones and dulled the once-burning pulse of power. The shard in his pocket had grown cold, its light diminished, leaving behind an unsettling quiet within him. The System's last warning replayed in his mind: Overuse of System Fragments may lead to unexpected consequences.
The village wasn't what he had imagined. It was smaller, more of a scattered outpost nestled at the forest's edge than a proper settlement. Weathered cottages lined the narrow paths, shutters closed tight as if to ward off the night's reach. The weak glow of oil lanterns flickered unevenly, casting restless, shifting shadows across the cobblestones. It was as if the entire place held its breath, listening to secrets carried by the wind.
As he crossed into the village, a sharp sound made him halt—a quiet rustle, deliberate and close. Caden's body tensed, adrenaline spiking one last time as a figure emerged from the mouth of an alley. The figure stepped forward, revealing a man wrapped in a deep, tattered cloak that seemed to absorb the light. His face was obscured by the shadow of his hood, but two piercing eyes glinted beneath it, sharp and assessing.
"You look like you've seen a ghost—or worse," the stranger said, his voice low and smooth. There was a subtle edge to it, as if each word was carefully chosen and weighed. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "It's rare to see someone come from that forest and live to speak of it."
Caden's breath hitched, each labored inhale scraping against his lungs. How did this man know where he'd come from? The exhaustion he felt seemed to blur the line between caution and desperation. "I... I need a place to rest," he managed, his voice barely above a whisper.
The man stepped closer, the air between them charged with an unseen force. "Rest? Yes, but you need more than that, don't you, Caden?"
Hearing his name spoken aloud made Caden's blood freeze. He instinctively took a step back, eyes widening. "How do you—?"
The man raised a gloved hand, stopping him mid-question. "Questions later. Your wounds won't heal if you stand here wasting breath. Come." He turned, gesturing toward a small stone building on the edge of the village, its roof half-collapsed but with a warm light flickering inside.
For a moment, doubt clawed at Caden's mind. The village seemed to hold its breath, the silence pressing down on him like a weight. But his body was done resisting. He followed the stranger, steps slow and hesitant but sure.
Inside, the room was dimly lit by a hearth fire that crackled weakly. Shadows played on the rough stone walls, revealing shelves lined with old, leather-bound books and strange relics. The man pulled back his hood, revealing a sharp-featured face marked with an old scar that crossed his brow and cheek. He looked both young and ancient at the same time, eyes sharp as a blade's edge.
"My name is Garrick," he said, offering no more than that. He moved to the hearth, stoking the embers until they glowed with renewed warmth. "Sit. You're safe here... for now."
Caden hesitated, the remnants of caution warring with sheer exhaustion. Finally, he sank into a worn chair by the fire, the heat seeping into his cold, aching limbs. The tension in his muscles unwound by a fraction.
Garrick's gaze flickered to the pocket where the shard rested. "You've found one of the fragments, haven't you?"
Caden's pulse quickened, eyes narrowing. "How do you know about them?"
A faint smile touched Garrick's lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I've spent my life hunting their echoes. The System may be fragmented, but it leaves traces—clues, for those who know where to look. Your arrival was not unnoticed, and neither were the ripples you caused in that forest."
A shiver ran down Caden's spine, despite the fire's warmth. "The Wraiths… they're drawn to the fragments?"
Garrick nodded solemnly. "And worse. The shards disrupt the natural order, call to the things that should not be disturbed." His expression hardened. "Your survival tonight was no small feat, but it marked you. You're now a beacon to them, and to others who seek the System's lost power."
Silence settled between them, the gravity of Garrick's words sinking in. Caden's fingers absently traced the outline of the shard in his pocket. It felt heavier now, as if it carried not just power but the burden of unseen eyes.
"So what do I do now?" Caden asked, his voice steadier than he felt.
Garrick's eyes met his, unwavering. "You learn, you grow stronger, and you prepare. This is just the beginning, Caden. The echoes of the past are stirring, and they won't be silenced easily."
The fire crackled louder, as if to punctuate Garrick's words. Outside, the wind howled, carrying with it the whispers of a world that remembered, and a system longing to be whole once more.