Days passed, and the village slowly grew accustomed to Alaric's new role as the bearer of both light and darkness. The sight of the Lightbringer relic around his neck seemed to reassure some, but an undercurrent of uncertainty lingered. Alaric could feel it, see it in the hesitant smiles and averted eyes. The people wanted to believe in him, yet the darkness that clung to his power was hard to ignore.
Caelum remained vigilant, his gaze never straying far from Alaric whenever they crossed paths. Though he had agreed to hold back his hand, Alaric knew that Caelum's trust would not come easily—and perhaps, would never come at all.
One evening, as twilight painted the village in hues of blue and violet, Alaric sat alone by the Undying Tree, his hand resting on the relic around his neck. The crystal's faint warmth and glow seemed at odds with the dark energy that pulsed from the tree, creating a strange sensation—a push and pull between forces that he could barely contain.
His thoughts were interrupted by the soft crunch of footsteps on the forest floor. He looked up to find Elder Gareth approaching, his face a mask of cautious curiosity.
"Alaric," the elder said, nodding in greeting as he sat on a stone nearby. "I've wanted to speak with you… away from the village."
Alaric studied the elder's expression, noting the lines of weariness etched into his face. "I understand. It's hard for them to trust me now."
Elder Gareth gave a slow nod, his gaze settling on the pendant. "I will be honest with you, Alaric. I want to believe that you have the village's best interests at heart. But I've seen power like this before. I was just a boy, but… there was once a man who claimed he could protect us from the forest's dangers. He, too, bore the mark of darkness."
Alaric's eyes narrowed, surprised. "What happened to him?"
The elder's face darkened, his voice a low murmur. "He disappeared. One night, he left the village and ventured into the Darkwood, saying he would cleanse it of all evil. We never saw him again. But his spirit… the darkness he carried… it lingered. Some say his ghost haunts the forest still."
The words sent a chill through Alaric, and he looked away, his grip tightening on the relic. "You think I'm destined for the same fate?"
Gareth sighed. "I don't know. I see a strength in you, Alaric. But this power… it changes people. The villagers look to you as a protector, but they are wary. And if you lose yourself to this darkness, they will turn on you as quickly as they've embraced you."
Alaric nodded slowly. "That's why I sought the relic. To show them that I haven't lost who I am. That I'm still fighting for them."
The elder was silent for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful. "You may need to do more than simply show them, Alaric. You may need to prove it."
Alaric looked at the elder, sensing a weight behind his words. "Prove it… how?"
Elder Gareth's face was grave. "There are rumors that the Order has sent scouts into the forest. They're searching for something, though no one knows what. Some say it's a weapon. Others think it's a force even darker than the one we face. But whatever it is, they've stirred the beasts in the forest. Shadows have been seen lurking closer to the village than ever before. If you can drive them back, the village may finally see you as their true guardian."
Alaric's mind raced as he took in the elder's words. The Order's presence in the forest was unsettling, but the opportunity to prove himself was too great to ignore.
"I'll go," he said, his voice resolute. "I'll confront whatever threat is out there."
The elder nodded, his expression softening. "Be careful, Alaric. This path you've chosen… it is a lonely one. But if you succeed, you may earn the village's trust in a way that no relic could grant you."
---
The next night, under the cover of darkness, Alaric set out alone into the heart of the Darkwood. The air was thick and heavy, a silence hanging over the forest that felt unnatural, even for this place. Shadows shifted around him, their presence familiar, almost comforting. They whispered to him, urging him forward, as though they knew his purpose.
As he ventured deeper, he sensed a disturbance—something foreign, a presence that didn't belong in the Darkwood. He moved carefully, his senses alert, until he spotted movement up ahead. Two figures clad in dark cloaks, their backs turned as they studied a twisted tree marked with strange glyphs.
Order scouts.
Alaric moved closer, drawing the shadows around him to muffle his steps. He could make out snippets of their conversation, their voices low and urgent.
"This place… it reeks of corruption," one scout muttered, his gloved hand tracing the glyphs on the tree. "The Order warned us about the dangers here, but even they may have underestimated the forest's power."
The other scout nodded, his gaze wary as he scanned the surrounding trees. "If the rumors are true, then somewhere in this forest lies the Obsidian Heart. With it, the Order would hold dominion over any dark power. No more rogue sorcerers… no more threats."
Alaric's blood ran cold. The Obsidian Heart. He had heard whispers of it—an ancient artifact said to control the darkest of powers. If the Order found it, they could harness the forest's darkness and use it to crush any resistance. Including him.
The scouts were so engrossed in their discussion that they didn't notice as Alaric summoned a shade from the shadows. The wraith-like figure slipped silently through the trees, circling around the scouts before letting out a low, mournful wail.
The scouts spun around, their hands on their weapons as they stared into the darkness, fear etched on their faces.
"What was that?" one of them hissed, his voice trembling.
"Some trick of the forest," the other replied, though his voice lacked confidence. "We're not alone here."
Alaric seized the moment, stepping from the shadows, his presence a dark silhouette against the trees. "You shouldn't have come here."
The scouts turned, their eyes widening as they recognized him. "You… you're the one who wields the Undying Tree's power."
Alaric's gaze was cold. "Leave now, and tell your Order to stay out of the Darkwood. This place is under my protection."
The first scout drew his weapon, his stance tense. "You don't understand. We're here for the good of the village. This forest—its darkness is a threat to everyone."
"Your Order is the threat," Alaric replied. "You don't understand the balance here. The darkness isn't your enemy, but if you continue to provoke it, it will be."
The second scout hesitated, looking between Alaric and his companion. "Maybe we should heed his warning. We're not prepared for this."
But the first scout shook his head, his expression hardening. "The Order's will is clear. We cannot allow any rogue element to wield power over the people. Especially not one as tainted as him."
Without warning, the scout lunged, his blade flashing in the dim light. Alaric raised his hand, summoning a wall of shadow to deflect the blow. But the scout was relentless, pressing forward with a series of swift strikes, each one more forceful than the last.
The shadows responded instinctively, swirling around Alaric and hardening into a shield that absorbed the scout's attacks. With a flick of his wrist, Alaric sent a pulse of dark energy toward his opponent, forcing him to stumble back.
The second scout, clearly uncertain, glanced at his companion. "We need to retreat! We're outmatched here."
But the first scout snarled, refusing to back down. "Coward! The Order demands—"
Alaric raised his hand, and the shadows surged forward, encasing the scout in a cocoon of darkness. He struggled, his movements frantic, but Alaric held him firmly, his expression one of grim resolve.
"Tell your Order," Alaric said softly, his voice cold and unyielding, "that Elden Hollow is under my protection. If they set foot in this forest again, they will answer to me."
With a wave of his hand, he released the scout, who fell to the ground, gasping for breath. The second scout quickly helped his companion to his feet, casting a fearful glance at Alaric.
"Leave," Alaric commanded. "And never return."
Without another word, the scouts fled, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. Alaric watched them go, a sense of satisfaction mingling with the weight of his decision. He knew that this act of defiance would likely earn him the full wrath of the Order, but he couldn't allow them to disturb the balance he was fighting to protect.
As he turned to leave, he felt the warmth of the relic against his chest, a reminder of the light he bore amidst the darkness. And though he knew his path was fraught with danger, he walked with renewed purpose, determined to safeguard the fragile peace he had claimed.