In the land of Erelith, where jagged peaks pierce the sky and fog-laden forests whisper of forgotten times, the village of Black Hollow clung to the foot of the Eldergloom Mountains like a wary traveler to an uncertain path. The village was small, wrapped in silence broken only by the creak of wooden shanties and the howls of wind that sang mournful dirges through narrow alleys.
But it was not the wind that set the people's teeth on edge; it was the Shadowmark.
Legends spoke of it as an ancient curse—a mark that appeared upon those chosen to be lured into the depths of the Eldergloom's forbidden heart, never to return. None alive could claim to have seen the mark and lived to tell the tale, but the stories were whispered with such fearful reverence that no one dared venture into the woods after dusk.
Reiner Corvus stood at the edge of Black Hollow, the night thick with the chill of early autumn. He was a hunter by trade, with eyes sharp as a hawk's and a bow strung tight across his back. Yet even he felt a shiver skitter down his spine as he looked toward the undulating sea of black trees that bordered the village. Rumors of disappearances and strange wails had been growing. The woods had become a mouth that swallowed men whole.
Reiner glanced down at his hand, roughened by years of drawing bowstrings and skinning game. Tonight, it bore the Shadowmark: a dark, sinuous pattern like the tendrils of ivy etched into his skin. He had woken to find it there, pulsing faintly under the moonlight, and dread had gripped him like an iron vice.
"Reiner," a voice called, pulling him from the trance. It was Elara, the village healer. Her long auburn hair was streaked with silver, and her eyes were a clear, piercing green that seemed to peer into the soul. She stood at the threshold of her cottage, the light of a lone candle casting her face in shadow and flame. "You've been marked." Her words were not a question; they were a sentence.
He nodded, jaw clenched. "I must go."
"You don't have to," she said, her voice carrying a tremor. "No one will think less of you if you hide. Let others venture where only madness lies."
Reiner met her gaze, the fire in his heart kindled by defiance and the pull of destiny. "If I run, others will be taken. I'll find what's inside the Eldergloom—what's behind the mark—or die trying."
Before Elara could protest, a guttural roar echoed from the forest, sending a flock of ravens spiraling into the night sky. The sound rattled Reiner's bones, and he felt the mark on his hand sear with sudden, burning pain. It was as if the forest itself had heard his declaration and issued a challenge.
And so, without another word, he stepped beyond the village's edge and into the darkness, where shadow and fate entwined.