Dorin's nights were plagued by shadows, each dream fractured and restless. The cloaked figure from days before haunted him, echoing the words that had turned his life upside down. Each night, he could feel an unfamiliar pull—a flicker of something old and powerful inside him, waiting. He couldn't shake the sense that everything had shifted, that his life, once simple and steady, was slipping away.
The village was no longer a haven. Everywhere he went, the faces he'd known since childhood looked at him differently, wary and curious, as if they too sensed something was changing. Every time he took up his hammer in the forge, hoping to settle his mind with the rhythm of steel, he felt a creeping unease, as if the life he'd once known was closing in on itself, disappearing.
The soldiers, too, lingered in his thoughts—the king's soldiers who had come looking for someone just like him. Dorin knew now that his blood was no ordinary heritage, and the quiet life he'd led had merely been a cover. The fear they'd instilled in him hadn't faded; it was there in every cautious glance over his shoulder, in every quiet step he took down the familiar paths of the village.
One evening, as dusk settled over the forest, he ventured beyond the village outskirts, needing space, needing air. The trees stretched tall and solemn around him, casting long shadows over the ground. Dorin paused, listening to the quiet, the rustle of leaves mingling with his own heartbeat. For a moment, it felt as though he was truly alone, as though the world and all its burdens had fallen silent.
Then, he saw her.
She stood at the edge of the clearing, cloaked in twilight, her figure cutting through the shadows with a steady, unbroken stride. Her hair was dark, falling in loose waves around her shoulders, and her eyes gleamed in the fading light—sharp, calculating, and intense. There was something about her that made his pulse quicken, something that felt both familiar and foreign. She held herself with an air of authority that demanded his attention.
"Dorin," she said, her voice calm yet unyielding. It wasn't a question.
He swallowed, feeling an instinctual urge to reach for his dagger, though he doubted it would do much good. "Who are you?"
"My name is Seris," she replied, her gaze unwavering. "And I've been looking for you."
The words felt like a punch to his gut. "Why?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "The king's soldiers aren't the only ones seeking you, Dorin. There are others out there—powerful forces—who want to claim what's inside you for themselves. I'm here because I know what you are, and I know the danger that comes with it."
Dorin's pulse quickened. He didn't know her, didn't know her motives, yet something in her tone made it impossible to ignore her words. "Why should I trust you?" he asked, barely keeping the edge out of his voice.
Seris stepped closer, her gaze as sharp as the edge of a blade. "Because I know the cost of power. I know what it's like to be hunted, to have your life dictated by forces you can't control." Her expression softened, though her eyes held a dark intensity. "And because I know you're in over your head."
He wanted to deny it, to say he could handle it on his own, but the words wouldn't come. The weight of everything—the power, the secrets, the fear—pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. Still, he couldn't afford to trust a stranger. "What do you want from me?"
Seris's gaze didn't waver. "I want nothing from you, Dorin. But if you let me, I can help you understand what's inside you. I can teach you to control it, to wield it, before it consumes you." She paused, studying his face. "But that means you'll have to trust me, at least enough to listen."
He hesitated, the instinct to reject her offer warring with a deeper, gnawing need for answers. The cloaked figure's warnings rang in his mind, reminders of a destiny he hadn't asked for but couldn't escape. And here was someone offering a glimmer of understanding, a chance to grasp what was happening to him.
"I don't trust easily," he muttered, feeling a strange vulnerability in admitting it. "But I'm willing to listen."
A faint smile crossed her lips, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Good. That's all I ask."
She turned, gesturing for him to follow, and he fell into step beside her, his heart pounding as they ventured deeper into the forest. The trees closed around them, and the night air grew cooler, carrying the scent of earth and moss. They walked in silence for a while, until Seris stopped in a small clearing where the moonlight filtered through the branches, casting a pale glow over the ground.
"Power," she said, her voice low and steady, "is not a gift. It's a burden. And it comes at a price. The more you wield it, the more it will ask of you."
Dorin listened, his throat dry. "What kind of price?"
Seris looked away, her expression distant. "The kind that changes you. The kind that makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself." She turned back to him, her gaze piercing. "The power in your bloodline is ancient, tied to forces that are neither good nor evil—they simply are. But those who seek it will do anything to control it, and if you're not strong enough to hold your own, you'll become a pawn in their game."
He shivered, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. It was one thing to feel the power within him, to sense its potential, but another thing entirely to understand its consequences. He'd always thought of power as something distant, something that belonged to kings and heroes, not to someone like him.
"What do I have to do?" he asked, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Seris's expression softened, a flicker of approval in her eyes. "First, you need to learn control. The power inside you is like a river; if you try to contain it, it will overflow, but if you learn to channel it, to guide it, you can wield it as you choose."
Dorin took a steadying breath, feeling the enormity of her words sink in. "And what if I can't control it? What if… what if it consumes me?"
Her gaze was steady, unflinching. "Then it will consume you. And it will take everything you love with it." She paused, her tone softening. "But I believe you're stronger than that. I wouldn't have come if I didn't."
For a moment, her words hung in the air between them, a fragile thread of hope and trust. Dorin didn't know why she believed in him, didn't understand what had brought her to him, but he felt a strange comfort in her presence, as if he'd found someone who understood the turmoil within him.
"What do you get out of this?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Seris's gaze flickered, and for a brief moment, a shadow of sadness crossed her face. "Redemption," she said softly. "I know what it's like to lose control. And I know what it's like to live with the consequences." She looked away, her voice barely audible. "If helping you can prevent someone else from facing the same fate, then that's enough."
Dorin watched her, a strange sense of kinship forming between them. They were both scarred by power, both burdened by forces they hadn't chosen. And in that moment, he realized he didn't have to face it alone.
"I'll try," he said, the words feeling like a small promise, fragile yet real.
Seris nodded, her gaze steady and unwavering. "That's all I ask."
They stood in silence, the forest around them a quiet witness to the pact they'd formed. Dorin knew the path ahead would be difficult, that the price of power would weigh heavily on him. But with Seris by his side, he felt, for the first time, that he might be able to bear it.
The village was no longer a safe haven, but now, he had something else—a purpose, a guide, and perhaps, a chance to control the power within him. The darkness in his bloodline was still a mystery, a looming shadow, but he was ready to face it. And this time, he wouldn't be alone.