The forest grew thicker as Alaric ventured on, the canopy above blocking out even the faintest trace of light. Shadows twisted through the branches, their forms indistinguishable from the trees themselves, giving the impression that the forest was watching him, alive and aware. The mist clung closer here, curling around his ankles and trailing behind him like reluctant memories.
The encounter with the shadow figure weighed heavily on his mind. Its words echoed in his thoughts, a warning, but also a challenge: Seek the heart of Evershade. Alaric's grip tightened on his staff, and he could feel the emberlight pulsing within, flickering in tune with his own uncertainty.
As he walked, the memories he had been pushing away began to creep back. They always returned when he was alone, haunting the edges of his mind. He saw his mother's smile, his father's stern but gentle gaze, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees on that last morning before everything was taken from him. He had been just a boy when the shadows came to his village. He remembered the screams, the chaos, the darkness that swallowed his home.
But more than that, he remembered the feeling of helplessness. The emberlight had saved him that night, its warmth flaring to life just as the darkness had closed in, but it had been wild and uncontrollable. That was why he was here, he reminded himself—to understand, to learn how to wield this power so he would never feel that helplessness again.
Lost in thought, Alaric barely noticed the forest around him shifting, the trees thinning to reveal an ancient path carved into the earth, barely visible beneath layers of fallen leaves and vines. The path was marked by stones engraved with symbols that glowed faintly in the mist. These symbols were similar to those on his staff, their meaning just beyond his grasp, like a language he almost understood but couldn't quite read.
He knelt to examine one of the stones, running his fingers over its smooth surface. As his skin touched the engraving, a spark of emberlight pulsed from his fingers into the stone, and an image flashed in his mind—a vision of figures cloaked in armor, standing in a circle around a blazing fire. They chanted words he couldn't understand, but he could feel the power of their intent, a ritual of binding and protection.
The vision faded, leaving him breathless. This path, this place—it had a history, a purpose that was somehow connected to his own.
The sound of a twig snapping nearby jolted him from his thoughts. Alaric rose to his feet, scanning the forest. At first, he saw nothing but shadows and mist, but then he caught a glimpse of movement—a figure slipping between the trees, cloaked and hooded. His heart skipped. Someone was watching him.
"Who's there?" he called, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest.
The figure stopped, half-hidden behind a tree. Slowly, they stepped into view, lowering their hood to reveal a woman with sharp, intelligent eyes and hair the color of autumn leaves. She held a bow in one hand, the other resting on a quiver of arrows strapped to her back.
"Alaric," she said, her voice low but clear. She spoke his name as if she had known it for years, though he was certain he had never seen her before.
He frowned, gripping his staff. "How do you know my name?"
The woman studied him for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. "I know a great many things, Alaric. The path you walk is dangerous. The shadows you've encountered are only a taste of what lies ahead."
"Who are you?" he asked, his wariness growing.
"My name is Calia," she replied, her gaze steady. "I've been tracking the shadow creatures in this forest for some time. They're drawn to the emberlight you carry, and they won't stop until they've taken it from you."
Her words sent a chill through him. "Why? What do they want with it?"
She sighed, glancing down at the path beneath their feet. "The emberlight is not just a weapon. It's a force older than this land, tied to both life and death. Those creatures, and others like them, seek to harness its power for their own dark purpose."
Alaric's grip on his staff tightened. "Then they're not the only ones."
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, followed by a hint of respect. "I can see you're not easily swayed. Good. You'll need that strength if you're to reach the heart of Evershade."
He narrowed his eyes. "How do you know about that?"
"I've walked this path before," she said simply, her gaze distant as though recalling a memory. "But I didn't come as far as you intend to go. I didn't have the strength to face what lay beyond."
Alaric's curiosity deepened, but he kept his questions to himself. There was something in her voice, a pain that lingered just beneath the surface, that warned him against prying too deeply.
She stepped closer, her tone softening. "Alaric, if you're truly set on this path, then know that you won't survive it alone. I can guide you, help you navigate the dangers ahead. But know this—there will come a time when you must decide whether the power you seek is worth the price you'll pay."
He hesitated, weighing her words. He had spent so long alone, depending on no one, driven by his own purpose. But something in her gaze told him she understood the burden he carried, that she, too, had walked a path shadowed by loss.
"Fine," he said at last. "But if you're coming with me, we need to move fast. There's something waiting at the heart of Evershade, and I intend to find it."
Calia nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. "Then let's not waste any time."
Together, they set off down the ancient path, the mist swirling around them like a living thing. For the first time since he had entered the forest, Alaric felt the weight of his journey lift slightly.