Lorcan watched the boy closely over the next few days. From his vantage points around the village, he observed Aiden moving about, living under the roof of one of the guards.
The boy played the part of an innocent, unlucky child remarkably well. There was no dark aura clinging to him, no whispers of necromantic energy emanating from his being.
To any ordinary onlooker, Aiden appeared to be nothing more than a quiet boy trying to adjust to life in the village.
But Lorcan wasn't ordinary. He knew how deceptive necromancers could be.
The more he observed, the more the boy's mundane actions grated on him. Aiden fetched water, carried firewood, and accepted meals from the kind-hearted villagers.
Nothing he did gave away any sign of the dark arts. It was almost too perfect, too clean, as though the boy had deliberately erased every trace of his abilities.
Yet, there were inconsistencies Lorcan couldn't ignore. The guards' story about how they had effortlessly slayed a group of undead nagged at him.
"Undead," Lorcan muttered to himself, leaning against a shadowed wall as he watched the boy from a distance.
"They're not like some goblin or wolf pack. Their strength is formidable, their durability a nightmare. Even sluggish undead are a formidable threat. And a group of them? Only a seasoned adventurer might be able to kill them without breaking a sweat."
He replayed the guards' boastful words in his mind.
"Me and the lads took care of those monsters without breaking a sweat."
Lorcan's lips curled into a bitter smirk. Either those guards were far more skilled than they let on, a fact Lorcan highly doubted or they were embellishing their story to hide the truth.
"No one fights a group of undead without struggle," Lorcan mused.
"Unless… someone else handled it for them."
His sharp eyes shifted back to the boy, now helping a villager carry a bundle of vegetables. There was no malice in his movements, no trace of anything unnatural.
But there was something else that gnawed at him, something more unsettling than the possibility of the boy's abilities.
Why was there no trace of darkness around him?
All necromancers, no matter how skilled, carried the unmistakable mark of their craft. An aura of death that lingered like a shadow around their presence.
Even if they suppressed it, even if they were grandmasters in their art, that aura would always betray them to someone like Lorcan.
He had spent decades honing his senses, learning to recognize the faintest traces of necromantic energy. To him, it was as clear as a beacon in the night.
Yet this boy…
There was nothing.
No shadow of death, no flicker of cursed energy. Aiden's movements were light, his expressions genuine, and his presence as ordinary as the villagers around him.
He almost believed that the boy was really just someone who had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Almost.
But his instinct told him otherwise.
Every night, Lorcan reported back to his superior using a blue round crystal he kept tucked away in his subspace bag.
This wasn't an item just anyone could acquire. It was a rare, high-cost magical tool that mostly found within a successful adventurer.
Even a low-level communication crystal with a range of around 100 kilometers could cost as much as three months' worth of meals for an average family.
Lorcan activated the crystal, its surface glowing faintly as he channeled his magic into it. Moments later, the energy stabilized, forming a shimmering, translucent orb in the air. A voice crackled through the connection, calm and authoritative.
"Report," the voice commanded.
"The boy is peculiar," Lorcan said, his tone clipped and precise.
"No aura, no signs of necromantic energy. On the surface, he seems… ordinary."
A pause on the other end, followed by the steady hum of consideration.
"And yet, you remain suspicious."
"I do," Lorcan admitted.
"His behavior is subtle, but it raises questions. He's careful, intelligent for his age. Too calculated. I believe he's hiding something."
"Do you suspect the artifact is involved?"
"Possibly," Lorcan said, his gaze flickering toward the cottage where Aiden stayed.
"The rumors have drawn many here, and I wouldn't be surprised if this boy is somehow connected to it. The timing is too convenient."
"Proceed with caution, Ashveil. If the artifact is truly tied to necromancy, it must not fall into the wrong hands. Keep watch, and do not act without confirmation. Understood?"
"Understood," Lorcan replied, his jaw tightening.
Then, one night, under the veil of darkness, Lorcan perched silently on a sturdy branch at the top of a tree, his form completely hidden by an invisibility spell.
The moonlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting faint silvery streaks across the village. His keen eyes were locked on the cottage where the boy, Aiden, resided.
Hours passed with nothing unusual. Lorcan had begun to suspect this watch might be as uneventful as the last. Then, the door to the cottage creaked open. His sharp instincts flared to life.
Aiden emerged, shrouded in a hood that concealed most of his face. He carried a bag slung over one shoulder, the faint sound of supplies shifting within as he moved.
The boy's steps were cautious but deliberate, his head swiveling slightly as if ensuring no one noticed his departure.
Lorcan's eyes narrowed, and he felt a flicker of excitement beneath his otherwise stoic demeanor.
'Finally,' he thought.
'Something interesting is about to happen.'
Remaining perfectly still, Lorcan watched as Aiden slipped through the village streets. The boy's movements were clumsy, lacking the finesse of a practiced sneak. He avoided the faint pools of light from the street lanterns and attempted to stick to the shadows, but his inexperience betrayed him.
Now and then, he stepped on a dry branch, crunched through a pile of leaves, or accidentally kicked a loose rock, each sound briefly breaking the stillness of the night as if announcing his presence.
Lorcan watched with disappointment, his sharp eyes following Aiden's clumsy attempts at sneaking. As an expert in stealth and infiltration, witnessing the boy's clunky movements, stepping on branches, kicking rocks, and rustling leaves. Made him itch with frustration.
'This is painful to watch,' he thought,
gripping the branch he perched on. The urge to jump down and teach the boy the proper way to move stealthily gnawed at him.
'If he's going to sneak around, he could at least do it right.'
But Lorcan stayed put, suppressing his instinct to intervene. This wasn't the time for lessons. He needed to see where the boy was going and what he intended to do.
Still, he couldn't help but shake his head, muttering under his breath,
"That's the kind of sneaking that'll get him caught in five minutes."
He activated a subtle spell to sharpen his senses, ensuring he wouldn't lose sight of the boy even as he moved farther from the heart of the village.
When Aiden reached the edge of the village and slipped into the forest, Lorcan silently followed, leaping effortlessly from branch to branch like a shadow.
The forest grew darker as they ventured deeper, the sounds of nocturnal creatures adding an eerie undertone to the quiet pursuit.
Aiden, oblivious to the presence behind him, continued his journey, his determination evident in the way he moved.
Lorcan's interest deepened.
'What are you up to, boy?' he thought, his eyes glinting as he followed silently, anticipation building with every step.