The sharp clang of metal against metal echoed through the bustling streets of Vaeloria, the City of Three Suns. Located on the eastern edge of the Western Continent, Vaeloria stood as a symbol of survival and renewal in the Seventh Era. Its towers, crafted of white marble and enchanted steel, glittered in the midday light, reaching toward the heavens as if defying the shadows of the Sixth Era's chaos.
At the heart of the city, just beyond the market square, lay the sprawling headquarters of the Elyssian Adventurer's Guild. It was a hive of activity, a sanctuary for the bold, the desperate, and the power-hungry alike. Merchants barked prices for monster hides and rare ingredients while adventurers, clad in mismatched armor and brimming with bravado, jostled for attention at job boards plastered with notices of bounties, expeditions, and escort missions.
The smell of roasted meat mixed with the pungent tang of iron, blood, and sweat, saturating the air.
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In a quiet corner of the guildhall, a figure sat cloaked in shadow despite the light filtering through the grand stained-glass windows. Her leather armor bore the scars of countless battles, and the hilt of a dagger peeked out from beneath her dark green cloak. Averia Silvertongue, a half-elf known for her sharp tongue and sharper blades, nursed a cup of mead as she scanned the bustling hall.
Unlike the adventurers around her, she didn't jostle for jobs. She didn't need to. Averia wasn't a common adventurer. She was a Seeker, a high-ranking guild member whose purpose wasn't to fetch lost items or slay run-of-the-mill monsters. Seekers were tasked with uncovering the unknown—ancient ruins, forgotten dungeons, and, occasionally, things better left buried.
And Averia had just returned from one such mission.
She grimaced, the memory of the Rift Zone expedition still fresh in her mind. They had lost two men—someone that had been there for a long time in her party, when the ground shifted beneath their feet, dropping them into a chasm that wasn't there moments before. The magic in the air had been thick, suffocating, and wrong. And the whispers…
She shook her head, taking a long sip of her drink to drown out the lingering unease. No one believed her when she spoke of the whispers. Not the guildmaster, not her fellow Seekers, not even the archmage who occasionally consulted the guild on magical anomalies.
"They're just echoes," they had said. "Residual energy from the Rift."
But Averia knew better. Echoes didn't seep into your dreams. They didn't crawl beneath your skin or linger in the edges of your vision like a shadow you couldn't catch.
"These whispers, I'll get to the bottom of this… for them."
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Her musings were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots on the wooden floor. She glanced up, her sharp emerald eyes narrowing as a figure approached. He was tall, with broad shoulders and the unmistakable air of someone who thought himself important. His armor gleamed, polished to perfection, and the sigil of the Lumineth Theocracy—a golden sunburst encircling a sword—was emblazoned on his chest plate.
One of these stuck-up knights again
"Lady Silvertongue," he greeted, his tone dripping with disdain. "You're a hard woman to find."
"That's the point," Averia replied, leaning back in her chair. She didn't bother to hide her irritation. "What does a holy knight of Lumineth want with a Seeker? Let me guess—you've misplaced another relic and want us 'commoners' to fetch it for you?"
The knight's jaw tightened, but he maintained his composure. Eyes twitching. "This isn't about relics. It's about the Rift Zone you recently returned from."
Averia's smirk faded, replaced by a wary frown. "What about it?"
The knight glanced around the hall before leaning in closer. "We've received reports of… unusual activity in the area. Creatures behaving erratically. Magical anomalies. And then there's this."
He reached into a satchel at his side and pulled out a small object wrapped in cloth. Placing it on the table, he carefully unfolded the fabric, revealing a shard of obsidian-like stone. Its surface shimmered with faint, shifting patterns, as though it were alive.
Averia's blood ran cold. She had seen a similar stone deep within the Rift. It had been embedded in the wall of the chasm, pulsating with a faint light that seemed to sync with her heartbeat. She had tried to ignore it, to convince herself it was just another magical oddity. But seeing it here, in the hands of a Lumineth knight, made her stomach twist.
"Where did you get this?" she demanded, panicked, her voice low.
The knight hesitated. "It was found near the eastern edge of the Forest of the Forgotten Sanctum."
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Averia's eyes widened. "The Sanctum? No one goes near that place. It's a death trap."
"Precisely," the knight said, his tone grim. "And yet, this was found just outside its borders. We believe there's a connection between the Rift and the forest—a thread tying them together."
Averia leaned back, her mind racing. The Forest of the Forgotten Sanctum was a place of legend and fear, said to be filled with untold treasures and horrors in equal measure. Many had ventured into its depths, but few returned. Those who did spoke of strange phenomena—trees that moved when unobserved, creatures with unnatural features, and whispers that seemed to come from the very air.
The guild had largely avoided the forest, deeming it too dangerous even for high-ranking adventurers. But if the Sanctum was connected to the Rift…
"What do you want from me?" Averia asked, her voice cautious.
The knight straightened; his expression solemn. "We need someone to investigate the forest. Someone with your expertise. If there's a threat lurking there, we must identify it before it spreads."
"And if I refuse?"
The knight's eyes hardened. "Then we'll send someone else. But considering your reputation, I thought you might prefer to take the lead."
Averia stared at the obsidian shard, its shifting patterns hypnotic. She didn't trust the knight, or his motives, but the mention of the Sanctum stirred something in her—a mix of curiosity, dread, and a flicker of determination.
"Fine," she said finally, draining the last of her mead. "I'll take a look. But if I find out you're withholding information, I'll make sure you regret it."
The knight inclined his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
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As the knight left, Averia remained seated, her gaze fixed on the shard. Her hand brushed against the hilt of her dagger, a subconscious gesture of reassurance. The forest called to her, its mysteries and dangers lurking just beyond the horizon.
And though she didn't know it yet, her journey into the Forest of the Forgotten Sanctum would bring her face-to-face with a creature unlike any she had ever encountered—a creature small, fluffy, and far more dangerous than it appeared.
Far away, deep within the forest, a faint pulse emanated from an ancient orb, its glow flickering like a heartbeat. "OI, what is it again?!"
The world was shifting, threads of fate intertwining as forces both seen and unseen prepared for the trials to come.
The Seventh Era was an age of reclamation, but some legacies were never meant to be unearthed.