The morning sun painted the village in soft gold, its rays stretching over cobblestone streets and bustling shops. Rowen made his way into town with a spring in his step. The previous day's accomplishments still warmed him, and today, he was eager to train with Calder. But first, he had a few errands to run.
As he passed the baker's shop, the aroma of fresh bread wafted out, drawing his attention. A line of villagers stood chatting idly while waiting for their turn, their voices carrying snippets of news and gossip.
"...another one, gone just like that," an older woman murmured to the man beside her.
"Third this month," the man replied, shaking his head. "And no sign of them anywhere."
Rowen's ears perked up, but he didn't slow his pace. The villagers often spoke of strange happenings, though most of the time, it was just overblown rumors.
At the market, he stopped to purchase some apples and grain for the family. The vendor, a wiry man with a sun-weathered face, handed him a sack while glancing nervously toward the edge of town.
"Strange times we're livin' in," the man muttered.
Rowen raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
The vendor leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Folk disappearing, lad. Honest folk, too. Gwin's boy never came back from the fields last week, and now old Brann's daughter is gone. Poof. Like they never existed."
Rowen frowned, gripping the sack tighter. "Does anyone know what's happening?"
The vendor shook his head, his expression grim. "Some say it's bandits. Others say it's something worse."
"Worse?"
The vendor hesitated, then glanced around before whispering, "There's talk of a shadowy figure seen near the woods at night. They say it's not human—moves too fast, too quiet."
Rowen felt a chill crawl up his spine. "And no one's done anything about it?"
The vendor scoffed. "What can we do? The constable's useless, and the lord's guards care more about taxes than missing villagers."
Rowen nodded slowly, his mind churning as he moved on to the blacksmith's shop.
Inside, the clanging of metal on metal echoed, the air thick with the scent of molten iron. The blacksmith, a burly man named Torren, greeted Rowen with a nod.
"Here to pick up your father's order?" Torren asked, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Yeah," Rowen replied, handing over a small pouch of coins. "How's everything going?"
Torren shrugged. "Busy enough. But these disappearances... it's got folk jumpy. My apprentice didn't even show up this morning. His mother won't let him out of the house."
Rowen tried to keep his tone casual. "What do you think is going on?"
Torren grunted, lifting a wrapped bundle of tools onto the counter. "Don't know, don't care. My job's to keep my family safe, not go chasin' shadows. But I'll tell you this—if it's bandits or beasts, they'll regret messin' with this village once the hunters get organized."
Rowen thanked him and left, his thoughts heavier than before. As he walked back through the market, snippets of conversation floated past him:
"...won't let my children out after dark..."
"...heard it was a spirit, angry at the village..."
"...Lord Harren won't do a thing about it..."
Rowen's grip on his supplies tightened. Something was clearly wrong, and the tension in the village was palpable.
As he turned down a quieter street, Zoreth's voice drifted into his mind. "Curious, isn't it? The way fear spreads like wildfire. A few vanishings, and suddenly everyone's seeing shadows."
You think it's just rumors? Rowen thought back.
Not entirely, Zoreth replied. There's truth to be found in the whispers. The challenge is separating it from the noise.
By the time Rowen reached Calder's house on the outskirts of town, his mind was racing. The disappearances, the shadowy figure, the growing unease—it all felt like a puzzle missing too many pieces.
Calder greeted him with his usual gruff demeanor, but as they began training, Rowen couldn't shake the feeling that something darker was brewing in the village, something that might soon demand his attention.
The crisp morning air bit at Rowen's skin as he stepped into Calder's training yard, a wide expanse of dirt surrounded by thick trees. The veteran hunter stood near a wooden rack of weapons, sharpening a knife. Calder glanced up, his sharp eyes taking in Rowen with a mix of curiosity and approval.
"Back so soon?" Calder said, his gravelly voice cutting through the quiet. "Figured you'd be basking in your newfound glory."
Rowen shrugged, dropping his supplies off to the side. "I'm not done learning yet. I figured you'd have more to teach me."
Calder chuckled, sheathing his knife. "You figured right. Let's see what you're made of now that you've tasted real danger."
They started with the basics—footwork drills, stances, and precision strikes. Rowen moved with newfound confidence, his muscles remembering the fight with the Ignivulp. Calder didn't go easy on him, correcting his posture with a sharp word or a nudge of his staff whenever Rowen faltered.
After an hour, Calder stepped back and crossed his arms. "Enough of that. Show me what you've got with that new power of yours."
Rowen hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand. He focused on the warmth in his chest, the ember that Zoreth had taught him to kindle. A flicker of flame danced to life in his palm, casting a soft orange glow.
Calder's eyebrows shot up. "Fire, huh? Dangerous, but useful if you know what you're doing."
Rowen grinned, letting the flame grow slightly larger before extinguishing it. "It's not as easy as it looks. Took some practice to even get that much."
"Good," Calder said. "Control is everything with fire. Lose it, and you'll hurt yourself as much as your enemy. Now, let's see how you handle using it in a fight."
The two moved into a sparring stance, Calder armed with a wooden staff while Rowen relied on his agility and his fire ability. Calder came at him with quick, precise strikes, forcing Rowen to stay on his toes.
Rowen dodged a swing and thrust his hand forward, releasing a burst of flame. It wasn't large, but it was enough to make Calder step back and reassess.
"Not bad," Calder admitted, circling him. "But you're too focused on the flame. It's a tool, not your only weapon. Use it to complement your movements, not replace them."
Rowen nodded, adjusting his approach. He used smaller bursts of fire to force Calder into specific positions, creating openings for feints and dodges. The more he practiced, the more natural it began to feel.
After another grueling hour, Calder called for a break. Rowen collapsed onto the ground, panting and drenched in sweat.
"Not bad for your first time using an ability in combat," Calder said, handing him a flask of water. "You've got potential, but there's a long way to go."
As Rowen sipped the water, he decided to broach the topic that had been nagging at him all morning. "Calder, have you heard about the disappearances in the village?"
Calder's expression darkened, and he sat down on a nearby log. "Hard not to. People are scared, and for good reason. Losing that many folks in such a short time isn't normal."
"What do you think is causing it?" Rowen asked, leaning forward.
Calder rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Could be a lot of things. Bandits, wild beasts, maybe even someone inside the village. But..." He trailed off, his eyes narrowing.
"But what?" Rowen pressed.
"There's been talk of something unnatural," Calder said finally. "A shadowy figure spotted near the woods at night. Moves too fast to be human, too quiet to be an animal. I haven't seen it myself, but if there's any truth to those stories, we've got a bigger problem than bandits."
Rowen felt a chill run down his spine. "What would you do if it is something unnatural?"
Calder's gaze hardened. "Find it, figure out what it is, and take it down before it does more damage. But that's not your concern, Rowen. You've got enough on your plate learning to control that fire of yours. Leave the shadow-chasing to me and the other hunters."
Rowen nodded, but a part of him couldn't shake the feeling that this mystery would find its way to him sooner or later.
"Now," Calder said, standing and dusting off his hands, "get up. You've got a long way to go before you're ready to face anything like that."
Rowen groaned but pushed himself to his feet, ready to dive back into training. Whatever was happening in the village, he would be ready for it when the time came.