The sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows through the forest. Arlen's group pressed on in uneasy silence, the weight of the morning's skirmish lingering. Every so often, his eyes flicked to Calla, whose nervous energy had only grown since the fight.
She avoided his gaze, focusing on the path ahead, but Arlen wasn't fooled. Something was off, and he intended to get to the bottom of it.
As the group stopped to rest near a rocky outcrop, Arlen's patience wore thin. He tossed his pack to the ground and leaned against a tree, crossing his arms.
"Alright, Calla," he said, his tone casual but firm. "Time to spill."
Calla froze mid-step, her eyes darting to the others for support. Selene frowned but said nothing. Lyra merely raised an eyebrow, clearly curious about the brewing tension.
"I told you, it's nothing," Calla said, her voice defensive.
Arlen chuckled, the sound sharp and mocking. "See, the problem is, I don't believe you. And given the fact that we were just ambushed by mercenaries who seemed to know you, I'd say I have every right to be suspicious."
Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Why do you always assume the worst of me?"
"Because I know you," he replied, his grin fading. "You're clever, resourceful, and you've got secrets. Secrets that might just get us killed."
Calla glared at him, her cheeks flushing with anger. "Fine," she snapped. "You want the truth? That mercenary—he used to be part of my crew. Before I met you."
"Your crew?" Selene asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Calla sighed, rubbing her temples. "I wasn't always a 'noble thief,' alright? I used to run with a gang. We did jobs—smuggling, heists, the occasional assassination. That man, the one who recognized me—his name is Dreven. We had… history."
Arlen's lips curled into a smirk. "History, huh? How romantic."
Calla shot him a withering look. "Not the kind you're thinking of, idiot. He was dangerous, even back then. When I left the crew, I made enemies. Clearly, they haven't forgotten."
The revelation hung in the air like a storm cloud.
"You should have told us," Selene said, her voice cold.
"And what would you have done?" Calla snapped. "Turned me in? Kicked me out? It's not like any of us are saints here."
"She has a point," Lyra interjected, twirling a dagger between her fingers. "None of us are exactly squeaky clean."
Arlen held up a hand, silencing the bickering. "Alright, let's say I believe you. The question now is, what does Dreven want?"
Calla hesitated, then lowered her gaze. "If he's here, it's because of the shard. He's probably been hired to find it—or maybe he wants it for himself."
Arlen frowned, his mind racing. "That means more mercenaries could be on our trail. We need to move quickly."
Night fell as they continued their journey, the darkness around them feeling heavier than usual. Arlen couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched.
He slowed his pace, letting the others move ahead until only Lyra lingered near him.
"Something's bothering you," she said, her voice soft.
"Calla's story," he admitted. "It makes sense, but there's something she's not telling us."
Lyra smirked. "You mean, other than the whole 'ex-criminal' thing?"
"She's hiding something about the shard," he said. "And I intend to find out what."
Later that night, as the others slept, Arlen crept over to where Calla's pack lay. He worked quickly, searching through her belongings until his fingers brushed against a small, folded piece of parchment.
Unfolding it, he found a map marked with strange symbols and a note written in Calla's handwriting:
"The shard's true power lies in the temple ruins. Find the key, and the rest will follow."
Arlen's eyes narrowed.
"Well, well, Calla," he murmured. "What have you been up to?"
The next morning, the group continued their journey, unaware of Arlen's discovery. Calla seemed lighter, as if unburdened by her confession.
But Arlen wasn't fooled.
As they neared the edge of the forest, they stumbled upon an abandoned village. The buildings were in ruins, their walls scorched and crumbling.
"This place gives me the creeps," Lyra muttered, her daggers at the ready.
"We should keep moving," Selene said.
Arlen held up a hand, his eyes scanning the area. "Wait. There's something here."
They moved cautiously through the village, the air thick with an unnatural stillness.
Then, without warning, the ground beneath them trembled.
From the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in black, their face obscured.
"You've come far," the figure said, their voice low and menacing. "But your journey ends here."
The figure raised a hand, and the ground erupted in a wave of dark energy.
Arlen reacted instinctively, drawing his blade and charging forward. The others followed, their weapons at the ready.
The battle was chaotic, the dark energy swirling around them like a storm. Arlen's sword clashed with the figure's staff, sparks flying with every strike.
But as the fight wore on, he realized something chilling: the figure wasn't fighting to kill—they were stalling.
By the time the figure disappeared into the shadows, the village was in ruins, and the group was left battered and exhausted.
"We need to figure out who's behind this," Selene said, her voice trembling with anger.
"We will," Arlen said, his tone cold. "But first, we're going to the temple ruins."
Calla froze. "How do you—"
Arlen turned to her, his grin sharp and predatory. "You really thought I wouldn't find the map?"
Her face paled, but before she could respond, he held up a hand.
"Relax, Calla. I'm not mad." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But if you keep lying to me, I might have to reconsider."
As the group set off again, Arlen couldn't help but smile.
The game was getting interesting.