Rowan was jolted awake by the sound of something snapping in the woods. It was like a distant crack of thunder, sharp and sudden, followed by the unsettling silence that followed a warning. He sat up quickly, his heart hammering in his chest as he fumbled for his sword. The soft rustling of leaves reached his ears, and his body stiffened.
The clearing was still bathed in the soft, silver light of the moon, but the shadows between the trees seemed darker, deeper than before. There was something unnatural about the way the darkness lingered.
Beside him, Ardyn's movements were swift and practiced. He was already standing, sword drawn, his eyes scanning the forest edge. His posture was tense, alert.
Rowan's breath caught in his throat. "What is it?" he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. He strained his ears, but all he could hear was the soft rustling of wind through the trees and the occasional snap of branches.
Ardyn held up a hand, signaling for silence. Rowan obeyed, his senses on high alert. Time seemed to stretch in the air, each passing second feeling heavier, more loaded with tension. The night had fallen quiet once again, too quiet. Rowan could feel the weight of something unseen watching them. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and his grip on his sword tightened.
Suddenly, a voice, smooth and silky, cut through the silence.
"You're far from home, travelers."
Rowan froze, his eyes wide with alarm. The voice was not loud, but it felt like it was everywhere. It seeped into the very air around them, twisting its way through the night like a specter. Rowan's heart hammered in his chest as he instinctively placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it.
Ardyn's body tensed beside him, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The air seemed to hum with an electric charge, as if something ancient and powerful had stirred from its slumber.
A figure stepped out from the shadows between the trees, a silhouette barely visible in the dim light. Their features were hidden beneath a dark cloak, their figure tall and lean. But their eyes—Rowan could see their eyes gleaming in the moonlight, twin orbs of silver that gleamed with something both strange and unsettling.
For a moment, there was silence, and Rowan's gaze was drawn to the figure's presence. It felt wrong somehow, as if the person was not quite a person, but something more. Something else entirely.
The figure moved gracefully, almost fluidly, their cloak billowing in the wind like it was alive. They stepped forward into the clearing, their feet barely making a sound as they crossed the grass.
Ardyn didn't lower his sword. His voice was low and controlled as he spoke. "State your business."
The figure chuckled, the sound a strange mix of amusement and cold detachment. It echoed unnaturally in the night air. "My business is simple: survival. Much like yours, I imagine."
Rowan's gaze narrowed as he tried to make sense of this strange, enigmatic presence. Survival? The figure's words were cryptic, laced with an unspoken threat, but they didn't explain anything. Rowan's thoughts raced. What did this person want with them?
"What do you want with us?" Rowan found himself asking, his voice steady, though his nerves screamed otherwise. His hand tightened on his sword hilt, though he wasn't sure how much good it would do in the face of this unknown threat.
The figure turned their gaze on him, their silver eyes glinting, appraising him like a predator studying its prey. A faint smile curled on their lips, but there was no warmth in it—only something chilling. "You're carrying something very valuable," they said, their voice calm but laced with an edge. "Something that doesn't belong to you."
Rowan felt his blood run cold, his mind racing. His thoughts instantly turned to the shard. The Memory Echo. The artifact that had been tucked safely in Ardyn's pouch since the encounter with the Guardians. The shard that, for reasons they still couldn't fully understand, seemed to be tied to something greater, something dangerous.
"What are you talking about?" Rowan asked, his voice sharper now, his pulse quickening. He didn't know what game this figure was playing, but he had a sinking feeling they already knew more than he did. More than they had any right to know.
The figure tilted their head slightly, as though Rowan's confusion entertained them. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, boy. You carry the key to things you cannot possibly comprehend. Things that should never be released. Should never be touched."
Rowan's eyes flicked to Ardyn, but the mercenary's expression was unreadable. Ardyn didn't seem surprised at all by the figure's words, as though this encounter was something he had anticipated. But Rowan didn't know what to make of it. He wasn't sure if they were being threatened or warned, or both.
"I don't know what you think you're getting at," Rowan said slowly, trying to steady his breath, his grip tightening on his sword. "But we're not just handing over the shard to some stranger in the woods."
The figure's smile widened, their silver eyes gleaming in the dark. "Not yet, perhaps," they said, their voice laced with a strange, knowing quality. "But you will. You all will, in the end."
Ardyn stepped forward then, his posture more menacing than before. "What do you want with the shard?" he demanded, his voice low, practically a growl.
The figure's expression remained unchanged. "That shard is a key," they said softly, almost as though speaking to themselves. "And keys open doors. Doors that lead to things that should have remained locked away."
Rowan felt his heart race. Doors? What kind of doors was this person talking about? What could possibly be worse than the chaos they had already encountered in this world?
The figure's gaze darkened, their smile fading into something colder. "You've already disturbed the balance, you know. The moment you took that shard, you sealed your fate. That power will draw attention. It always does."
Rowan's mind swirled with questions, but before he could voice another one, the figure spoke again. "I'm not here to kill you, travelers. At least, not yet." Their tone was unsettlingly calm, as though their words were chosen with deliberate care. "But if you continue to carry that shard, you will make enemies. Enemies who won't care if you live or die. Enemies who will stop at nothing to possess it for themselves."
Rowan swallowed hard. "Who are these enemies?"
The figure didn't answer directly. Instead, they gave a shrug, one that seemed to hold all the weight of the world. "That's not important right now. What matters is this: You need to destroy it. While you still can."
"Destroy it?" Rowan echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Why would we destroy it? We need to understand it. We don't even know what it is."
The figure's lips curled in an almost pitying smile. "That's the problem, boy. You think you understand it. You think you can control it. But power like that never stays in the hands of those who think they know best. It always falls into the wrong ones." Their eyes darkened. "And when that happens, there's no going back."
Ardyn finally spoke, his voice steady but edged with suspicion. "And you're just going to let us go? After giving us this 'advice'?"
The figure's eyes flicked to the sword in Ardyn's hand, and their lips curled upward again, but this time, the smile was colder, sharper. "I've said what I needed to say. The rest is up to you."
Before either of them could respond, the figure turned and melted back into the shadows, disappearing as effortlessly as they had appeared. There was no sound of their movement, no trace of their presence—just the fading echo of their words.
Rowan's heart was still pounding in his chest, and he could feel the weight of the shard pressing down on him, even though it was still tucked safely in Ardyn's pouch. What was that? Who were they? And why had they left them with nothing but a cryptic warning?
Ardyn was silent for a long moment, staring into the trees where the figure had disappeared. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and grim. "We need to get moving. We're not alone anymore."
Rowan nodded, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He had no idea what was coming, but he knew one thing for sure: The moment they had taken that shard, they had crossed a line. And now, there was no turning back.