The moon hung low in the night sky, its pale light casting an eerie glow over the grassy plains. The group's pace had slowed as the day stretched into evening, exhaustion setting in after hours of walking. The distant hoot of an owl punctuated the silence, and for a moment, the world felt calm.
Until the smell of smoke hit them.
Kael was the first to notice, his steps faltering as the acrid scent reached his nose. He glanced toward the horizon and froze. Thin tendrils of smoke rose into the sky, illuminated by the faint glow of flames licking at the edges of the distant treeline.
"Do you smell that?" he asked, his voice tight.
Aria stopped abruptly, her sharp eyes narrowing as she scanned the horizon. "Smoke," she confirmed, her tone clipped. "And it's coming from where the village should be."
Jane stepped forward, her expression shifting to one of alarm. "No," she whispered, her hand instinctively gripping the hilt of her weapon. "It can't be…"
A scream pierced the air, distant but unmistakable. It was followed by another, then another, the cries of terror echoing across the plains. The group exchanged a glance, their exhaustion forgotten as adrenaline surged through their veins.
"We need to move," Merrick said urgently, his voice steady but firm. "Now."
They broke into a sprint, their packs jostling against their backs as they raced toward the village. The smell of smoke grew thicker with every step, the faint glow of fire becoming brighter and more menacing as they closed the distance. Kael's heart pounded in his chest, the sound of his own breath mixing with the distant cries of the villagers.
As they crested the final hill, the full horror of the scene unfolded before them.
Alsta was engulfed in chaos. Flames danced along the rooftops of the small houses, their orange light illuminating the streets below. Figures darted through the village—some running for their lives, others chasing after them with weapons raised. The sounds of clashing steel, shouts, and terrified screams filled the air, a cacophony of violence and despair.
Kael's stomach twisted as he took in the destruction. The once peaceful village, the place he had come to know as a second home, was now a battlefield. His mind raced, images of Lysa, Meryn, and the others flashing before his eyes. Are they still alive? Did they get out?
"It's already started," Aria said grimly, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword. "We're too late."
"No," Kael said, his voice shaking but resolute. "We're not too late. We can still help."
Thorne nodded, his usual grin replaced by a rare look of determination. "Let's do what we can."
Jane hesitated for only a moment before drawing her weapon, her gaze steely. "Stick together. We don't know who or what we're dealing with."
Merrick's expression was grim as he unsheathed his sword. "Stay sharp. Watch each other's backs."
Kael's hand drifted to his sleeve, where the Crimson Dagger rested against his arm. Its hum was louder now, more insistent, as if it could sense the carnage ahead. He hesitated, his breath hitching as a wave of dread washed over him. Not now. I can't use it. Not unless I have to.
Another scream jolted him from his thoughts, and he clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus. The group descended the hill, their weapons ready as they charged into the chaos, determined to save what they could.
The group entered the village cautiously, their weapons drawn and their steps deliberate. The acrid stench of smoke and charred wood hung heavy in the air, stinging their noses and making their eyes water. The once-bustling streets of Alsta were unrecognizable, littered with debris, scorched remains, and the lifeless bodies of villagers and Berethia's men alike.
Kael's heart pounded as he surveyed the devastation. Flames crackled softly, licking at the edges of broken homes, but the chaos of the attack was gone. The village was eerily quiet, the only sounds the creaking of burning wood and the faint whisper of the wind.
"Where is everyone?" Jane whispered, her voice barely audible as her eyes darted around the ruined village.
Aria's grip on her sword tightened, her sharp gaze scanning every shadow. "This doesn't feel right. Be on your guard."
Merrick stepped forward cautiously, his expression grim. "It's like the fight burned itself out. There's no movement, no signs of life."
Kael's stomach churned as he stepped over the body of a villager, their eyes frozen in terror. He recognized the face—a shopkeeper who had always greeted him with a warm smile. Now, they were just another casualty, their blood staining the cobblestones.
"Dead," he muttered, his voice hollow. "They're all… dead."
Thorne knelt beside one of the bodies, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by a somber intensity. "Villagers and soldiers alike," he said, his voice low. "They didn't spare anyone."
Jane moved toward the fountain at the center of the village, her footsteps slow and hesitant. The water, once clear and sparkling, was now dark and murky, filled with ash and debris. She stared into it, her hands trembling as the weight of the scene settled over her.
Kael followed, his gaze darting from one lifeless form to the next. He recognized more faces—people he had shared meals with, laughed with, built a life with. Each one was a dagger to his heart, a reminder of the peace he had so desperately clung to and the brutality that had torn it away.
"Lysa," he whispered, his voice cracking. He turned, his eyes scanning the carnage desperately. "Meryn. Where are they?"
"They could've escaped," Merrick offered, though his tone was heavy with doubt. "Not everyone could've stayed."
Kael shook his head, his fists clenched at his sides. "They wouldn't have left without a fight. Not Meryn. Not Lysa." He gestured toward the bodies of Berethia's men scattered among the villagers. "They fought back."
Aria stepped closer, her expression grim. "But they were outnumbered. Overpowered."
Thorne rose from where he'd been crouching, his brows furrowed in confusion. "This doesn't make sense," he said, gesturing to the bodies. "If Berethia's men were winning, why are so many of them dead too? It's like something else happened here."
Jane's eyes flicked to Kael, her gaze sharp but unreadable. "It's too quiet," she said softly. "We need to find answers."
Kael swallowed hard, the hum of the Crimson Dagger growing louder in his mind. It was as if the blade was reacting to the death and destruction around him, feeding off the despair that clung to the air. He tried to block it out, to focus on the task at hand, but the weight of the dagger against his arm was impossible to ignore.
"What could've done this?" Kael asked, his voice shaking as he looked around the ruined village. "What could've killed all of them?"
No one had an answer.
The group pressed forward cautiously, their eyes darting to every shadow, every flicker of flame. The silence was suffocating, the once vibrant village now a graveyard. And though none of them said it aloud, they all felt the same thing.
Something wasn't right.
The group continued their slow, somber march through the decimated village, the silence pressing down on them like a weight. The crackle of flames and the occasional groan of collapsing wood were the only sounds, a grim backdrop to the devastation that surrounded them. Every step felt heavier, every breath harder to take as the reality of Alsta's destruction sank in.
Kael's heart was a storm of emotions—grief, rage, guilt—all swirling together in a suffocating mix. His eyes scanned every body they passed, searching desperately for any sign of Lysa or Meryn. Please, let them be alive, he thought, the words repeating in his mind like a mantra. Please.
Ahead of him, Jane paused, her sharp intake of breath drawing the group's attention. She raised a hand, motioning for them to stop as she stepped forward slowly. "Over there," she said, her voice tight.
Kael's gaze followed hers, and his heart sank.
Lying crumpled near the blackened remains of a forge was Bren, his body motionless and battered. The older man's face was pale, his once-strong frame now a lifeless husk. His hands, calloused from years of working the forge, were still clutching a hammer, as if he'd gone down fighting.
"No," Kael whispered, his chest tightening as he stumbled forward. He dropped to his knees beside Bren, his trembling hands hovering over the man's body, afraid to touch him. "No, no, no…"
Merrick and Jane approached cautiously, their expressions grim. Merrick knelt beside Kael, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Kael…"
Kael shook his head violently, his vision blurring with tears. "He can't be… He—he's Bren. He's supposed to…" His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms.
Jane stepped closer, her eyes filled with sympathy as she looked down at Bren's lifeless form. "Kael," she said softly, her voice steady but heavy with sorrow. "I'm so sorry."
Kael's chest heaved as he fought to control his breathing. He reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against Bren's hand. The man who had been like a father to him, who had taught him so much, was gone. The realization hit him like a blow, and he doubled over, his forehead pressing against the cool dirt.
"I wasn't here," Kael choked out, his voice muffled. "I wasn't here to protect him, to protect any of them."
Merrick tightened his grip on Kael's shoulder, his own expression etched with sadness. "You couldn't have known, Kael. None of us could've."
Kael shook his head again, his tears falling freely now. "He didn't deserve this. None of them did."
Thorne and Aria stood nearby, their usual banter absent as they watched the scene unfold. Thorne's face was uncharacteristically serious, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Whoever did this," he muttered, his voice low and simmering with anger, "they'll pay. I'll make damn sure of it."
Aria's gaze remained fixed on Bren, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in the details. "This wasn't just an attack," she said quietly. "It was a slaughter. Bren fought, but look at his wounds. This was personal."
Jane frowned, her eyes flicking to Aria. "Personal? What do you mean?"
Aria gestured to the hammer still clutched in Bren's hand. "He didn't just fall in battle. He was targeted. Whoever led this attack made sure he went down."
Kael's fists clenched, his knuckles white as rage bubbled beneath his grief. The hum of the Crimson Dagger grew louder, insistent, as if feeding off his emotions. He closed his eyes tightly, willing the noise to stop, but it only grew more persistent.
"They're still out there," Kael said through gritted teeth, his voice low and trembling with anger. "Whoever did this—they're still out there."
Merrick nodded solemnly, rising to his feet. "And we'll find them, Kael. But not like this. You need to focus."
Kael looked up at him, his tear-streaked face filled with a mix of pain and fury. "I'll make them pay," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "For Bren. For everyone."
The group stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the loss settling over them like a shroud. Then, slowly, they began to move again, leaving Bren's body behind as they pressed deeper into the ruins of the village, determined to uncover the truth and face the monsters who had torn Alsta apart.
The devastation stretched on as the group moved deeper into the ruins of Alsta. Each step brought new horrors—faces Kael recognized, bodies of villagers who had once been his family. The flames continued their slow, destructive crawl through the village, casting flickering shadows that danced like ghosts over the carnage.
Kael walked in a daze, the weight of Bren's death pressing heavily on his chest. He felt hollow, his limbs moving on autopilot as if his body was leading him forward while his mind lagged behind. The hum of the Crimson Dagger was ever-present, faint but insistent, like a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
Jane walked beside him, her gaze scanning the destruction, while Merrick and the others took point. The silence between them was oppressive, broken only by the occasional crackle of flames or the distant groan of a collapsing building.
Then Kael saw her.
Lying crumpled near the remnants of the village well was Meryn, her silver hair matted with blood and dirt. Her body was twisted at an unnatural angle, her arms stretched out as if reaching for something—or someone. Beside her was Maela, the elderly healer Kael had grown fond of, her body eerily still.
Kael's breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, the world tilted. He stumbled forward, his knees hitting the dirt as he skidded to a stop beside them.
"No," he whispered, his voice shaking. "No, no, no…"
Meryn's chest rose and fell faintly, each breath shallow and labored. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy, but there was a spark of recognition when she saw him. Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but no sound came out.
"Meryn," Kael choked, his hands hovering over her as panic set in. "You're—you're going to be okay. We'll—we'll get help."
Jane knelt beside him, her face pale as she took in the scene. "Kael…" she started, but her voice faltered.
Meryn's trembling hand reached up, weak and unsteady, until it found Kael's. Her fingers wrapped around his loosely, her grip barely there. Kael grasped her hand tightly, his tears falling freely now as he leaned closer.
"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice breaking. "I wasn't here. I should've been here."
Meryn's lips curved into the faintest smile, her silver eyes locking onto his. For a brief moment, it was as if the chaos around them faded, leaving only the two of them in a quiet, bittersweet moment. She opened her mouth, her voice a whisper carried on her final breath.
"It's… okay…"
Kael's world shattered as her hand went limp in his, her chest stilling as the last traces of life slipped away. He stared at her, his tears blurring his vision, unable to process the reality before him.
"Meryn," he whispered, shaking his head. "Meryn, no. Please, don't…"
Jane placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her own eyes brimming with tears. "She's gone, Kael."
Kael's grip on Meryn's hand tightened, his shoulders shaking as grief consumed him. He glanced at Maela's body, her peaceful expression a stark contrast to the violence that had taken her life. These were people who had cared for him, who had given him a second chance when no one else would.
And now they were gone.
Merrick approached, his expression grim but steady. "Kael," he said softly, his voice cutting through the haze of despair. "We need to keep moving."
Kael didn't respond at first, his gaze fixed on Meryn's face, still framed by that faint, tragic smile. Then, slowly, he let her hand slip from his grasp and rose to his feet, his movements heavy and mechanical.
"Let's go," he said, his voice hollow. But inside, something had changed. The weight of his loss, the guilt of his absence, and the unrelenting hum of the Crimson Dagger pressed down on him, shaping him into something he wasn't sure he could control.
They left the well behind, the flames casting their long shadows as they pressed on into the heart of the ruins. And Kael walked with a new purpose, his grief simmering into something darker.
Kael's breathing was ragged as the group moved forward through the rubble-strewn streets. His eyes darted around frantically, searching every corner, every shadow for any sign of Lysa. The village was a graveyard, and each step felt like another nail driven into his hope.
"She has to be alive," Kael muttered under his breath, his voice trembling. "She has to be."
Jane, walking beside him, placed a steadying hand on his arm. "Kael, we'll find her," she said, her tone calm but firm. "You need to focus."
Kael shook his head, his thoughts spiraling. What if she's gone too? What if I'm too late again? The memories of Bren and Meryn's lifeless bodies flashed through his mind, and his heart raced, the weight of guilt and fear pressing down on him like a crushing tide.
"Kael, listen to her," Merrick said from up ahead, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "We'll cover more ground if we keep our heads."
Kael clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he forced himself to nod. He tried to steady his breathing, but the panic clawing at his chest was relentless. His mind screamed with possibilities, each one worse than the last.
The faint sound of footsteps brought the group to a sudden halt.
Kael's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the shadows. The faint crackle of flames seemed to grow louder in the silence, the oppressive stillness broken only by the faint rustling of the wind.
Then, a voice.
"Lover boy is here at last?" The words slithered through the air, smooth and venomous, dripping with mockery. "I'm so envious."
Kael froze, his entire body tensing as the voice echoed around them. It was unmistakable—syrupy sweet but edged with madness, a sound that sent a chill down his spine. His heart dropped into his stomach as the realization hit him.
Berethia.
Jane and Merrick exchanged a glance, their faces paling as recognition dawned on them. Aria's hand flew to the hilt of her sword, her sharp eyes scanning the ruins for the source of the voice. Thorne's grin vanished entirely, replaced by a grim seriousness that was rare for him.
"She's alive?" Jane whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "How?"
Kael didn't respond. His breathing quickened, and his fists clenched tighter at his sides. But it wasn't fear that gripped him—it was rage.
Pure, unbridled rage.
The Crimson Dagger hummed softly against his arm, its presence more insistent now, as if responding to the surge of emotion coursing through him. Kael's vision blurred at the edges, his focus narrowing to the singular thought that burned in his mind: Berethia.
"I'll kill her," Kael growled, his voice low and trembling with fury. "I swear, I'll kill her."
The group turned to look at him, their faces a mixture of shock and unease. But Kael didn't care. His grief, his guilt, his fear—all of it burned away, consumed by the fire of his rage as Berethia's laughter echoed around them, haunting and cruel.
She was close, and Kael was ready.