The wind howled as it swept across the barren plains, tugging at cloaks and whipping the scent of smoke and rain into the air. Aric, Selene, and Kael moved with purpose, their faces set in grim determination. The night's events in the village had shown them a stark truth—the Shadowborn were not mere accidents, nor isolated threats. Someone was tracking them, someone with power and intent. The Wardens were no longer a distant danger. They were close, and they were hunting.
Aric's footsteps were steady, though inside, the storm of the veil swirled restlessly. Its whispers had quieted since the Shadowborn encounter, but he could still feel it watching, listening, waiting for a moment of weakness.
"Where are we headed?" Aric asked as they trudged through the muddy field, the remnants of rain glistening on the earth like darkened glass.
Kael turned, his sharp gaze locking onto Aric. "The Hold of Greywater. It's about three days' journey from here, deep in the eastern marshes."
Aric frowned. "Greywater? What's there?"
"A resistance," Selene answered, her voice firm. "Or at least, the closest thing to one. A group of people who've survived the Wardens' purge. Fighters, mages, mercenaries—those who have nowhere else to go. They hate the Wardens as much as we do."
Kael snorted. "Hate doesn't always mean they'll help. But it's the only place we can go. If we're going to strike back, we need allies, and Greywater's our best bet."
Aric nodded, though doubt gnawed at him. He still wasn't sure what his place in all of this was. Could he truly trust himself to face the Wardens? To control the veil and not lose himself in its depths?
He glanced at Selene, who walked ahead with the confidence of someone who had faced countless battles. Her posture was unshaken, her steps unwavering. Kael, for all his cynicism, moved with the assuredness of a hunter who knew exactly how to survive.
And then there was him—the unstable vessel of a force that neither he nor anyone else truly understood.
The Shadows in the Distance
By the time the sun sank below the horizon, the trio found themselves at the edge of a forest that bordered the eastern marshes. The air was thick and damp, carrying the scent of moss and stagnant water. The forest loomed ahead like a dark wall, its twisted trees gnarled and lifeless, their bark ashen and brittle. Aric shivered as he stared into the woods, the shadows stretching long in the twilight.
"Doesn't exactly look inviting," Kael muttered, drawing his bow as he scanned the darkness. "We're not the only ones out here."
Selene's hand hovered over the hilt of her dagger. "You feel it?"
Aric swallowed hard, his senses prickling. "Something's watching us."
The whispers of the veil stirred faintly, their voices soft but eager.
"They come for you."
"Let them taste our power."
Aric closed his eyes and pushed the voices back. "Shadowborn?"
"No," Selene said, her eyes narrowing as she searched the gloom. "This feels… different."
Kael frowned and crouched low, peering into the dark. "Bandits? Hunters? Doesn't matter. We keep moving."
Selene nodded, leading the way into the forest. Aric followed closely behind, his fingers brushing against the hilt of the short blade Kael had given him. The whispers grew quieter as they moved deeper into the woods, but a sense of unease lingered, heavy and oppressive.
The path wound through ancient trees, their roots gnarled and tangled across the ground. The forest felt unnatural—too still, too silent. Not even the call of a bird or the rustle of an animal disturbed the air. It was as if the world had stopped breathing.
Kael froze suddenly, raising a hand. "Hold."
Aric stopped, his breath catching in his throat. Ahead of them, the path split into two directions, but that wasn't what had caught Kael's attention.
The shadows at the base of a nearby tree moved.
Aric's eyes widened as a figure stepped into view—a man, or what had once been one. His skin was pale, his veins darkened like black ink beneath the surface. His eyes glowed faintly with an unnatural light, and his lips were curled into a feral grin.
Selene drew her dagger. "A wraith-touched."
The man tilted his head, his voice rasping like dry leaves. "You walk into darkness, children. Turn back."
Kael's arrow was nocked in an instant, aimed directly at the stranger's chest. "And you walk into my patience. Step aside."
The figure's grin widened, and his body flickered, like a shadow barely tethered to the earth. "The veil has chosen its vessel," he whispered, his glowing eyes turning to Aric. "But the vessel does not yet see."
Aric stepped back, his heart racing. "Who are you?"
The man didn't answer. Instead, he lifted one skeletal hand, and the shadows around him surged, spreading like an ink stain across the ground. More figures emerged—dozens of them—each twisted and malformed, their eyes glowing faintly.
Kael cursed. "Wraithspawn."
Selene's voice was sharp. "We need to move. Now."
But the wraith-touched man raised his hand again, and the shadows lunged.
The Battle in the Dark
Chaos erupted as the wraithspawn attacked. They moved with unnatural speed, their bodies shifting and flickering as they closed the distance. Aric drew his blade, but before he could strike, the veil inside him reacted.
Power surged through him, unbidden but unstoppable.
His hands glowed with that strange fusion of light and dark, and as the first wraithspawn lunged, Aric thrust his hand forward. A pulse of energy erupted from his palm, blasting the creature backward and shattering its shadowy form into mist.
Kael loosed arrows in rapid succession, each shot finding its mark and pinning the wraithspawn to the ground. "Don't get surrounded!"
Selene moved like liquid shadow, her blades slashing through the wraithspawn with deadly precision. "Aric! Stay focused!"
Aric gritted his teeth, the veil's power building with every strike. The whispers returned, louder now, urging him to let go.
"Unleash us!"
"The shadows will kneel!"
More wraithspawn surged forward, their claws outstretched, their forms impossible to predict. One leaped at Aric from the side, but he spun and slashed with his blade, severing the creature's arm. Another clawed at his back, but before it could strike, Kael's arrow found its head.
"Stay on your feet, Aric!" Kael shouted.
Aric staggered, his vision blurring as the power within him screamed to be let loose. The wraith-touched man stood at the edge of the battlefield, watching him with cold, glowing eyes.
"You cannot resist it forever," the man said softly. "The veil will claim you."
Aric clenched his fists, his voice rising in defiance. "It's my power!"
With a roar, Aric thrust his hands outward, and the energy inside him exploded. Light and shadow spiraled together, consuming the clearing in a blinding torrent. The wraithspawn shrieked as they were torn apart, their forms unraveling like smoke in the wind.
When the light faded, the forest was silent once more.
The wraith-touched man was gone, leaving only the lingering echoes of his laughter.
Aric fell to his knees, his body shaking from the effort. Selene and Kael ran to his side, their expressions a mix of concern and awe.
"You controlled it," Selene said softly.
Aric looked up, his breaths ragged. "Barely."
Kael grunted, scanning the treeline for any sign of further danger. "That wasn't random. They knew we were coming. Someone's watching us."
Selene nodded, her gaze dark. "Then we keep moving. We have to reach Greywater before the Wardens catch up."
Aric rose shakily to his feet, his fists clenching as he looked toward the shadowed horizon. The whispers in his mind were quiet now, but he could feel the veil's presence, patient and waiting.
"We're running out of time," he said.
Selene and Kael exchanged a glance before nodding.
Together, they turned toward the path ahead, where the distant marshes waited like a maw in the earth.
The marshlands stretched for miles, a desolate and unforgiving expanse shrouded in mist. Pools of black water reflected the silver-gray sky, and the ground squelched underfoot with each step. The air was damp, heavy, and filled with the faint stench of decay. Aric's boots were soaked through, the chill of the murky water creeping up his legs. He tried not to think about what might be lurking beneath the surface.
Selene led the way, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon. Every so often, she would pause and look back, as if checking for unseen followers. Kael followed close behind, his bow slung across his back, an arrow nocked loosely in his hand. Aric brought up the rear, his gaze fixed on the path ahead but his thoughts elsewhere.
The veil was restless again. It churned within him like a sea in a storm, quiet but insistent, never letting him forget its presence. The encounter with the wraith-touched man in the forest had rattled him more than he cared to admit. The figure's words echoed in his mind:
"You cannot resist it forever. The veil will claim you."
Aric's fingers twitched at his sides as he trudged through the muck, his jaw tight. He didn't want to let the veil claim him, but it was growing harder to keep it at bay. Every time he used its power, it became a little stronger, a little hungrier.
"We're close," Selene said, breaking the silence. She pointed to a line of jagged shapes barely visible through the mist. "Greywater Hold."
Aric squinted into the fog. The Hold looked like a ruin at first glance—crumbling stone towers and wooden palisades overgrown with moss and vines. A murky river wound through the marsh, forming a natural moat that surrounded the stronghold on three sides. The only way in appeared to be a narrow, rickety bridge that stretched across the water.
"It doesn't exactly scream 'resistance stronghold,'" Kael muttered, his eyes darting to the water. "More like a graveyard."
Selene smirked faintly. "That's the point. The Wardens don't come here. They think it's abandoned—cursed, even."
"Let me guess," Aric said, raising an eyebrow. "It is cursed, isn't it?"
Selene didn't answer. She simply turned and led them onto the bridge, the wood creaking ominously under their weight. Aric tried not to look down at the inky water below. The surface was still, but it felt alive, as if something down there was watching him.
They made it across without incident, but Aric couldn't shake the chill that had settled in his bones. Kael kept his bow in hand, his shoulders tense. He clearly felt it too.
At the far end of the bridge, a tall iron gate blocked their path. It was rusted and warped, its bars bent in places, but it was still secure. Selene stepped forward and whistled—a low, sharp note that echoed eerily through the ruins.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a grating screech, the gate began to open.
"Welcome to Greywater," Selene said quietly.
The Outcasts
Inside the walls, the Hold of Greywater was more alive than Aric had expected. Fires burned in makeshift braziers, their light flickering against the stone walls. Tents and lean-tos were scattered across the courtyard, forming a patchwork camp that housed dozens of people—men and women of all ages, many of them armed. Some wore battered armor, others simple rags, but all of them shared a hardened look in their eyes.
"Looks like you weren't exaggerating," Kael said, glancing around. "They are an army of outcasts."
"They're survivors," Selene corrected sharply. "They've seen what the Wardens do to people like us."
Aric felt the weight of dozens of stares as they made their way through the camp. Conversations hushed as they passed, and the people eyed him warily. He caught snatches of whispers—
"Is that him?"
"The boy they're hunting?"
"The one with the veil?"
Aric swallowed hard and kept his gaze forward. It was clear that Selene had connections here, but he felt no such welcome. To them, he was a danger—an unknown.
At the far end of the courtyard, a man stepped out of a large tent. He was broad-shouldered and grizzled, his face lined with scars and his left eye covered by a leather patch. His armor was mismatched but well-worn, and he carried a massive sword strapped to his back.
"Selene." The man's voice was deep and rough, like gravel sliding down a hill.
"Garric," Selene replied, inclining her head slightly. "It's been a long time."
Garric's single eye narrowed as he looked her over. "Long enough for you to come back with company." His gaze shifted to Aric, lingering on him with an intensity that made Aric's skin crawl. "This the one they're talking about? The boy with the power?"
"His name is Aric," Selene said firmly. "And he's not just 'some boy.' He's the one who can stop the Wardens."
Garric snorted. "Stop them, eh? I've heard that before." He stepped closer to Aric, looming over him like a storm cloud. "And what makes you so special, boy?"
Aric met his gaze, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I… I didn't ask for this power. But it's mine, and I'm going to use it to fight back."
Garric studied him for a long moment before letting out a bark of laughter. "Well, you've got guts, I'll give you that." He turned to Selene. "We'll talk inside. You, the boy, and the archer."
Kael muttered under his breath, "Great. I love meetings."
The Plan
Inside the tent, a table was covered with maps, scribbled notes, and scattered weapons. Garric stood at the head, his arms crossed as he listened to Selene recount everything that had happened—the attack in the village, the wraith-touched in the forest, and the Shadowborn hunting Aric.
When she finished, Garric let out a low whistle. "Shadowborn, wraith-touched… sounds like the Wardens are getting desperate."
"They're not desperate," Selene said. "They're winning. And if they get their hands on Aric, nothing will stop them."
Garric looked at Aric again, his gaze heavy with scrutiny. "So what do you want from us?"
"Help," Aric said quietly. "We can't fight the Wardens alone. You have fighters here—people who know how to survive. If we join forces, we might have a chance."
Garric grunted. "That's a lot of 'ifs,' boy. My people are tired. They've fought and bled for years, and most of them just want to live out their days in peace."
Selene stepped forward, her voice sharp. "There won't be peace if the Wardens win. You know what they'll do, Garric. They'll hunt every last one of us down, and they won't stop until we're all dead or worse."
Garric's jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
Aric took a step closer to the table, his voice steady. "If you don't fight now, there won't be anything left to fight for."
The tent fell silent. Garric stared at Aric, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his grizzled hair. "You're stubborn, I'll give you that." He looked at Selene. "We'll talk to the others. See who's willing to fight. But no promises."
Selene nodded. "That's all we ask."
As they stepped out of the tent, Kael muttered, "That went better than expected."
"Don't get too comfortable," Selene replied. "Garric's right—these people are tired. Rallying them won't be easy."
Aric glanced at the ruined towers of Greywater Hold, where fires burned like distant stars. The people here had already lost so much. Now, they were being asked to risk everything again.
He tightened his fists, the veil stirring faintly inside him.
"We'll give them a reason to fight," Aric said softly, his voice filled with determination. "We have to."