The night was heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the faint tang of iron. Blackthorn's outskirts, once quiet, had grown restless, a place where shadows lingered too long, and whispers seemed to rise from the ground itself. Eleanor Thorncroft adjusted the leather gloves covering her hands, the faint glow of the mark beneath pulsing in sync with her heartbeat.
"Are you sure about this?" Lena asked, her voice tense. She gripped her bow tightly, her knuckles white.
Eleanor gave a small nod, her eyes scanning the treeline. "If the cult's gathering tonight, we can't let them go unchecked. They've already taken too much from this village."
"I still think we should have waited for more support," Seraphae muttered, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade. Her fiery red hair glinted faintly in the moonlight as she scanned their surroundings. "Charging in like this feels reckless."
"We don't have time," Eleanor said firmly. "If they're planning something, we need to stop it before it takes root."
Ahead, the flicker of torchlight danced through the trees. The faint hum of chanting reached their ears, an eerie melody that made the hair on the back of Eleanor's neck stand on end.
"They're close," Lena whispered, notching an arrow.
The group moved cautiously, stepping lightly to avoid snapping twigs or disturbing the damp underbrush. As they crept closer, the chanting grew louder, more insistent. The torches revealed a clearing where a group of robed figures stood in a loose circle around a crude altar.
At the altar's center, a shard of obsidian-like stone pulsed with a sickly, rhythmic glow. Eleanor's mark burned in response, a fiery heat crawling up her arm.
"Do you feel that?" Seraphae asked, her voice low.
Eleanor nodded, swallowing hard. "It's reacting to the shard."
Before they could devise a plan, one of the cultists raised their arms, their voice booming over the chanting. "Brothers and sisters! Tonight, we call upon the Obelisk's blessing to strengthen us. Through its fragments, we shall wield the power to reshape this world!"
A roar erupted from the gathered cultists, their fervor palpable.
Eleanor's grip on her dagger tightened. "We can't let them continue."
Lena glanced at her. "What's the plan?"
"Disrupt the ritual," Eleanor said. "If we can scatter them, we can deal with the shard later."
Seraphae smirked, drawing her blade. "Disruption's my specialty."
The attack began with a swift arrow from Lena's bow, striking the robed leader's shoulder and sending him stumbling backward. Chaos erupted as Eleanor and Seraphae charged into the clearing.
Eleanor's mark flared, the fiery energy surging through her veins. She raised her gloved hand, a stream of fire arcing toward the nearest cultist. The flames struck true, scattering the robed figures as they scrambled to avoid the blaze.
The shard on the altar pulsed violently, its sickly glow spreading tendrils of light across the ground. One of the cultists cried out, their body contorting unnaturally as the tendrils latched onto them.
Seraphae slashed through a pair of cultists trying to flank Eleanor, her movements quick and precise. "This shard's doing more than just sitting there! We need to end this now!"
Eleanor focused her energy, another wave of flame surging from her mark. It struck the altar, but the shard remained unscathed, its glow intensifying.
A guttural growl echoed through the clearing, freezing everyone in place. From the shadows, a hulking figure emerged—a chaos beast, its form shifting and writhing as though it were made of smoke and sinew. Its glowing eyes locked onto Eleanor, and it charged.
"Eleanor!" Lena shouted, loosing another arrow that barely slowed the beast.
Eleanor raised her marked hand instinctively. The fiery energy erupted in a blinding flash, striking the beast square in the chest. It howled, its form wavering, but it didn't stop.
The effort left Eleanor reeling, her vision swimming. The mark's heat became unbearable, the flames flickering erratically.
"Focus!" Seraphae yelled, stepping between Eleanor and the beast. Her sword met the creature's claws, sparks flying as she held her ground.
Eleanor gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand. The mark's energy surged again, and this time, she didn't hesitate. With a sharp motion, she unleashed a torrent of flame, engulfing the chaos beast.
The creature thrashed and roared, its form destabilizing under the assault. Finally, with one last agonized cry, it disintegrated into ash.
The clearing fell silent save for Eleanor's ragged breathing. The shard on the altar pulsed weakly before shattering into fragments, its influence dissipating.
Lena rushed to Eleanor's side, gripping her shoulders. "Are you okay?"
Eleanor nodded faintly, though her body trembled. "I… I'm fine."
Seraphae sheathed her blade, her expression unreadable. "That mark of yours is powerful, but it's tearing you apart. You can't keep using it like this."
"I don't have a choice," Eleanor said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If I don't use it, more people will die."
Her gaze fell to her gloved hand, where the faint glow of the mark pulsed with a life of its own. The power within her felt foreign and untamed, like a fire threatening to engulf everything if left unchecked. She clenched her fist, pushing back the gnawing dread that accompanied each use of Aeryth's power.
For now, the village was safe. But deep down, Eleanor knew this was only the beginning.