Scene 1: The Whispering Forest
The inn had fallen silent, the warmth of its earlier bustle now long gone, leaving behind the faint groan of wooden beams settling in the cool night air. Upstairs, the room was dimly lit by the pale glow of moonlight sneaking through the cracked curtains.
Christopher sprawled across his bed, limbs splayed out like a man who'd fought his mattress and lost. His thin blanket clung awkwardly to his side, half-draped across his chest.
"Finally," he muttered, yawning loudly. "No wolves, no shadow monsters, no crazy assassins shooting arrows... just a proper bed and—" His words trailed into a muffled groan as he buried his head deeper into the pillow.
Across the room, Elliotte sat on the edge of his bed, his shoulders rigid, his thoughts far from restful. His fingers turned the glowing Ring of Vigor absently, the faint, rhythmic pulses of light reflected in his sharp, focused eyes.
Christopher cracked one eye open, his expression groggy but curious. "Seriously? You're still awake?"
Elliotte didn't answer right away, his gaze fixed on the wooden floor as though trying to solve some invisible puzzle etched into the grain.
Christopher sighed dramatically, shifting onto his side and propping himself up with one elbow. "Alright, what's got you so worked up? You look like someone stole your sword."
Elliotte finally glanced at him, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's nothing. Go back to sleep."
"Yeah, no. That's not how this works," Christopher shot back, his voice still heavy with sleep. "You're brooding, and if you're brooding, that means trouble. Spill it."
Elliotte turned the ring on his finger once more before standing, his movements slow and deliberate. "There's something I need to check."
Christopher squinted at him. "It's the middle of the night. What could possibly be so important that you need to wander around in the dark?"
"I overheard something earlier," Elliotte replied, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. "Something about the Forest of Duskthorn. A strange light was spotted there last night."
Christopher groaned, flopping back onto the bed. "Oh, great. Let me guess: you think it's some kind of mystical 'sign,' and now you're about to walk headfirst into a deathtrap."
Elliotte shrugged, his lips curving into a faint smile. "You're not wrong."
"Fantastic." Christopher yanked the blanket over his head. "Fine. Go get yourself killed. Just don't expect me to come running when some massive glowing tree monster decides to eat you." He peeked out just long enough to add, "And if you do die, I'm taking all your belongings. Just so we're clear."
Elliotte chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Noted."
As Christopher's breathing slowed, Elliotte slipped out of the room, moving silently to avoid the creaking floorboards. Descending the narrow stairs, he entered the inn's common room, where a single lantern swung gently on its hook, casting flickering shadows over the polished bar.
The innkeeper stood behind the counter, polishing a mug with practiced ease. He looked up as Elliotte approached, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Heading out at this hour?"
"There's something I need to check," Elliotte replied. "I'll be back before dawn."
The innkeeper set the mug down, leaning on the bar with a grave expression. "The Forest of Duskthorn isn't a place for wanderers, lad. Especially not at night. It's not just the animals you should worry about."
Elliotte met his gaze, calm but resolute. "I can handle myself."
The innkeeper studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Just don't lose your way. That forest has a way of... changing people."
Elliotte gave a small nod before stepping outside.
The crisp night air bit at his skin, sharp and unforgiving. The stars above glimmered faintly, scattered across the inky black sky like shards of glass. Ahead, the Forest of Duskthorn loomed, its twisted, ancient trees forming a shadowy wall that seemed to pulse with an unnatural energy.
As Elliotte approached the tree line, the Rings of Light on his fingers pulsed softly, their glow casting faint halos over his hands. The closer he got, the stronger the pull from the Ring of Vigor grew, its energy surging gently through his arm like a whisper urging him forward.
The forest's entrance yawned before him, dark and foreboding. Elliotte hesitated only briefly before stepping inside.
The canopy above was thick, blotting out the moonlight and plunging the forest floor into near-total darkness. Shadows shifted unnaturally among the gnarled roots and moss-covered stones, as though the trees themselves were alive and watching.
Elliotte moved cautiously, Exilibur transforming seamlessly into its blade form with a faint shimmer of light. The blade illuminated his path, casting long, twisting shadows that seemed to dance in the corners of his vision.
The air was heavy, humming faintly with an otherworldly resonance that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn't a sound, exactly—more like a vibration brushing against his senses, warning him that he was no longer alone.
Suddenly, the hum stopped.
Elliotte froze, and every muscle in his body tensed. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on him like a physical weight.
A sharp whistle pierced the stillness.
He spun just in time to see an arrow streaking toward him. Exilibur moved instinctively, its radiant blade slicing the arrow cleanly in two. The broken halves fell to the forest floor, the sound swallowed by the oppressive quiet.
"Who's there?" Elliotte called, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest.
The shadows didn't answer. But he could feel it—the presence of someone, or something, watching him.
Scene 2: Shadows Unveiled
Elliotte's gaze darted through the darkness, his every sense on edge. The air around him seemed thicker, charged with an unfamiliar tension. The faint hum of the forest grew quieter, as though it, too, awaited what would happen next.
The halves of the arrow had disappeared entirely as if swallowed by the forest itself. Then, a second arrow hissed through the air, its edge grazing Elliotte's shoulder. He winced, the shallow cut stinging against the night's chill. Before he could fully react, a figure emerged from the shadows.
The figure in the fox-shaped mask remained eerily still, its crimson markings glowing faintly in the moonlight. The hollow eyes of the mask were fixed on Elliotte, unblinking, like a predator stalking its prey.
Elliotte's grip on Exilibur tightened. The radiant blade cast long, flickering shadows across the trees as the air grew colder around him.
"You've got one chance to explain yourself," Elliotte demanded, his voice cutting through the silence. "Who are you, and why are you attacking me?"
The figure tilted its head slightly as if amused by his defiance. Without a word, they reached up and slowly removed the mask.
Auburn hair spilled free, catching the faint light of the moon, and a pair of sharp green eyes locked onto Elliotte's. Her features were striking—angular and precise, framed by an air of confidence that radiated from her calm expression. She tucked the mask into her belt and straightened, her movements deliberate and poised.
"My name is Rose Sterling," she said, her voice steady but edged with purpose. "Of the Kingdom of Aedralis."
Elliotte didn't lower Exilibur, his gaze remaining sharp. "And why is someone from Aedralis ambushing me in the middle of the night?"
Rose arched an eyebrow, unbothered by the question. "You wield power," she said bluntly, her gaze flicking to the two rings on Elliotte's hand. "That makes you a potential ally—or a threat. I needed to know which."
"And now?" Elliotte pressed, his voice unwavering.
"That depends on your answer," Rose said, folding her arms. "Why are you here?"
Elliotte didn't lower Exilibur. "That's none of your business."
Rose smirked faintly, though there was no humor in her expression. "So you expect trust without giving any in return?" Her gaze hardened, her tone sharpening. "Then let me give you a reason to hear me out."
Elliotte said nothing, his eyes narrowing as he studied her.
Rose sighed, her expression darkening slightly as she reached into her cloak and withdrew a sealed parchment. The crest of Aedralis glinted faintly in the light of Exilibur.
"This came to us weeks ago," she said, her voice dropping into a grave tone. "It was delivered by a man named Theodore. He sent us one of his Rings of Thunder before his death... along with a warning."
Elliotte's brow furrowed, his grip on Exilibur shifting slightly. "Theodore? Rings of Thunder?"
Rose nodded. "Theodore wielded four of them—powerful, ancient artifacts tied to the storms themselves. But when he learned that Morvanious was on the move, he realized that the ring of darkness he was protecting couldn't be kept away from him forever. So, he scattered his Rings of Thunder across the kingdoms, warning us about the upcoming chaos. One of those rings is now under Aedralis's protection."
At the mention of Morvanious, Elliotte's grip on Exilibur tightened. Memories of the dark wielder's cruelty flashed through his mind, the weight of their last encounter still heavy in his heart. "What does Morvanious have to do with this?" he asked, his tone sharp.
Rose's green eyes darkened. "Everything. That devil now wields six Rings of Darkness, and he's hunting for the rest. If he claims all of them, he'll wield power no kingdom can match. Theodore knew this—he died to warn us. And if you carry those Rings of Light, you're already on his radar."
"So he's after the Rings of Darkness," Elliotte said slowly.
Rose nodded. "Yes. But that's not the only danger. Power—and power—draws attention. If you think you're safe just because you're chasing the Rings of Light, you're mistaken."
Before Elliotte could answer, a low rustle of leaves echoed above them. Before both of them could react, a figure leaped from the trees, landing lightly between them.
The stranger straightened, brushing a few leaves from his shoulder before flashing a cocky grin.
"Well, this is cozy," Christopher said, his tone light and playful despite the tension in the air. "What'd I miss?"
Rose's sharp gaze flicked to the newcomer, her hand still on her bow. "Who is this?"
"Christopher Cane," he replied smoothly, giving a mock bow. "Traveler, occasional hero, and full-time babysitter for this guy." He gestured toward Elliotte with a grin. "I'm just here to make sure he doesn't charge headfirst into death traps."
Rose didn't look amused. "And what does a 'self-proclaimed hero' want with the Rings of Light?"
Christopher smirked, leaning casually against a nearby tree. "Oh, I don't want them. Too much responsibility. I'm just here to make sure Elliotte doesn't get himself killed before saving the world—or whatever it is he's trying to do."
So, Christopher smirked, "Are we making friends or enemies tonight?" Rose's narrowed eyes flicked between them. "That depends," she said slowly. "Do you intend to stand in my way?"
Christopher's grin widened. "Stand in your way? No, but I'm pretty sure Elliotte will. He has a thing for impossible missions."
"You're not helping," Elliotte muttered, shooting Christopher a sharp look.
"Wasn't trying to," Christopher quipped, his grin widening.