The first light of dawn broke over the village of Iskar, revealing the scars left behind by the previous night's chaos. Cracked walls, smoldering debris, and the lingering scent of scorched wood greeted Eryon as he stepped outside his modest hut. The hum of magic was subdued this morning, replaced by the sound of hammering, sweeping, and whispered conversations.
Eryon picked up a broom and joined the others in clearing the square. The remnants of the shattered ward shimmered faintly, jagged shards of magical energy embedded in the cobblestones like cruel reminders of the beasts' destructive power. Around him, villagers waved their hands to lift heavy rubble, weaving spells that made the work quick and efficient. Eryon, as always, relied on his hands.
"Careful, Eryon," came a sneering voice from behind. "Wouldn't want you hurting yourself trying to do a mage's work."
Eryon turned to see Tarik striding toward him, his robes spotless despite the night's battle. A few villagers chuckled at his remark, though some turned away, unwilling to meet Eryon's eyes.
"I'll manage," Eryon replied quietly, bending to lift a broken plank.
"Will you?" Tarik said, his tone mockingly sympathetic. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're more of a liability than a help." He glanced around, making sure his audience was watching. "We don't need someone who can't even defend himself taking up space when real threats are out there."
The plank slipped from Eryon's grasp, falling with a dull thud. His fists clenched, but he didn't respond. What could he say? Tarik's words stung because they carried the weight of truth.
---
Old Mara's Wisdom
Later that morning, Eryon found himself at Old Mara's doorstep. Her small cottage stood at the edge of the village, its walls covered in ivy and the faint scent of dried herbs wafting from within. She welcomed him with a smile and a steaming cup of tea, motioning for him to sit by the fire.
"You look troubled, boy," she said, her sharp eyes scanning his face.
Eryon shrugged, staring into the swirling liquid in his cup. "It's nothing."
Mara chuckled, a dry, knowing sound. "Nothing, is it? A young man doesn't carry shoulders that heavy over nothing. Speak your mind."
He hesitated, then sighed. "I just… I want to be useful. To help. But it feels like no matter what I do, it's never enough. Not without magic."
Mara's gaze softened. "Magic makes life easier, that's true. But it doesn't make a person better. You have something most of them don't."
"What's that?"
"Persistence," she said firmly. "You work harder than anyone in this village because you have to. And that's worth more than any spell."
Her words were kind, but they rang hollow. Eryon didn't want to be persistent. He wanted to belong.
---
Rebuilding the Village
The rest of the day passed in a blur of labor. Eryon worked alongside the other villagers, hauling wood to patch broken fences and clearing debris from the fields. His muscles burned by midday, and blisters formed on his hands, but he pressed on.
At one point, he paused to watch a group of mages repairing a roof. One mage raised a hand, and the broken shingles floated effortlessly into place. Another whispered a spell, and the cracks in the wood sealed themselves, good as new.
Eryon turned away, a lump forming in his throat.
---
The Council's Decision
By evening, word spread that the village elders were holding a meeting in the square. The villagers gathered around as the elders climbed onto the raised platform, their expressions grave.
"We've received troubling news," Elder Rina began, her voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. "The beasts we fought last night were merely a scouting pack. Our scouts report a larger group gathering deeper in the forest."
A wave of unease rippled through the crowd.
"The ward will take days to fully restore," Rina continued. "We cannot afford to wait for them to attack again."
"We should strike first!" Tarik interrupted, stepping forward. His voice was loud and confident, instantly drawing attention. "If we let them regroup, they'll be stronger. I'll lead a group to destroy them before they have the chance."
The villagers muttered among themselves. Some nodded in agreement, while others looked uncertain.
Elder Rina frowned. "It's a dangerous gamble, Tarik. We've already lost too much."
"And we'll lose more if we sit around waiting," Tarik shot back. "Let me do what needs to be done."
After a tense pause, Rina nodded reluctantly. "Very well. Gather your team and leave at first light."
---
Eryon's Resolve
As the crowd dispersed, Eryon lingered at the edge of the square, watching as Tarik and his team prepared. The group consisted of the village's strongest mages, each one skilled and confident. They moved with purpose, their magic glowing faintly in the evening light.
Eryon's chest tightened. He thought of the beasts, of the chaos they brought, and of the girl he had saved. He wanted to help, to make a difference, but he knew he wouldn't be welcome among them.
"You're not thinking of following them, are you?"
Eryon turned to see Old Mara approaching, her walking stick tapping softly against the ground.
"They'd never let me," he said bitterly.
"Good," she replied. "You'd only get yourself killed."
Eryon looked away, ashamed.
Mara sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder. "There's no shame in waiting, boy. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is survive."
Her words stayed with him as he climbed the hill overlooking the forest that night. He sat beneath the stars, watching the distant glow of the mages' campfire.
"I'm not afraid of dying," he whispered to the darkness. "I'm afraid of never mattering."
---
Tarik's Departure
At dawn, Tarik and his team set out, their figures disappearing into the misty woods. The village watched them go, a mix of hope and fear etched on their faces.
Eryon stood at the back of the crowd, his heart heavy. He wanted to go with them, to prove he wasn't useless, but he knew it wasn't his place.
As the last of the mages vanished into the trees, Eryon turned and walked away, his fists clenched.
The beasts would return. He could feel it. And when they did, he vowed, he would be ready—magic or no magic.
---
A Tense Silence
The forest seemed quieter after Tarik and his group disappeared. The villagers went about their daily tasks, but a heavy tension hung in the air. People whispered of what might happen if Tarik failed. Though no one said it aloud, the fear was palpable.
Eryon kept himself busy. He worked twice as hard as usual, hauling lumber, patching roofs, and carrying supplies. The physical strain was a welcome distraction from the knot of emotions in his chest.
But that night, sleep eluded him. He tossed and turned, his mind replaying the events of the past days: the beasts, the girl he saved, Tarik's scorn, Mara's words.
Finally, unable to bear the restlessness, he climbed out of bed and made his way to the hill overlooking the forest.
---
A Strange Encounter
The night was unusually cold. Eryon pulled his cloak tighter around him as he sat on the hill, staring at the dark expanse of trees. He couldn't see Tarik's group anymore, but he imagined them deep in the forest, fighting the beasts with their powerful magic.
As he sat there, a rustling sound came from behind him. Eryon tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife at his belt. He turned, expecting to see a wild animal or, worse, one of the beasts.
Instead, he saw a figure cloaked in shadows, standing at the edge of the trees.
"Who's there?" Eryon called, his voice steady despite the chill that ran down his spine.
The figure stepped closer, revealing itself to be an elderly man with a weathered face. He carried a gnarled staff, and his eyes gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
"Forgive me," the man said, his voice low and rasping. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Eryon narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here? The forest isn't safe."
The old man chuckled. "Is anywhere truly safe?" He looked past Eryon, toward the village below. "I saw the commotion earlier. The beasts must have caused quite a stir."
Eryon hesitated. "You're not from here."
"No," the man admitted. "I'm just a wanderer, passing through." He studied Eryon for a moment, his gaze unsettlingly sharp. "But you… you don't belong here either, do you?"
Eryon stiffened. "This is my home."
"Is it?" the man asked, his tone curious rather than accusatory. "You don't carry yourself like the others. There's a weight on you, boy. Something heavier than the buckets you've been dragging around all day."
Eryon frowned, unsure how to respond.
The man smiled faintly. "It's not my place to pry. But I will say this: sometimes, the things we carry are not meant to be burdens. They're meant to be sharpened, forged."
Before Eryon could ask what he meant, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest, leaving Eryon alone with his thoughts.
---
News from the Forest
Two days passed, and there was no word from Tarik or his group. The villagers grew restless. The elders convened again, debating whether to send another team after them.
"It's too soon to assume the worst," Elder Rina argued. "We must have patience."
But patience was running thin. The mages who had stayed behind began fortifying the village with what magic they had left, preparing for the possibility of another attack.
Eryon felt the tension rising around him. He continued to help where he could, but the whispers and sidelong glances followed him wherever he went.
"Do you think Tarik made it?" one of the villagers asked him as they repaired a fence.
Eryon didn't know how to answer. "I hope so," he said finally.
But deep down, a part of him wondered. If Tarik failed, what chance did the village have?
---
A Desperate Choice
That night, Eryon stood at the edge of the forest again. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Tarik and his group should have returned by now, or at least sent a message.
He thought of the beasts, of the chaos they had brought, and of the fear in the girl's eyes as he saved her. He thought of Tarik's smug face and the old man's cryptic words.
"You don't carry yourself like the others."
Eryon clenched his fists. He was tired of being powerless, of standing on the sidelines while others risked everything. If Tarik and his group were in trouble, he couldn't just sit by and do nothing.
Before he could talk himself out of it, Eryon grabbed his cloak and his knife. He slipped through the village, avoiding the guards stationed near the square, and disappeared into the forest.
---
Into the Unknown
The forest was darker than he expected. The towering trees blocked out the moonlight, and every shadow seemed to writhe with movement. Eryon forced himself to keep going, his knife clutched tightly in his hand.
The sounds of the village faded behind him, replaced by the eerie silence of the woods. Occasionally, he heard the distant howl of a beast, but it was impossible to tell how far away they were.
Hours passed as he trudged through the undergrowth, his nerves stretched thin. Just when he was beginning to question his decision, he stumbled upon a clearing.
The sight before him made his blood run cold.
The clearing was littered with the remains of a battle. Broken branches, scorched earth, and faint traces of magical energy painted a grim picture. But what caught Eryon's attention most were the bodies.
Three of Tarik's mages lay motionless on the ground, their expressions frozen in fear. Their wounds were strange, jagged and unnatural, as if the beasts had torn through them with claws made of raw energy.
Eryon's stomach churned, but he forced himself to move closer. He searched for any sign of Tarik or the others, but the clearing was eerily empty.
A low growl suddenly cut through the air, freezing Eryon in place. He turned slowly, his heart pounding.
At the edge of the clearing, glowing eyes emerged from the shadows. A beast stepped forward, its twisted form crackling with unstable energy. It was larger than the others he had seen, its movements more fluid, more deliberate.
Eryon tightened his grip on his knife, his mind racing. He had no magic, no defenses. If he ran, it would catch him in seconds.
The beast snarled, and Eryon braced himself.
---
To Be Continued...