The road to Ashenfall was quieter than Eryndor expected. Too quiet.
The usual sounds of the forest—chirping crickets, rustling leaves—had faded the closer they got to the capital's outer gates. It felt as if the land itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.
Kaelith kept glancing over her shoulder, her hand never far from her dagger. "I know you heard that, too."
"I did."
Eryndor's cursed arm had been pulsing for the last half-hour, and the faint flicker of blue fire along his wrist was getting harder to suppress. The wraith's words still lingered in his mind.
Others will come. Stronger than I.
Kaelith slowed, eyes scanning the treetops. "You think Rhoan's still watching us?"
Eryndor shook his head. "If he wanted to stop us, he wouldn't wait for nightfall. Whatever's out here… it's not him."
As they neared a small stone bridge crossing a shallow stream, Eryndor paused. The water below shimmered faintly, reflecting the pale light of the rising moon. For a moment, the reflection twisted, the image warping into something darker—a shadow with glowing red eyes.
Eryndor's hand instinctively went to his sword.
Kaelith stepped beside him, her voice low. "You see it too, don't you?"
He nodded. "It's watching."
Kaelith exhaled slowly. "Great. We've got creepy reflections now. What's next, haunted road signs?"
Eryndor forced a faint smile but didn't take his eyes off the water. The shadow in the reflection didn't move.
"Let's keep going," he said, stepping onto the bridge.
They crossed carefully, each footstep echoing slightly louder than it should have. Kaelith's fingers brushed along the stone railing as if expecting something to leap out.
But nothing came.
When they reached the other side, the forest seemed to shift—subtle, but noticeable. The path widened, and in the distance, faint lights from Ashenfall flickered through the trees.
"We're close," Kaelith said, relieved.
Eryndor glanced at the sky. The moon hung full and bright, bathing the world in cold silver light.
"Too close," he muttered.
Kaelith raised an eyebrow. "How is that a bad thing?"
Before he could answer, a soft crack echoed behind them.
Both of them froze.
Eryndor's cursed arm burned hotter, and this time, he didn't suppress the glow. The blue flames spread slowly up his wrist as he turned.
A figure stood at the far end of the bridge. Cloaked, but unmistakably wrong. Its outline seemed blurred, as if it wasn't fully part of this world. Its eyes glowed the same red as the wraith's, but there was no mist—only shadow, coiling around its feet.
Kaelith's grip tightened on her dagger. "I'm going to assume that's not a friendly traveler."
Eryndor drew his sword. "No. It's not."
The figure stepped forward, silent but deliberate. Its head tilted unnaturally to the side, eyes locked on Eryndor's arm.
"Flamebearer," it rasped, its voice like dry leaves scraping against stone.
Kaelith took a cautious step back. "You know, I'm really getting tired of these things recognizing you."
Eryndor didn't respond. His focus was on the figure.
It raised one shadowy hand, palm open. In the center of its palm, a symbol burned faintly—the same eye with a scar that Eryndor had seen at the crossroads.
Kaelith noticed it too. "That's the same mark, isn't it?"
Eryndor's grip tightened on his sword. "Yeah."
The figure lowered its hand. When it spoke again, there was a strange… reverence to its tone.
"The seal weakens. The Dragon stirs."
Kaelith glanced sharply at Eryndor. "Did it just say dragon?"
Before Eryndor could reply, the shadow figure lunged.
It moved fast—faster than the wraith from before. Eryndor barely had time to raise his sword before the figure's clawed hand slashed toward him. Blue flames erupted along the blade as their weapons met, sending a burst of light into the night.
Kaelith darted to the side, circling behind the figure, but her dagger passed through it like smoke. "Great. I can't hit it!"
Eryndor gritted his teeth, shoving the figure back with the force of his cursed arm. The flames surged brighter, driving the shadow back a few steps.
But the figure didn't retreat for long. Its eyes flared, and suddenly, the shadows around them deepened, swallowing the moonlight.
Eryndor could barely make out Kaelith's silhouette now. "Stay close!"
"Not planning on wandering off!" she called back.
The shadow figure lashed out again, but this time, Eryndor didn't block. He stepped into the attack, twisting his blade and letting the flames wash over the figure's chest. The shadow shrieked, stumbling backward as the fire seared through its form.
Eryndor pressed forward, driving the tip of his sword into the figure's heart.
The flames roared to life, engulfing the figure entirely. Its form twisted and shrank until nothing but faint embers remained, drifting into the wind.
Kaelith exhaled sharply. "Well… that wasn't terrifying at all."
Eryndor lowered his sword, his arm still glowing faintly. "It said something about a dragon."
Kaelith sheathed her dagger. "Yeah, I heard. What dragon?"
Eryndor's eyes lingered on the bridge, where the shadow had vanished.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I think we're about to find out."