The sun was barely rising when Lucas and Eira reached a plateau overlooking the mist-shrouded forest. From this vantage, the vast expanse of Eryndor stretched before them—rolling hills, ancient ruins, and distant mountain peaks kissed by the first light of dawn.
Eira stood at the edge of the cliff, her silhouette framed against the golden hues of morning. Lucas watched her quietly, trying to gauge the enigma that had entered his life. She seemed unshaken by the events of the previous night, but he couldn't ignore the tension in her shoulders or the way her hand lingered near her dagger.
"We'll rest here for a while," she said, her voice breaking the silence.
Lucas nodded and sat down on a patch of grass, leaning his staff against a nearby rock. His muscles ached from the climb and the fight with the shadowhounds, but his mind buzzed with unanswered questions.
"Eira," he began hesitantly.
She glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.
"The curse," he continued. "You said it's tied to bloodlines. What did you mean?"
Eira sighed, sitting cross-legged across from him. "The curse isn't just some random affliction, Lucas. It's ancient, created during the Great Sundering when the first mages divided the realm's magic. It marked certain bloodlines—those who carried the power to either break it or let it consume the world."
Lucas frowned, his fingers tracing the glowing sigil on his wrist. "So, you're saying my family is tied to this? That I'm supposed to stop it?"
"Not just stop it," Eira said, her tone grave. "You're meant to face it. The curse is alive, Lucas. It's not just some spell; it's a force—an entity. And right now, it's waking up."
The weight of her words settled heavily on him. Lucas had always known he was different. While other kids in Tarlion played with wooden swords, he had been drawn to the ancient tomes in Eldrin's library. But he had never imagined that his lineage carried such a burden.
"What about you?" he asked after a moment. "Why are you so involved in all of this?"
Eira's gaze flicked away, and for the first time, Lucas saw a crack in her composure. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pendant—a silver disc etched with intricate runes.
"This," she said, holding it up, "was my mother's. She was marked by the curse too. She died trying to stop it."
Lucas's throat tightened. "I'm sorry."
Eira shrugged, but her eyes betrayed her pain. "I've spent my life trying to pick up where she left off. That's why I joined the Crimson Vanguard."
Lucas's head snapped up. "The Vanguard? The group trying to bring the curse to full power?"
"They weren't always like that," Eira said quickly. "When I joined, they were fighting to contain the curse, to keep it from spreading. But something changed. Their leader—Aris—became obsessed with the idea of harnessing the curse's power instead of stopping it."
"And you just left?"
"I didn't have a choice," Eira said, her voice cold. "They betrayed everything they stood for. I couldn't be part of it anymore."
Lucas studied her, unsure whether to trust her. But the raw emotion in her voice, the way her fingers tightened around the pendant, told him she was being honest.
Before he could respond, a low rumble echoed across the plateau. Lucas shot to his feet, his staff in hand.
"What was that?" he asked, scanning the horizon.
Eira stood, her hand on her dagger. "Something's coming."
From the edge of the forest below, shadows began to shift unnaturally. A dark shape emerged—a massive figure cloaked in mist, its eyes glowing a sickly green.
"A wraithspawn," Eira muttered, her jaw tightening.
Lucas's pulse quickened. The creature lumbered toward them, its hulking form exuding an aura of malice. As it approached, smaller figures appeared in its wake—humanoid shapes, twisted and gaunt, their movements unnervingly fast.
"We can't fight all of them," Lucas said, panic creeping into his voice.
"We won't have to," Eira said, pulling a vial from her belt. "Follow my lead."
She hurled the vial toward the ground, and it shattered in a burst of blinding light. Lucas shielded his eyes, and when the light faded, Eira was already running toward a narrow path that led down the plateau.
"Move!" she shouted over her shoulder.
Lucas didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed his staff and sprinted after her, the sound of the wraithspawn's guttural roars echoing behind them.
As they descended, the path narrowed, forcing them to move single file. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and Lucas risked a glance back. The wraithspawn was gaining on them, its smaller minions swarming around it like shadows given form.
"Do you have a plan?" Lucas called.
"Working on it!" Eira replied, her voice tight.
The path opened into another forest, the trees here gnarled and ancient. Eira skidded to a stop, her eyes darting around. She grabbed Lucas by the arm and pulled him toward a hollowed-out tree.
"Inside, now!"
They squeezed into the cramped space, the bark pressing against their backs. The sounds of the wraithspawn and its minions grew louder, the ground shaking with each step.
Lucas held his breath, his heart pounding as the shadows passed by their hiding spot. The wraithspawn's massive form loomed just outside, its green eyes scanning the forest. For a terrifying moment, it seemed to sniff the air, its gaze lingering on the hollow.
But then, as if losing interest, it lumbered onward, its minions following in its wake.
Lucas exhaled slowly, his hands trembling. "That was too close."
Eira peered out cautiously before stepping back into the open. "They'll be back. We need to keep moving."
Lucas nodded, his determination hardening. Whatever dangers lay ahead, he knew there was no turning back.