The group pressed on through the valley, the ruins of Eldermist fading into the mist behind them. The cadets were subdued, their earlier confidence tempered by the battle with the golem. Nilhas noticed Alyndra frequently glancing over her shoulder, her brow furrowed in thought.
"You've been quiet," he said, breaking the silence.
She hesitated, then spoke. "The golem wasn't supposed to be active. Guardians like that are remnants of ancient magic—they only awaken when their wards are breached."
"And you're saying we woke it?"
"Not us. Something—or someone—else must have tampered with the runes recently. It explains the disturbances we've been sensing."
Nilhas mulled over her words. If someone was meddling with ancient magic, it could mean trouble not just for New Rosia, but for all of Elderrogue. Their path led to a narrow ridge overlooking a chasm filled with swirling mist. The group moved cautiously, the air thick with tension. Halfway across, Nilhas felt the hairs on his neck stand on end.
"Stop," he said, raising a hand.
A moment later, a crossbow bolt whizzed past his head, embedding itself in the rock wall. Bandits emerged from the shadows, their weapons drawn.
"Drop your gear and walk away," growled their leader, a burly man with a patchwork cloak.
Nilhas smirked. "Another toll? What is it with this valley?"
The cadets readied their spells, their hands glowing with magical energy. "We're not backing down," Alyndra said firmly.
The bandits rushed forward, and chaos erupted. Nilhas waded into the fray, his mace a blur of motion. Beside him, the cadets unleashed elemental spells that lit up the ridge. Fireballs and shards of ice streaked through the air, forcing the bandits to scatter.
Despite their training, the cadets struggled to hold their ground. Joren was nearly overwhelmed before Nilhas intervened, his mace smashing into the ground and sending a shockwave that knocked the attackers off balance.
By the end of the skirmish, the bandits lay defeated, either unconscious or fleeing into the mist. The group regrouped, bruised but victorious.
"You handled yourselves well," Nilhas said, surprising even himself with the compliment.
Alyndra gave a weary smile. "Thanks. But we've got a long way to go."
After several more days of travel, the spires of New Rosia finally came into view. The city rose from the mist like a beacon, its towers gleaming in the sunlight. Built into the side of a mountain, it was both a fortress and a hub of magical learning, with walls that pulsed faintly with protective wards.
The cadets brightened at the sight, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten. "Home," Joren said, his voice tinged with relief.
As they approached the gates, a squad of armored guards stopped them. Their leader, a stern-faced woman with silver hair, stepped forward.
"State your names and purpose," she said, her tone brisk.
"We're cadets from the Academy," Alyndra replied, presenting a medallion marked with the Academy's sigil. "These are our companions—they helped us on our mission."
The woman eyed Nilhas suspiciously. "And you are?"
"Nilhas," he said simply. "Just passing through."
The guards exchanged glances but allowed them to enter. As the gates swung open, Nilhas felt a strange mix of awe and unease. The city was beautiful, its streets lined with intricate carvings and bustling with activity. Yet beneath the surface, there was a tension he couldn't quite place.
The cadets led Nilhas to the Magic Academy, a sprawling complex at the heart of the city. Towering libraries, shimmering crystal halls, and training grounds filled with apprentices practicing spells made up the campus.
Inside, they met Master Kael, a wizened elf who oversaw the cadets' training. He listened intently as Alyndra recounted their journey, his expression growing graver with each detail.
"The disturbances you've encountered are no coincidence," Kael said. "The Cortian War may have ended centuries ago, but its shadows linger. Someone—or something—is stirring those shadows again."
Nilhas frowned. "You think it's connected to the golem and the Wraithborn?"
Kael nodded. "Likely. And if these disturbances reach New Rosia, the consequences could be catastrophic."
"What can we do?" Alyndra asked.
Kael's gaze shifted to Nilhas. "The key lies beyond the gates of New Rosia—in the ruins of the Cortian stronghold. If you're willing, I'd ask you to accompany our cadets on an expedition there."
Nilhas hesitated. He wasn't one for group endeavors, but the stakes were too high to ignore. "I'll do it," he said finally.
That night, as the group rested in the Academy's guest quarters, Nilhas found himself unable to sleep. The city's energy was different from any place he had known—alive, humming with magic, and yet, eerily quiet. He stepped out into the courtyard, the moon casting long shadows across the cobblestones.
As he walked, he heard faint whispers, like voices carried on the wind. He turned a corner and found himself in an older part of the Academy, where the air seemed colder, heavier. At the center of the courtyard stood a statue of a robed figure holding a staff. The whispers grew louder as Nilhas approached.
"Nilhas..."
He froze, gripping his mace. The voice was not in his ears but in his mind—a deep, gravelly tone that sent chills down his spine.
"You cannot escape your destiny. The shadows rise, and you are bound to them."
The statue's eyes glowed faintly, and for a brief moment, Nilhas thought he saw it move. Then, the whispers ceased, leaving only the sound of his own breathing.
The next morning, Alyndra found Nilhas in the Academy's library, poring over old tomes. "You're up early," she said, sliding into a seat across from him.
"Couldn't sleep," he replied without looking up. "This place... it's hiding something."
Alyndra nodded. "The Academy has secrets, sure. But so do you."
Nilhas glanced at her, his expression guarded. Before he could respond, Master Kael approached, carrying a large book bound in dark leather.
"I thought you might come here," Kael said, placing the book on the table. "This contains what little we know about the Cortian stronghold. It's dangerous to go unprepared."
Nilhas opened the book, revealing maps, sketches, and accounts of battles fought long ago. One passage caught his eye—a description of a weapon said to be hidden within the stronghold, capable of sealing ancient magic.
"What's this?" he asked, pointing to the passage.
Kael's expression darkened. "The Sealbreaker. If the Cortian remnants are truly stirring, we may need it to stop them. But retrieving it will not be easy."
Nilhas smirked. "Nothing worth doing ever is."
The days leading up to their departure were spent in rigorous training. Nilhas pushed the cadets harder than ever, teaching them practical combat techniques and strategies for facing unpredictable foes.
"Magic's useful," he said during a sparring session. "But if you're too busy chanting spells to dodge a blade, you're dead."
Joren grumbled as he picked himself up from the ground, where Nilhas had just knocked him flat. "Easy for you to say. You've got a mace the size of my torso."
Alyndra, meanwhile, impressed Nilhas with her growing confidence. Her healing magic was faster and more precise, and she had begun incorporating offensive spells into her arsenal.
"You're improving," Nilhas admitted after a particularly intense spar.
She smiled. "Coming from you, I'll take that as high praise."
When the day of their departure arrived, the group gathered at the gates of New Rosia. They were joined by two additional allies—Tarin, a veteran mage specializing in protective wards, and Brynn, a ranger with a hawk-like gaze and a quiver full of enchanted arrows.
The journey to the Cortian stronghold would take them deep into uncharted territory, where dangers lurked around every corner. As they set out, the city's gates closed behind them, and the spires of New Rosia disappeared into the distance.
The first leg of the journey was uneventful, but the sense of foreboding grew with each passing mile. The land became more desolate, the air thicker, and the shadows deeper.
On the third night, as the group camped in a dense forest, they were attacked. Shadowborn creatures—twisted, humanoid figures with elongated limbs and glowing red eyes—emerged from the darkness, their movements unnervingly silent.
The camp erupted into chaos. Tarin cast a protective barrier around the group, but the Shadowborn pounded against it with unnatural strength. Brynn loosed arrow after arrow, each one glowing with enchantments that burned the creatures on impact.
Nilhas fought like a man possessed, his mace smashing through the Shadowborn with brutal efficiency. "Focus on the larger ones!" he shouted, pointing to a trio of hulking figures advancing on the barrier.
Alyndra and Joren combined their magic to unleash a torrent of fire and ice, driving the creatures back. The battle was fierce, but the group held their ground.
When the last Shadowborn fell, the forest was silent once more. The group was battered and exhausted, but alive.
As they regrouped, Tarin examined one of the fallen creatures. "These aren't ordinary Shadowborn," he said grimly. "They've been altered—empowered by something ancient."
Nilhas felt a pang of unease. "The Cortians?"
"Most likely," Tarin replied. "We need to move quickly. The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it becomes."
The group pressed on, their resolve hardened by the encounter. Each step brought them closer to the stronghold—and the answers they sought.