Cassiel fell through the suffocating void, her body weightless, as the oppressive darkness swallowed her whole. The descent seemed endless until the world beneath her shifted, and she landed softly, her feet pressing into the brittle, cracked ground.
The barren wasteland stretched out endlessly under a bruised, smoky sky. The air was acrid, carrying the faint metallic tang of decay. In the distance, a group of figures knelt in a circle, heads bowed low, their forms flickering like shadows in the dim, unnatural light.
Cassiel moved closer, each step silent, as though the world refused to acknowledge her presence. Among the kneeling figures, one stood, his back rigid, his voice trembling as he addressed a man obscured in the shadows.
"We've scoured the drylands," the man said, desperation creeping into his tone. "Every outpost we've come across, every ruin—it's not there. Perhaps it's dead. It might not have existed to begin with."
A heavy silence fell over the gathering. The kneeling figures tensed, their shoulders rising and falling with labored breaths.
The figure in the shadows they kneeled before, stepping forward with deliberate ease. As the dim light touched him, his features came into view. He was lean but not frail, his presence more commanding than his wiry frame suggested. His face bore twisted, jagged markings that seemed to pulse faintly, and his eyes gleamed with an unnatural hunger.
Without a word, he placed his hand on the shoulder of the man who had spoken. The reaction was instant. The man's body seized, his breath caught in his throat as his skin seemed to wither beneath the figure's touch. He let out a strangled groan that turned into a scream, his frame collapsing inward as though drained of life itself.
The kneeling figures remained still, their heads bowed, unmoving as their comrade's cries echoed across the wasteland.
As the lifeless body crumpled to the ground, the man in the shadows turned to face the others, his expression eerily calm. "You will not stop." His voice was soft yet filled with an unrelenting force. "It exists. And it will be mine."
He stepped over the fallen man, his presence a suffocating weight on those around him. "Return to the search. Scour the drylands, leave no stone unturned, and do not return until you've found it. I will not be denied the meal of a lifetime."
The kneeling figures nodded in unison, their fear palpable. One by one, they rose and vanished into the haze, their forms dissolving like smoke.
The man's gaze lingered, scanning the horizon. As his eyes passed over Cassiel, she froze, her breath catching. Though his gaze didn't seem to meet hers directly, the aura emanating from him struck her like a blow—a suffocating wave of malice that sent a chill racing through her veins.
It reminded her of him.
Her legs trembled, and her vision blurred. The man's lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as he raised a hand toward her, his fingertips darkening as shadows surged forth.
The darkness slammed into her, engulfing her entirely.
Cassiel jolted upright, her breath hitching in her throat. The blanket tangled around her legs and felt heavy as if holding her down. She shoved it away, her eyes darting to the window where the first rays of dawn spilled into the room, gilding the world in soft gold.
She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, her heartbeat wild and uneven. The remnants of the dream clung to her like a shadow, vivid and unrelenting.
Him.
Her lips parted, but the words didn't come. She leaned forward, gripping the cot's edge as her mind raced. The barren wasteland and the oppressive hunger in that man's eyes wasn't just a dream. She'd felt his presence, his aura.
"It's impossible," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Her gaze fixed on the light streaming through the window as if it could offer clarity. But it didn't. Instead, her thoughts churned, dragging her back to a time she'd tried to forget.
"I defeated him," she murmured, her voice trembling with conviction. "Father sealed him away; I watched it happen."
The memory surfaced unbidden—searing light, a clash of unimaginable forces. That being, the one whose aura had seeped into her dream had been bound in chains of light and cast into hell, never to walk the world again.
Cassiel shook her head, her fingers curling into the fabric of her tunic. "There's no way," she muttered, her voice firmer, though doubt wormed its way in. "No way he could've escaped."
And yet, the man in the dream...
Her stomach churned. Could he be a vessel? A fragment? Are they somehow connected? The questions burned, but no answers came.
Cassiel rose unsteadily to her feet and moved toward the window. The sunlight warmed her skin, a sharp contrast to the chill in her veins.
"If he's free," she said softly, her voice heavy with dread, "the world is in danger."
Her fingers grazed the window's wooden frame, her gaze fixed on the forest beyond. The peaceful scene before her felt like a mockery, a fragile facade over the looming chaos.
"I have to stop this," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. The resolve in her voice steadied her, but the unease lingered.
The man in the dream wasn't him—not yet. But something tied them together. And if she didn't find out what, it could unravel everything she had fought for.
The soft light of dawn filtered through the small window of Cassiel's room, illuminating the modest space. She stirred, the weight of her dream still heavy on her mind. As she sat up, the faint scent of freshly baked bread and herbs wafted through the air, grounding her in the present.
A knock at the door broke the stillness.
"It's open," Cassiel called, her voice quieter than intended.
The door creaked open to reveal Alyna balancing a tray of food in one hand and a neatly folded set of clothes in the other. "Good morning," she said with a small smile. "Figured you'd want something warm to start the day."
Cassiel blinked, momentarily thrown by the gesture. "Thank you," she said, taking the tray. The food was simple—fresh bread, a bowl of stew, and a few fruit slices—but the thought behind it warmed her.
Alyna set the clothes on a nearby stool. "Figured you might appreciate something a little more... local. That dress of yours has seen better days."
Cassiel glanced down at her tattered clothing, a faint blush rising. "I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted.
"Well, think about it now," Alyna said, crossing her arms with a playful smirk. "It's not every day someone new comes to Rothmoor. You're making an impression whether you like it or not."
Cassiel allowed a small smile to tug at her lips. "I'll keep that in mind."
As Alyna lingered, her tone grew softer. "The seer... Thalora. She's... not like anyone you've met before. Don't take her too seriously, but don't take her too lightly, either. She can get under your skin, but she means well."
"I'll keep that in mind, too," Cassiel said, her tone dry but warm.
Alyna nodded, her expression briefly clouding with something unspoken before she turned to leave. "Eat up. The day's already moving faster than you think."
Left alone, Cassiel stared at the tray of food, her appetite dulled by the lingering weight of the dream. She could still see the kneeling figures, hear the cruel laughter, and feel the oppressive aura of the man whose face she couldn't forget.
Shaking her head, she forced herself to eat. She couldn't afford to dwell on the past or the uncertain future. One step at a time, she reminded herself.
After finishing her meal, Cassiel washed and changed into the simple but comfortable clothes Alyna had brought—a tunic and trousers that allowed for ease of movement. She looked at her reflection in a small cracked mirror, her hair pulled back neatly, and decided she looked... almost like she belonged.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the village, ready to face whatever the day held.
The morning air buzzed with the hum of daily life. Cassiel stepped out into the village, the soft dirt path beneath her boots winding toward the familiar square. Villagers called to one another as they prepared for the day, their routines a steady rhythm.
"Cassiel!"
She turned to see Auren darting through the crowd, his face excitedly bright.
"Good morning!" he called as he skidded to a stop before her.
Cassiel smiled. "Good morning, Auren. You seem in a hurry."
"I'm heading to the training grounds," he said quickly, brushing his hair out of his face. "Dad's already there, and we're gonna work on some new stuff today. I've been practicing, you know."
"I don't doubt that," Cassiel replied. "Your enthusiasm makes it hard to miss."
He grinned, puffing his chest out slightly. "And thanks again for helping me yesterday. I showed everyone what I could do! They said I've gotten way better!"
"Did they know?" Cassiel said, her tone light. "I'm glad to hear it."
Auren nodded vigorously. "Anyway, I've got to go before Dad gets on my case for being late. But I'll see you later! Maybe I can show you what I've learned!"
"I'd like that," she said as he turned to leave.
With a quick wave, Auren took off, weaving through the crowd with boundless energy that made Cassiel smile faintly.
As the village returned to its steady rhythm, Cassiel caught sight of Eramus waiting near the path leading out of the village. His calm presence starkly contrasted with Auren's whirlwind energy, and she approached him.
"Ready?" Eramus asked, his voice warm but steady.
Cassiel nodded. "Let's go."
The two fell into step, leaving the bustling square behind as they walked toward the forest's edge.
The forest opened slightly as Cassiel and Eramus walked together, the morning light casting long shadows on the well-trodden path. The quiet was comfortable, broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the occasional chirp of birds overhead.
"How's your time here been so far?" Eramus asked, glancing at her with genuine curiosity.
Cassiel thought for a moment, her gaze drifting over the trees. "It's been... different," she admitted. "The people here have resilience, which I wasn't expecting. They've made so much from what they have—more than I've seen in a long time."
Eramus smiled faintly. "They're a tough bunch, alright. Stubborn, too. Comes with living in a place like this. Makes me proud, though."
"They have reason to be," Cassiel said. "Auren, for example. His determination reminds me of someone I used to know."
Eramus raised a brow. "Oh? Sounds like there's a story there."
A small, almost wistful smile crossed Cassiel's lips. "One of my brothers. He was relentless. No matter how many times he failed at something, he'd try again—and again—until he got it right. He drove the rest of us mad, but... there was something admirable about it."
Eramus chuckled. "Sounds familiar. Auren has a knack for that, too—always aiming higher than he should. Keeps Auden on his toes."
Cassiel's smile softened. "Then there's the one who always thought she had the answers. She'd talk circles around everyone, telling them what they should do, even when they didn't ask. I'm not sure how we tolerated her sometimes."
Eramus laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, I know someone just like that."
Cassiel gave him a curious look.
"Thalora," he said, grinning. "She's got a tongue sharper than any blade. Acts like she knows everything—which, to her credit, she often does. But she loves to talk in riddles. Drives me mad sometimes."
Cassiel tilted her head slightly. "It sounds like you have a... fond tolerance for her."
Eramus sighed dramatically. "That's one way to put it. She's like an annoying younger sibling you can't shake off, but she's good at what she does. And she knows it."
Cassiel chuckled softly. "She sounds... unique."
"That's one word for it," Eramus said, smirking. "She'll probably read you like a book the moment you step through the door. Just don't let her throw you off. And if she starts rambling, don't say I didn't warn you."
They continued in companionable silence for a few moments, the trees beginning to thin as the path narrowed. Eramus slowed his pace and gestured ahead. "This is where I leave you. Thalora's hut is just ahead, past that bend. You'll know it when you see it."
Cassiel glanced down the path, the forest growing denser just beyond. She hesitated, then turned to Eramus. "Thank you. For your help—and your company."
Eramus nodded, his expression warm. "You'll do fine. Thalora may be... intense, but she's good at what she does. Trust her. And trust yourself."
Cassiel inclined her head slightly. "I'll keep that in mind."
With a faint smile, she continued down the path, her steps careful but steady. Behind her, Eramus watched her go, his thoughtful gaze lingering before he turned back toward the village.
Cassiel approached the hut cautiously, the dense forest giving way to a clearing where the structure stood. The hut was modest and eccentric, its walls adorned with hanging trinkets and dried herbs, while wind chimes made of bones and polished stones swayed in the faint breeze. Smoke curled lazily from a crooked chimney, and the air carried the earthy scent of damp wood and herbs.
Taking a deep breath, Cassiel knocked lightly at the door.
"Come in!" a bright, cheery voice called from within.
Cassiel pushed the door open, and her senses were immediately greeted by a mix of rich aromas—smoke, herbs, and something faintly sweet. The interior was a riot of organized chaos, with shelves full of jars, books, and unidentifiable trinkets. The fire in the hearth crackled warmly, casting flickering shadows across the room.
"Ah, you're finally here!"
Cassiel's gaze landed on a woman sitting cross-legged near the hearth. She was not what Cassiel had expected at all. Her sharp features were youthful, her dark hair streaked with silver that shimmered in the firelight. She wore flowing robes embroidered with intricate patterns that seemed to shift subtly as she moved.
"Well, don't just stand there like a lost bird," the woman said, gesturing toward a low cushion. "Sit. Make yourself comfortable. I promise I don't bite."
Cassiel raised an eyebrow but obeyed, settling onto the cushion. "You're Thalora?"
"Last I checked," Thalora replied with a grin. "And you must be the one causing a stir in the village. Wings and all—hard to miss, really."
Cassiel stiffened slightly at the mention of her wings, but Thalora waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't get prickly. They're beautiful things. Though I have to say, it's curious. Shifters usually tuck theirs away, but yours... always stay out, even though they're broken. Fascinating."
Cassiel exhaled sharply, trying to gauge if Thalora's words were meant to provoke or simply observe. "I've been told you're... unique."
Thalora's laugh was sudden and loud, filling the small space. "Oh, I'm sure Eramus said that. Probably with an exhausted look on his face. He thinks I'm exhausting, but he's just a cranky old man."
Despite herself, Cassiel's lips twitched into a faint smile. "He said you were a lot to handle."
"Well, he's not wrong," Thalora said, unabashed. "But if being curious and talkative is a crime, lock me up. And speaking of curiosity..." She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "What exactly are you? I've seen shifters, gift wielders, and even a few travelers in my time, but you feel like something else entirely."
Cassiel felt her wings shift unconsciously, and her voice was careful. "You seem to like asking questions."
"Occupational hazard," Thalora said with a shrug. "Can't help myself. But don't worry, I won't pry. Much." She winked, then rose gracefully to her feet. "Tea?"
Cassiel blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden change in topic. "What?"
"Tea," Thalora repeated as she moved to a small table cluttered with cups and a steaming pot. "Unless you're one of those mortals who can't appreciate a good cup of forest brew. Though, come to think of it, you don't exactly seem mortal, do you?"
Cassiel didn't respond, unsure whether Thalora's questions were rhetorical. The woman poured the tea with practiced ease, the liquid a deep, rich amber that filled the air with a sweet, herbal aroma. She brought a cup to Cassiel, her grin returning.
"Here. It won't bite either," Thalora said, settling back onto her cushion with her cup.
Cassiel took the tea cautiously, the warmth spreading through her as she kept her eyes on Thalora.
"You're quiet," Thalora remarked, her voice lilting with curiosity. "Either you're thinking I'm a little much—fair, by the way—or you're wondering why Eramus sent you to me, of all people, for guidance."
"Both," Cassiel admitted, earning a bright laugh from Thalora.
"Well, allow me to satisfy that curiosity," Thalora said, leaning forward slightly. "Eramus might call me annoying, but even he can't deny my talents. You see, I have a very rare gift if I do say so myself."
Cassiel arched an eyebrow. "A gift?"
Thalora grinned, her expression shifting into something more serious but still tinged with her characteristic charm. "Oh, not like the shifters you've seen running around. My gift is... let's call it insight. I see things others can't—past, present, and future. People's souls leave a mark, and I can read them and glimpse their paths."
Cassiel's gaze sharpened, her wings shifting unconsciously. "You can see people's futures?"
"Not in a straightforward way," Thalora admitted, her voice growing quieter. "It's more instinctual. Glimpses, feelings. And when it really kicks in, it's not exactly... subtle. My gift doesn't like to play nice—it takes over and speaks for me. Makes me a lot of fun at parties."
"Is that why you live out here?" Cassiel asked, setting the cup down.
Thalora nodded, her playful demeanor dimming slightly. "Crowds are exhausting. Too many souls and too many threads to untangle. Out here, I can breathe." She tilted her head, studying Cassiel with an almost invasive curiosity. "And you? What thread do you carry, I wonder?"
Cassiel hesitated, her wings folding tightly against her back. "You're the second person I've met with a gift that isn't tied to shifting. First Eramus, now you."
Thalora blinked, surprised, before a sly smile spread across her face. "Second? Did Alyna not save you?"
Cassiel's brow furrowed. "She did, but—"
"Oh, she hasn't told you," Thalora interrupted, laughing softly. "Well, far be it from me to spoil her secret. Let's just say you've met more than two."
Cassiel frowned, filing the cryptic comment away for later. "Why wouldn't she tell me?"
"Some people like to keep things close to their chest," Thalora said breezily, though there was a flicker of something more in her gaze. "Don't worry. You'll find out soon enough."
Before Cassiel could press further, Thalora's tone shifted. "Now then, you've come here for a reason, right? Let's not waste any more time."
The air in the hut seemed to change subtly as Thalora straightened. Cassiel felt a faint shift as if the room was holding its breath.
"What are you doing?" Cassiel asked cautiously.
"Just a peek," Thalora murmured, her gaze locking onto Cassiel's.
Cassiel's body tensed as the warmth from the tea seemed to vanish, replaced by a cold pull deep in her core. Thalora's pupils dilated, her playful smirk replaced with a look of eerie focus.
The light in the room dimmed, and the air grew heavy. Cassiel felt a strange, intangible, yet overwhelming presence within her.
"Stop," Cassiel said sharply, but her voice faltered as Thalora's gift took over.