The air in Eryndale was thick with twilight mist, curling through the ancient oaks and shrouding the forest in a ghostly haze. Lyra tightened her shawl around her shoulders as she stepped out of her cottage, the scent of herbs clinging to her skin. Her days were usually quiet, filled with the simple tasks of gathering plants and crafting remedies. But tonight, the stillness felt heavy, like the forest was holding its breath.
She paused, her basket clutched in one hand, as a faint sound reached her ears a rustling in the underbrush, too deliberate to be the wind. Her heart quickened. Living on the edge of the woods meant she was no stranger to wild animals, but this felt different. Dangerous.
Before she could retreat, a figure stumbled into view. Lyra froze. The man was tall, his frame broad and imposing even as he leaned heavily on a tree for support. His armor, dark as the shadows themselves, was battered and streaked with blood. His face was partially obscured by a hood, but she could see the sharp line of his jaw and the grim set of his mouth.
"Help me," he rasped, his voice low and raw.
Lyra hesitated. Every instinct told her to run, to lock her door and pretend she hadn't seen him. But something in his tone a desperation that cut through the fear rooted her in place.
"You're hurt," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Come inside. Quickly."
The man staggered forward, and she rushed to his side, slipping an arm around his waist to support him. His body was tense, radiating heat and the sharp tang of blood. As they crossed the threshold of her cottage, Lyra felt the weight of his presence as if he carried the shadows of the forest with him.
Kieran barely registered the warmth of the room or the soft glow of the fire as Lyra guided him to a chair. His vision swam, but he forced himself to stay alert. He couldn't afford to let his guard down, not here, not now. The Duskwraiths were close; he could feel their malice pressing against the edges of his mind like icy tendrils.
"Sit still," Lyra commanded, her hands already working to unbuckle his armor. Her touch was firm but gentle, and he found himself obeying despite the instinct to push her away. She didn't flinch at the sight of his wounds, though her brow furrowed in concern.
"What happened to you?" she asked, her voice soft but insistent.
Kieran's jaw tightened. "It's better if you don't know."
"You're bleeding all over my floor. I think I deserve an answer," she shot back, her green eyes flashing with determination.
He almost smiled at her defiance. Almost. But the weight of his mission crushed any amusement.
"They're coming," he said instead, his voice a low growl. "If you value your life, you'll leave this place. Now."
Lyra straightened, her hands stilling for a moment. Then she resumed cleaning the gash on his shoulder, her movements brisk. "I've lived here my whole life. I'm not running because some stranger shows up with cryptic warnings."
Kieran's gaze locked on hers, and for a moment, the tension crackled between them. "You don't understand. The Duskwraiths"
"The what?" she interrupted, her tone skeptical.
"Creatures of shadow," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They feed on fear and despair. They've been hunting me, and now they'll come for you."
Lyra's hands faltered, and he saw the flicker of fear in her eyes before she masked it with resolve. "Then we'll deal with them when they come. But right now, you need to stay alive."
As the night deepened, Lyra worked tirelessly, her fingers deft as she stitched his wounds and applied poultices. Kieran watched her in silence, his mind churning. She was brave, he'd give her that. Foolish, but brave. He hadn't expected to find someone like her here someone who reminded him of a life he'd lost long ago.
When she finally sat back, her hands smeared with salve, she let out a weary sigh. "There. You'll live."
"Thank you," he said, the words unfamiliar on his tongue.
She looked at him then, really looked, and he felt as if she could see past the armor, past the shadows, to the man beneath. It was unsettling.
"Who are you?" she asked quietly. "And why are you really here?"
Kieran hesitated. The truth was dangerous, but lying to her felt… wrong.
"My name is Kieran," he said finally. "I'm searching for the Keeper."
Her brow furrowed. "The Keeper? What is that?"
"A guardian," he said. "Someone with the power to protect this realm from the darkness that's coming."
Lyra's laugh was soft but bitter. "Well, you've come to the wrong place. I'm just an herbalist."
Kieran's gaze bore into hers. "You're more than that. You have to be."
Before she could respond, a chill swept through the room, extinguishing the fire. Lyra gasped as the shadows seemed to ripple and shift, coalescing into forms that oozed malice.
"Stay behind me," Kieran said, his voice sharp. He rose, pain forgotten, and drew a blade that gleamed with an otherworldly light.
Lyra's heart pounded as the creatures advanced, their eyes glowing like embers in the dark. She clutched a knife from her table, her hands trembling. "What are those?"
"Duskwraiths," Kieran said grimly. "And they won't stop until they've consumed everything."
The first wraith lunged, and Kieran moved with a speed and precision that left Lyra breathless. His blade cut through the shadowy form, which dissolved with an anguished wail. But more wraiths poured in, their numbers overwhelming.
Lyra's instincts took over. She grabbed a jar of powdered wolfsbane and flung it at one of the creatures. To her shock, it recoiled, hissing as the powder burned its form.
"Wolfsbane," she muttered, her mind racing. She grabbed more jars from her shelves, hurling their contents with desperate precision. Beside her, Kieran fought like a man possessed, his movements fluid and lethal.
Finally, the last wraith fell, and the room fell silent. Lyra sank to the floor, her chest heaving.
Kieran turned to her, his expression unreadable. "You're not just an herbalist," he said, his voice low. "You're the Keeper."
Lyra stared at him, her mind reeling. She wanted to deny it, to cling to the life she'd known. But deep down, she felt the truth of his words. And it terrified her.
Outside, the wind howled, carrying with it the promise of more shadows to come.