The chamber seemed colder now, as if Alden's decision had unsettled something in the very air around him. The Book of Shadows no longer pulsed in his hands, but he could still feel its presence, a weight that was more than physical. The stranger—silent, unreadable—watched him with those silver eyes that seemed to see beyond the present moment.
Alden swallowed hard. "What now?"
The stranger turned toward the stairwell. "Now, we leave Eldoria."
Alden stiffened. "Leave? Just like that?"
The stranger nodded. "There is no time to hesitate. The Order of the Hollow will sense the Mark's awakening soon, if they haven't already. Eldoria will not be safe for long."
Alden's mind spun. He had never left Eldoria before—not even ventured beyond the Silverwood that bordered the town. The idea of simply walking away from the only life he had ever known made his stomach twist.
"But my family—"
"They will be watched," the stranger interrupted. "And protected. But you must understand, Alden—if you stay, they will use them against you."
The words sent a sharp chill through him. He imagined his mother and father, his younger sister, the quiet life they had built here. He had never questioned why his parents had chosen to settle in such a hidden town, why they had never spoken of their past. But now, as pieces of his life began to rearrange themselves, he wondered: Had they always known?
The stranger turned to him again, softer this time. "If you stay, you put them at risk."
Alden closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. The weight of the Book, the Mark, the knowledge of what lay ahead—it all pressed against him at once.
Finally, he nodded. "Alright. We leave."
The stranger wasted no time. They led Alden up the spiraling staircase, their movements quick and precise. When they reached the stone wall at the top, the stranger murmured something under their breath, and the hidden passage melted open once more.
The streets of Eldoria were no longer silent.
The mist was thicker now, swirling unnaturally, as though something moved within it. The lanterns that usually burned with steady blue flames flickered wildly, casting distorted shadows on the cobblestone.
Alden swallowed. "Something's wrong."
The stranger was already scanning the darkness, tense. "They're here."
Then the air shifted.
Alden didn't see where they came from—one moment, the streets were empty, and the next, figures in dark robes emerged from the mist. Their faces were hidden beneath hoods, their hands clad in black gloves that shimmered faintly, as though woven from something otherworldly.
The Order of the Hollow.
Alden instinctively stepped back, his pulse hammering. The stranger, however, did not move.
One of the robed figures stepped forward. Their voice, when they spoke, was smooth, too calm for the tension in the air.
"You bear the Mark of Eldoria."
Alden's hand burned where the sigil lay, as if responding to their words. He clenched his fingers, heart pounding.
"Come with us," the figure continued. "There is no need for this to be difficult."
Alden barely had time to process before the stranger moved. In a single breath, they raised a hand, and the air between them and the Order cracked with sudden force. The lantern flames roared higher, the mist recoiling like a living thing.
Alden staggered back as a shockwave of energy erupted from the stranger's outstretched palm.
The robed figures reacted instantly. Shadows coiled around their hands, forming blades of pure darkness. The lead figure surged forward, too fast for a normal person, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.
Alden barely registered what was happening before the stranger met the attack head-on.
A clash of magic exploded in the street. The stranger moved with inhuman speed, countering the darkness with flashes of silver energy. The Order fought back with deadly precision, striking in near silence.
Alden could only watch, heart racing. He had never seen magic used like this—fluid, raw, violent. The street around them warped under the force of their battle, cobblestones cracking, shadows stretching unnaturally.
Then, one of the figures broke away from the fight—heading straight for Alden.
Panic shot through him. He had no weapon, no idea how to defend himself. But before he could react, the Book of Shadows in his arms pulsed.
And then… he felt it.
A deep pull in his chest, a sensation like falling and flying at once. Power thrummed in his veins, unfamiliar but intoxicating. His body moved before his mind caught up.
He raised his hand.
A pulse of golden light shot from his palm, striking the advancing figure square in the chest. The robed figure let out a sharp, unnatural hiss as they were flung backward, colliding with the stone wall of the Elder's Hall. The impact sent cracks splintering through the old stone, and the figure crumpled to the ground, unmoving.
Alden stared at his own hand, wide-eyed. The Mark still glowed, its warmth fading. He had no idea what he had just done.
The stranger, in the middle of battle, spared him a single glance—something like approval flashing in their silver eyes.
But there was no time to dwell. More figures were emerging from the mist, the street filling with the Order's presence.
"We need to go," the stranger said sharply, deflecting another attack. "Now!"
Alden didn't argue.
The two of them turned and ran.
As they fled through the twisting streets of Eldoria, Alden knew one thing for certain—there was no turning back now.
And somewhere in the darkness, unseen eyes watched.
A voice, low and knowing, whispered through the mist.
"The heir has awakened."