The morning sun barely pierced the thick canopy of the forest as Eira, Finn, and Captain Thorne resumed their journey north. The earthy scent of damp leaves and wild moss clung to the air. Birds chirped from distant branches, though their cheerful song did little to ease Eira's tension after the prowler attack the previous night.
They had been walking for hours in tense silence when Thorne spoke, his voice low and firm. "We need to pick up the pace. There are old ruins up ahead where we can rest before nightfall."
"Ruins?" Finn asked, his voice laced with curiosity. "What kind of ruins?"
"Ancient watchposts from the last great war," Thorne explained. "Most are abandoned, but they're safer than sleeping in the open."
Eira's gaze flickered to the trees on either side of the path. "And if they aren't abandoned?"
Thorne's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then we fight."
Finn shuddered but said nothing. Eira's grip on the Whispering Blade tightened. She had already faced shadowbeasts and prowlers. Whatever awaited them in the ruins, she would be ready.
They continued in grim determination, the forest thinning as they climbed a gentle slope. The trees grew sparse, revealing craggy rocks and patches of wildflowers that swayed in the cool breeze.
"There," Thorne said, pointing ahead.
A stone structure loomed in the distance, half-covered in ivy and weathered by time. Its roof had partially collapsed, and the walls were cracked, but it was still standing—a testament to ancient craftsmanship.
As they approached the entrance, Eira's senses prickled. The air felt thick, as though charged with unseen energy.
"Do you feel that?" she asked Thorne.
He nodded grimly. "Magic lingers here. Stay alert."
They stepped inside, the temperature dropping sharply. The interior was dark and musty, the faint scent of decay lingering in the air. Broken furniture and scattered debris littered the floor.
"Cozy," Finn muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"We'll make do," Thorne said. "I'll secure the perimeter. Eira, gather wood for a fire. Finn, stay here and clear a space for camp."
Eira didn't argue. The fresh air was a welcome relief after the stifling atmosphere of the ruins. She ventured into the nearby woods, her boots crunching on fallen leaves.
As she gathered branches, the Whispering Blade pulsed faintly against her back. She paused, her breath catching. The blade had never reacted without warning before.
"Is someone there?" she called out, her voice steady despite the knot of tension in her chest.
Silence answered her.
Shaking off the unease, Eira continued collecting wood. But the feeling of being watched persisted, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts.
When she returned to the ruins, Thorne had already lit a small fire. Finn was seated beside it, his face illuminated by the flickering flames.
"Anything?" Eira asked Thorne.
"Nothing unusual," he said, though his eyes remained sharp.
They ate a simple meal in silence. The warmth of the fire was comforting, but Eira couldn't shake the sense of impending danger.
As night fell, Thorne took the first watch again. Eira lay down beside Finn, who had already drifted off to sleep. Her body ached from the day's journey, but sleep eluded her.
She stared into the darkness, her thoughts tangled with doubts and fears. The hooded figure's words echoed in her mind: This is only the beginning.
Eira wasn't sure what was more terrifying—the unknown path ahead or the growing bond she felt with the Whispering Blade.
A sudden noise shattered the silence—a low, guttural growl that sent chills down her spine.
Eira shot up, her hand already on the hilt of the blade. Thorne was on his feet as well, his sword drawn.
"Stay by the fire," he ordered.
Finn stirred, blinking groggily. "What's happening?"
"Stay back," Eira hissed.
The growl came again, closer this time. The shadows beyond the firelight seemed to writhe and shift.
Eira's heart raced. She recognized that sound.
"Shadowbeast," she whispered.
The creature emerged from the darkness—a hulking mass of fur and muscle, its eyes burning like twin embers. Its claws gleamed in the firelight, and its maw was filled with jagged teeth.
Eira's breath caught. It was larger than the beast they had faced before, its presence suffocating.
"Get ready," Thorne said, his voice taut.
The shadowbeast let out a deafening roar and charged.
Thorne met it head-on, his sword clashing against its claws. Sparks flew as metal met bone. Eira circled to the side, the Whispering Blade humming in her grip.
The beast was fast—faster than anything she had faced before. It swiped at Thorne, forcing him back, then turned its burning gaze on Eira.
She raised the blade, its runes flaring to life. The light momentarily blinded the creature, giving her an opening.
Eira lunged, driving the blade toward its chest. But the beast was ready. It twisted, knocking her off balance. She hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from her lungs.
Finn's voice rang out. "Eira!"
"I'm fine!" she gasped, scrambling to her feet.
The beast roared again, but Thorne struck from behind, his blade slicing through its flank. Black ichor sprayed across the ground.
The creature howled in pain and whipped around, its claws raking across Thorne's arm.
"No!" Eira shouted, fury igniting within her.
The Whispering Blade blazed with light, responding to her anger. Eira moved with renewed speed, dodging the beast's attacks and striking with precision.
She drove the blade deep into its chest, light exploding from the wound.
The shadowbeast let out one final, ear-splitting screech before collapsing into ash.
Eira stood panting, her hands trembling. The blade's glow faded, leaving only faint runes shimmering along its surface.
Thorne clutched his bleeding arm but managed a grim smile. "Not bad."
Finn ran to Eira's side, his face pale. "You did it!"
Eira forced a weak smile. "We did it."
But as she looked at the ashes scattered across the ground, unease gnawed at her.
The road ahead was growing darker, and the shadows were closing in.
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