Morning arrives shrouded in thick mist, a pale veil that coils between the trees and drapes itself over the Western Guard Camp like the breath of something unseen.
The air is damp and heavy with the scent of wet earth and steel, and the ground is slick beneath the boots of a hundred soldiers as they assemble near the eastern gate.
This is not a morning of quiet preparation.
This is the morning of an offensive.
——
The advance force—a hundred strong—stands in tight formation, their figures barely visible through the mist. Their armour clinks softly as they adjust their weapons, their murmured conversations blending with the occasional snort of restless horses.
Some carry spears, others bows, and a few wield heavy axes and great swords—the kind meant to cleave through flesh and bone with a single swing.
Their objective?
To strike deep into Imp-infested territory, clearing a path for the larger force that would follow.
——
Captain Cliff (Commander of the Western Guard Camp) surveys the assembled soldiers from atop his horse, his expression impassive, unreadable.
"You all know your orders," he says, his voice cutting clean through the morning air. "Swift and precise. We move as one. The fog is an advantage, and please use it."
A few murmurs of assent ripple through the ranks.
Then, without further ceremony, the horn blows.
And the vanguard marches into the mist.
——
We do not go with them.
Elias, Edan, and I remain behind, watching as the fog swallows them whole, leaving behind only the faint echo of boots against the land, the fading glint of metal disappearing into grey.
I exhale, feeling the weight of silence settle in their wake.
"They'll be fine," Edan mutters, though whether he is trying to reassure us or himself, I do not know.
——
An hour later, Edan finds us an excuse to slip away.
We walk through the less patrolled sections of the camp, moving past half-unpacked supply wagons and stockpiles of arrows bundled in stacks along the palisades.
Eventually, we stop behind a makeshift tent, hidden from immediate view.
Edan kneels, retrieving something wrapped in thick cloth from a small satchel at his side.
He unties the fabric carefully—almost reverently.
And when the cloth falls away—
I see it.
A strange stone.
It is smaller than I expected—no larger than my palm—but its surface is strange, almost as if it is in constant motion, a shifting mass of deep obsidian veined with an eerie red glow that pulses ever so faintly, like a heart still beating.
——
Elias leans forward, his gaze locking onto the stone.
And then—
His expression changes.
——
I barely have time to process it before Elias lunges forward, snatching the stone from Edan's hands with frightening speed.
Edan jerks back, startled.
I take a step forward, reaching for Elias—but he is already biting down on it.
——
The crack of stone against teeth is sharp, and unnatural, a sound that makes my stomach twist.
"Elias!" I grab his wrist, trying to pull it away, but his grip is like iron.
His pupils have dilated, his breath ragged, his entire body trembling as if something inside him is waking up.
The stone shatters between his teeth, fragments dissolving into a black mist that seeps into his skin, disappearing into him as if it were never there to begin with.
——
For a moment, everything stills.
And then—
A wave of energy pulses outward, unseen but felt—a rippling, suffocating sensation that burrows into my bones, pressing against my skull like a second heartbeat.
The air around Elias distorts briefly, as if the world itself is struggling to accommodate something new, something changed.
——
Elias staggers, bracing a hand against the wooden post beside him.
Then—
He exhales, rolling his shoulders.
And when he looks up—
His eyes are darker.
Deeper.
Not just physically, but in a way I cannot describe.
As if he is looking at something we cannot see.
——
Edan stares, his expression caught between fascination and horror.
Then, voice low—
"Do you have any idea what you just did?"
Elias shrugs, still adjusting to whatever just happened to him.
"It looked like food."
——
I gape at him.
"That's your explanation? It looked like food?"
Elias grins, running a hand through his hair. "What? It did. Like some kind of dark candy."
Edan pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "Gods help me… it's a Black Stone."
He looks back at Elias, scanning him carefully.
"How do you feel?"
Elias tilts his head, considering.
Then—"Stronger. Faster. Sharper."
His fingers flex experimentally, as if testing something unseen.
"It's like…" He pauses, struggling for words. "Like something in me was hungry, and now it's been fed."
——
Edan clenches his jaw, taking a small step back.
He is not afraid.
But he is wary.
And I realise something.
This is the first time Edan has ever seen something like this.
The first time he has witnessed what happens when a Black Spirit takes in raw Black Stone.
And it is not at all what he expected.
——
"You shouldn't have done that," he says finally, voice firm.
Elias raises an eyebrow. "Why not? I feel great."
Edan's gaze sharpens. "Because you don't know what it's doing to you."
A pause.
Then, softer—"And neither do I."
——
Theories of Corruption
Edan rubs his temple, thinking fast.
"Black Stone and Black Spirits are connected. That much, we know."
He glances at Elias, eyes narrowed.
"But I always assumed the Black Spirit was the one controlling the process—that it was simply using the energy of the Black Stone to grow stronger."
A breath.
"But now… I'm not so sure."
——
I frown, arms crossing. "What do you mean?"
Edan's fingers tap against his arm, his mind already racing ahead.
"What if it's the opposite?"
——
The words hang heavy in the air.
I feel a slow coldness creeping up my spine.
Elias tilts his head. "Opposite how?"
——
Edan exhales.
"What if the Black Stone is actually the dominant force?"
——
Silence.
The implications are immediate.
——
Elias chuckles. "You're saying the Black Spirits are just—what? Vessels for something else?"
Edan nods slowly. "Or maybe not even that. Maybe they are simply… manifestations of Black Stone itself."
I inhale sharply.
"You mean they aren't their own beings?"
Edan hesitates.
Then—"Maybe they never were."
——
Elias hums. "So, what? You wanna test it?"
Edan's gaze flickers, sharp and calculating. "If we do, we need to be careful."
Elias grins. "Yeah, yeah. Careful. Got it."
Then—
He flexes his fingers.
And summons a fragment of that dark energy to his palm.
The air shudders, the shadows bending toward him.
The black mist coils, shifting, shifting—
And then—
It forms.
A small, shifting sphere—almost identical to the one we had seen before.
Almost.
But not quite.
Because this one—
It pulses and its colour, darker.
Like a heartbeat.
Like it is alive.
And Edan?
Edan watches carefully.
And I know—
This is just the beginning.