Elmer's consciousness hovered in a strange in-between, caught between waking reality and something deeper—older—fragmented. His mind was weightless, adrift in shadows that pulsed with an eerie, crimson glow.
Then, a voice—ancient, familiar, and unwavering—echoed through the void.
"Awaken, my boy, for you have more to accomplish."
The words sent a tremor through his soul, a sensation that wasn't pain, but something close. Like a long-dormant ember rekindled by unseen hands.
Elmer gasped awake, his body jolting upright.
Elmer struggled to piece together his thoughts. His mind felt hazy, as if something had tried to overwrite a part of his memory. But the sensation of burnt embers and the echo of that voice—it was still there, clinging to him like an afterimage.
His fingers twitched, brushing against his pocket. Something pulsed beneath the fabric.
The fragment. It was still there. Warm. Beating in sync with his pulse.
His father exhaled, a slow, measured breath. "You need to be more careful, Elmer."
No anger. No panic. Just monitoring.
Like they had expected this.
Elmer forced himself to sit up, his head still swimming. "I—I must've passed out."
His mother knelt beside him, studying his face too closely. Then, after a pause, she reached out and touched his forehead. The gesture was soft, but her fingers were cold, like stone.
Her eyes flickered with something unreadable.
"Elmer," she said again, softer this time. "What did you see?"
Elmer hesitated.
How could he explain it? The passageway. The torches that lit on their own. The ancient, crimson glow. The voice that spoke in a tongue that shouldn't have made sense—but did.
And the fragment.
Something told him he shouldn't mention it.
"I don't know," he lied. "Just... darkness."
His parents exchanged a glance—so quick, so subtle, but he caught it.
They didn't believe him.
His father's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His mother only nodded, her expression unreadable.
Then, after a long moment, she finally spoke. "You should rest."
Her words felt more like an order than a suggestion.
Elmer pushed himself to his feet. His muscles ached in places they shouldn't. Not from exhaustion, but as if something had drained him.
The moment he stood, his mother and father stepped back at the same time. The movement was too synchronized, too measured.
They're watching me.
But why?
Elmer lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
But he couldn't sleep.
Something in his chest felt... off. Like a string was pulling him forward, demanding he move.
He turned over, eyes narrowing at the small, dimly lit window. Beyond the glass, the town rested in eerie silence beneath the moon's pale glow.
That's where I need to go.
The thought struck so suddenly, so certainly, that he barely questioned it.
Without hesitation, Elmer climbed out of bed, dressed quickly, and slipped into the hall.
The mansion was silent. Too silent.
Not even the usual shifting of the house's wooden frame. No candlelight spilling from beneath his parents' door.
It was as if the house was holding its breath.
Elmer didn't stop to question it. He moved.
Through the long, twisting corridors. Past the endless portraits of ancestors he never met. Toward the door.
And then—he was outside.
The wind was cold against his skin, but the pull in his chest only grew stronger.
The town waited.
Elmer's boots clicked against the cobblestone streets, the sound swallowed by the unnatural stillness.
The town was... different.
The streets, usually warm with light from nearby homes, felt abandoned. Shadows stretched longer than they should have, reaching toward him like grasping fingers.
Something about the air felt heavier here.
He moved cautiously, eyes flicking from one darkened alley to the next.
Something was off.
And then—a movement.
Elmer turned a corner and caught something in the periphery of his vision—a figure slipping into an alley.
His heartbeat quickened. Not just any figure.
The movement was... too controlled. Too precise.
He picked up his pace, his pulse hammering. But as he rounded the alley—
Nothing.
Just silence.
And yet... the feeling of unseen eyes never left him.
A whisper. Soft as breath.
"A traveler of fire walks among us again."
Elmer's body locked in place.
The voice was old, weathered—but knowing.
His gaze snapped toward a shadowed corner.
There—an old woman stood hunched against the alley wall, wrapped in layers of dark cloth. Her face was mostly veiled, but her pale, almost skeletal fingers curled around a wooden staff.
She was watching him.
"Elmer Smith," she murmured. "The Veilborn have noticed you."
His stomach twisted.
Veilborn.
That word. Why did it sound so familiar?
"What are you talking about?" His voice came out sharper than intended.
The old woman smiled, but it wasn't comforting.
"Run while you still can."
Then—she was gone. Elmer stood frozen long after the old woman had vanished.
The Veilborn have noticed you.
The words lingered like an echo in his mind, chilling him in a way that went beyond the night air.
I have to keep moving.
His feet carried him forward almost instinctively. The pull in his chest grew stronger, guiding him through the town's winding streets.
Eventually, he found himself standing before the Hollow Lantern.
The tavern was different from the rest of the town. Unlike the abandoned streets, this place felt... alive.
A warm, amber glow flickered through the open doorway. The distant murmur of voices spilled out like a secret being whispered behind closed doors.
Elmer hesitated, glancing over his shoulder.
The town was silent. Too silent.
With a steadying breath, he stepped inside.
The moment Elmer crossed the threshold, the energy of the room shifted.
Eyes turned toward him.
Not in hostility. Not even in curiosity.
In recognition.
He didn't belong here. But somehow, they knew him.
The tavern itself was warm—too warm. The air hummed with conversation, yet felt suffocatingly thick. The scent of spiced ale and burnt wood clung to the walls.
Elmer's boots barely made a sound against the worn wooden floor as he moved deeper inside.
At the far end, near the bar, a group of men spoke in hushed tones.
He slowed his steps.
"...more Veilborn have been sighted..."
Elmer's breath hitched.
"...the Ruinbrand's presence grows..."
The word struck him like a physical force.
Ruinbrand.
It pulled at something buried deep inside him. A memory he didn't have.
He could feel it now, stirring beneath his skin.
"...if the Fire returns, what then?"
A cold shiver crawled up his spine.
Then—
"Elmer Smith."
The voice cut through the murmurs like a knife.
Elmer turned sharply.
A man sat alone at the bar. His deep-set gray eyes studied him, fingers absently tracing the rim of his glass.
"You have the look of one who has lost something," the man mused.
Elmer tensed. "Do I know you?"
The man chuckled, though his smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Not yet."
The stranger leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, boy, do you know what a Veilborn is?"
Elmer shook his head slowly.
The man's expression darkened.
"Good," he murmured. "That means you still have time."
Before Elmer could speak, a shift swept through the room.
The lanterns flickered violently.
The warmth that had filled the tavern only moments ago vanished.
A heavy silence fell over the room. Thick. Suffocating.
Elmer's pulse thundered in his ears.
Then—a vision slammed into his mind.
Fire devouring a city. Screams tearing through the night. Shadows writhing just beyond the veil of reality.
He stumbled back, gripping the bar for balance.
What the hell is happening to me?
Patrons stirred from their seats, their faces paling. They could feel it too.
Then—
The door burst open.
The tavern fell into utter silence.
A man stepped through the threshold, moving with an eerie, deliberate calm.
His coat billowed slightly, though there was no breeze. His presence alone seemed to warp the space around him.
His eyes—cold, piercing—locked onto Elmer instantly.
Elmer's breath caught in his throat.
I don't know him.
And yet—something deep inside him did.
The man—Kaspar.
He tilted his head slightly, studying Elmer like an old relic lost to time.
Then, he spoke.
"You."
The single word carried weight. Finality.
Elmer's muscles tensed instinctively.
Kaspar took a step forward. "I've been looking for you."
The weight of those words settled deep in Elmer's bones.
Something was wrong.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Before Elmer could respond, the room erupted.
The lanterns shattered, plunging the tavern into flickering darkness.
Shadows coiled unnaturally, writhing like living things.
And then—movement.
Not just from Kaspar.
From the shadows themselves.
A presence stirred, rising from the darkness beyond the veil of reality.
Kaspar's eyes gleamed.
"Run, Ruinbrand."
Elmer's breath caught.
Then—
The shadows lunged.