The Road of Shadows

Having never ventured far beyond Eldrin's outskirts, he was now walking on a road that stretched out into unknown. This time, he had the weight of an ancient weapon digging into his back.

The journey to Ardentia took at least a fortnight on foot, the path ahead winding through thick forests, rolling hills, and long-forgotten ruins. But as he walked, a feeling of unease settled deep in his chest.

He wasn't alone.

The woods lining the dirt road were too quiet. The usual sounds of rustling leaves and chirping birds had vanished, replaced by an unnatural stillness.

Aeron tightened his grip on the hammer's strap. Something was watching him.

The Whispering Shade

As the sun dipped below the horizon, he decided to make camp near an outcropping of rocks. He gathered what little firewood he could find and struck a spark, the small flame casting flickering shadows around him.

Then he heard it.

A whisper.

Not the wind. Not the trees.

It was a voice low and slithering, curling through the darkness like it had a life.

"Chosennnn… We seeeee you."

Aeron sprang to his feet, hammar in hand. Shadows beyond the fire twisted unnaturally together, breeding into a hooded figure.

It wasn't solid. It was darkness given form.

"The Riftguard are no more," the thing rasped, its hollow eyes glowing with eerie blue light. "You carry a burden that is not yours."

Aeron swallowed hard. "Who—what are you?"

The shade took a step forward, its form shifting like smoke. "A messenger. A warning. Turn back, or be consumed."

Aeron's grip on the hammer tightened. He could feel it thrumming again, responding to the presence of the shade.

Not an option," he said.

The shade let out a rattling laugh. "Then you will die."

The Battle of Light and Shadow

The shade lunged.

Aeron barely had time to react before it was on him, its clawed hand swiping for his chest. He threw himself backward, swinging the hammer in a wide arc.

The weapon flared with silver fire as it contacted. The shade screamed, its shape unwinding for an instant before knitting together again.

"You wield a fading power," it spat. "But it won't save you."

Aeron clenched his teeth. Hammer had hurt it, but was not going to kill it. He had to think quick.

He concentrated on the hammer, drawing more power onto it. Then, the flames from before raced through his limbs, and when he swung that hammer, fire erupted from runes on the axe head, true fire.

Once again, with a swing Aeron tore down the flames.

The creature produced an unearthly scream as disintegrated ashes fell off in its form, and then dead silence fell, once again, over the hall.

Aeron stood there, chest heaving, staring at the spot where the shade had been.

This was no random attack.

Something—someone—had sent that thing after him.

And they weren't done yet.

A Shadowy Warning

As Aeron kicked dirt over the dying embers of his fire, he spotted something in the ash left behind by the shade—a blackened sigil, burned into the ground.

It was a symbol he didn't recognize—a swirling eye surrounded by jagged lines.

He twisted his stomach over.

This wasn't a threat.

It was a sign.

Someone knew he was coming. And they watched.

Taking another deep breath, Aeron tied his cloak at the neck and set off onto the road again. The adventure had barely gotten underway, yet darkness was pressing in on every side.

He didn't stop now.

Not ever.