The Message

The halls of Eclipsevane were as quiet as they ever were, filled with an uneasy stillness that seemed to seep into the very stones. Kael sat at a worn bench in the courtyard, sharpening his dagger with deliberate, repetitive motions. The rhythmic scrape of metal against stone was soothing, giving his restless mind something to focus on.

He glanced toward the training grounds where Merrick and Jane stood, discussing details of the upcoming mission. Eryon was nearby, practicing with a wooden sword under the watchful eye of an older guild member. For a fleeting moment, things felt almost normal.

But then the silence was broken.

A heavy set of boots echoed down the stone pathway leading into the courtyard. A young guild member—barely more than a boy—rushed in, his face pale and his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. In his hand, he clutched a rolled parchment sealed with the guild's crest.

"Message from the watchtower to the North!" the boy shouted, his voice cutting through the air.

Heads turned as Merrick strode forward, taking the parchment from the boy's trembling hands. The older man broke the seal with practiced ease, his eyes scanning the words written in hastily scrawled ink. With each passing moment, his expression darkened.

Jane stepped closer, her brow furrowed. "What does it say?"

Merrick didn't answer immediately. Instead, he handed the parchment to her, his jaw tightening. "Read it yourself."

Jane took the parchment, her eyes darting across the text. When she finished, she looked up sharply, her face pale. "They've moved. The group from the North—they're no longer stationed there."

Kael's hand froze mid-motion, the blade of his dagger catching the light. He looked up, his stomach knotting with unease. "Where are they now?"

Jane's lips pressed into a thin line as she handed the message to Merrick, who read aloud for the benefit of those gathered.

"'The Northern forces have vacated their position and are advancing southward. Their path suggests they are heading in the direction of Alsta. Their leader, a woman wielding green magic, has been identified as the cause of widespread destruction along their route.'"

The courtyard fell deathly silent. Kael's breath caught in his throat, his grip on the dagger tightening until his knuckles turned white.

Alsta. No. It can't be.

He rose to his feet, his mind racing. "How long ago was this message sent?" he demanded, his voice sharper than he intended.

The boy who delivered the message shifted uncomfortably. "A day, maybe two. It came through one of the relay posts."

Kael turned to Merrick, his heart pounding. "We have to do something. If they're heading for Alsta—"

"Hold on," Merrick said, raising a hand to calm him. "We don't know for sure that Alsta is their target."

Kael shook his head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You just said they're heading south. That's the only village in their path, isn't it?"

Jane stepped forward, placing a hand on Kael's arm. "We'll figure this out," she said firmly, though there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "But we can't act rashly. Charging in without a plan won't help anyone."

Kael pulled away from her touch, his mind filled with the faces of those he had left behind. Lysa, Meryn, Bren… Are they already gone? Am I too late?

Merrick folded the parchment and slipped it into his coat. "We'll bring this to Elara," he said, his voice steady. "She'll make the final decision."

Kael opened his mouth to argue, but Jane shook her head, her gaze locking with his. "Trust us," she said softly. "We'll do what we can."

Kael hesitated, the conflict raging within him. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to head south and find out the truth for himself. But he knew he couldn't face whatever waited there alone.

Merrick motioned for Jane to follow as they headed toward Elara's chambers, leaving Kael standing in the courtyard. His dagger hung loosely in his hand, forgotten for the moment as his thoughts turned to Alsta.

Please, just let them be safe.

As Merrick and Jane disappeared down the corridor leading to Elara's chambers, Kael remained in the courtyard, his thoughts spiraling. The weight of the news about Alsta pressed heavily on his chest, but he forced himself to stay rooted. Rushing off now won't help anyone. I have to think. I have to be ready.

A faint clinking sound broke through his turbulent thoughts, drawing his attention toward the far side of the courtyard. There, crouched in the shadow of a weathered statue, was Eryon. The boy's back was to him, and his hands moved with meticulous care over something that gleamed faintly in the dim light.

Kael's heart skipped a beat. The shape, the shine—it was unmistakable.

"Eryon," Kael called out, his voice steady but firm as he approached. "What are you doing?"

The boy flinched, nearly dropping the object in his hands. He turned quickly, his wide eyes filled with guilt. "Kael! I—I was just looking! I swear!"

Kael crouched down to meet his gaze, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the dagger. It was sleek and dark, its blade faintly glowing with a deep crimson hue that pulsed like a heartbeat. Even before Kael touched it, he could feel the familiar hum vibrating through the air.

The Crimson Dagger.

"Where did you find that?" Kael asked, his voice low.

Eryon glanced nervously at the blade, then back at Kael. "I… I was exploring the storeroom near the armory. It was just lying there, hidden under some old crates. I thought it looked cool, so I brought it out to see what it could do."

Kael extended his hand. "Give it to me."

Eryon hesitated, his grip tightening on the dagger. "But… it feels special," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Like it's talking to me. Don't you feel it?"

Kael's stomach churned as the hum of the dagger grew louder in his ears, almost as if it recognized him. He grabbed Eryon's wrist gently but firmly, his voice cutting through the boy's daze. "Eryon. Now."

Reluctantly, Eryon handed the dagger over. The moment Kael's fingers closed around the hilt, a jolt shot through his arm, the hum resonating deep in his chest. Memories flickered at the edge of his mind—fragments of pain, rage, and loss—but he forced them down, focusing on the present.

"Don't ever touch this again," Kael said, his tone more forceful than he intended. "It's not a toy."

Eryon nodded quickly, his expression a mixture of fear and curiosity. "What is it, Kael? Why does it feel… alive?"

Kael stood, slipping the dagger into the sheath at his side. "It's nothing you need to worry about," he said, though his own mind was far from at ease. "Just… stay out of the storeroom from now on."

Eryon nodded again, watching as Kael walked away, the dagger's faint crimson glow still visible in the fading light.

Kael walked briskly away from the courtyard, his fingers clenched tightly around the hilt of the Crimson Dagger. The faint hum it emitted pulsed in time with his heartbeat, a rhythmic vibration that seemed to echo in his very bones. As he reached a secluded corner of the guild's outer wall, he paused, leaning against the cold stone to steady himself.

"Why now?" he muttered under his breath, glaring at the dagger as if it could answer him. "I haven't heard you in three years. What do you want?"

The hum deepened, resonating in his chest like a low, ominous drumbeat. And then, just as it had years ago, a voice spoke—not aloud, but in his mind. It was smooth, almost soothing, but laced with an undercurrent of something dark and insidious.

"What do I want? No, Changra. The question is—what do you want?"

Kael stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. The name hit him like a slap, jarring and foreign after all this time. "That's not my name anymore," he growled, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the dagger tightened. "Don't call me that."

The voice chuckled, the sound curling through his thoughts like smoke. "Oh, but it is your name. You can call yourself Kael, you can dress yourself in silver and gray, but you will always be Changra. You cannot escape who you are."

Kael's chest burned with anger, but he forced himself to stay calm. "I've left that name behind."

"Have you? Or have you just buried it beneath the lies you tell yourself? You can't hide from me, Changra. I know you better than anyone."

Kael's jaw tightened, his mind racing. "Why are you doing this now? I don't need you. I've moved on."

The hum grew louder, the dagger's glow intensifying as the voice continued. "Moved on? Look at you. Still holding me. Still running. Still consumed by the same rage, the same guilt. You can change your face, your name, your story, but you can never change what's inside you. Chaos. Rage. Pain."

Kael slammed the dagger against the stone wall, his voice rising. "That's not who I am anymore!"

The voice laughed softly, chilling and intimate. "Oh, but it is. You may try to deny it, Changra, but I can feel it. You carry me in your soul. You can't leave behind what we share."

Kael's breathing was ragged, his thoughts a tangle of fury and fear. "Why now? Why are you here?"

"Because you need me," the voice said simply. "Because they need you. Alsta burns, Changra. Your precious village. Your precious Lysa. Do you think you can save them without me?"

The mention of Alsta sent a chill through him, cutting through his anger like a knife. His mind raced, the thought of Lysa and Meryn in danger twisting his gut.

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "You're lying."

"Am I?" the voice replied, sharp and taunting. "Go ahead. Deny me. Let them suffer. Or… embrace me, Changra. Take my power, and you can save them. Be the hero they need."

The dagger's hum synchronized with his heartbeat, pulling him closer, luring him in. Kael stared at the blade, its crimson glow hypnotic. His hands trembled as he tightened his grip, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like a boulder.

"Kael!" a voice called from the distance, shattering his trance. He turned sharply, hiding the dagger behind his back as Merrick approached, his expression grim.

"We need you," Merrick said urgently. "Elara's calling for us. There's more to discuss about the Northern forces."

Kael nodded stiffly, the dagger's hum fading as he forced it back into its sheath. The voice retreated, leaving only a lingering whisper in his mind.

"Think about it, Changra. When the time comes, you'll know where to find me."

Kael clenched his fists as he followed Merrick through the winding halls of Eclipsevane. The sound of their boots against the stone echoed ominously, but it was the voice of the dagger—no, the voice in his head—that continued to reverberate.

"Changra," it had called him, again and again. The name felt like a chain around his neck, dragging him backward into memories he wanted to leave buried. He couldn't shake the weight of it, nor the promise laced within its taunting words.

"Kael." Merrick's voice cut through the haze, startling him. The older man glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. "You with me?"

Kael nodded quickly, masking his unease. "Yeah. Just thinking."

Merrick studied him for a moment before turning back toward their destination. "Elara's already on edge," he said, his tone grave. "The situation in the North… well, the message isn't the only report we've received. Things are worse than they seem."

Kael's stomach twisted, but he kept his voice steady. "What do you mean?"

"Disappearances," Merrick said bluntly. "Not just the guild members. Villagers, travelers—anyone who crosses their path. They don't leave survivors."

The words hit Kael like a blow. His mind immediately flashed to Alsta—Lysa, Meryn, Bren. He gritted his teeth, forcing the image away. Not yet. Don't let the fear win.

"Do we know who's leading them?" Kael asked, keeping his voice calm despite the storm brewing inside him.

Merrick hesitated, his hand brushing against the hilt of his sword. "A woman. She's been described as… erratic. Wielding green magic. Her forces follow her without question, as if she's their god." He glanced at Kael, his expression dark. "Her name is Berethia."

Kael felt a chill run down his spine. He forced himself to keep walking, matching Merrick's pace. "What's the plan?"

"That's what we're about to discuss," Merrick said grimly as they reached Elara's chambers.

The doors were already open, the faint murmur of voices spilling into the hallway. Kael followed Merrick inside, his eyes immediately finding Jane. She stood by Elara's side, her arms crossed and her expression tense. Elara herself was seated at the head of the table, her silver hair catching the light from the flickering torches.

"Elara," Merrick said, inclining his head. "We're here."

Elara looked up, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in Kael's presence. "Good," she said curtly. "We've wasted enough time already."

Kael stepped closer, his gaze flicking between the maps and documents spread across the table. The route of Berethia's forces was marked in red ink, a clear line cutting through the North and veering dangerously close to Alsta.

"This isn't just a raid," Elara said, her voice cold and clipped. "It's a campaign. She's moving with purpose, targeting villages systematically. If we don't act now, Alsta will be wiped off the map."

Kael's chest tightened. "Then we go."

Elara's eyes snapped to him, her expression unreadable. "You speak as though you're ready to lead the charge."

"I'll do whatever it takes," Kael said firmly, his hands balling into fists. "Just tell me where to start."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Elara studied him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "We'll need every able body we can spare," she said. "Merrick, Jane, and Kael will form the first wave. We'll need to intercept her before she reaches the village."

Jane shot a glance at Kael, her brow furrowing as if she wanted to say something. Merrick nodded solemnly, his hand resting on Kael's shoulder.

"Get some rest," Elara said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We leave at dawn."

Kael nodded, his mind already racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. As the meeting ended and the others filed out, he lingered for a moment, his hand brushing against the hilt of the Crimson Dagger.

"You'll need me, Changra," the voice whispered again, soft and insistent. "You can't save them without me."

Kael clenched his jaw, shoving the voice aside as he turned and walked out into the night.