Shadows of Conscience

The world blurred around us as our horses thundered down the road, hooves pounding against the dirt. Erin—that was the name of the village—faded into the distance, swallowed by the creeping darkness we had left behind.

We should have been resting by now, finally easing the exhaustion that clung to our bones after what had happened earlier. Instead, sleep was the last thing on our minds. We had sensed something earlier in the clearing near the stream—a presence that set every nerve on edge. That was why we were riding away now, faster than we should have been, as if something unseen was chasing us.

I clenched the reins, my jaw tightening as I tried to steady my breathing. I remember the Queen's orders, and it had been clear to us: Do not engage.

We weren't meant to fight, only to investigate and report back. But how could I justify riding away while innocent people were left to fend for themselves?

"They'll be fine," Valtor's voice cut through the wind beside me. His stallion kept pace with mine, his posture as composed as ever, even as exhaustion weighed on all of us. "Once we figure this out, we will report back to the Crown and send reinforcements."

I shot him a glare. "It would be too late."

His storm-gray eyes flicked toward me, impassive. "We have to follow the Queen's order."

Easy for him to say. He had been raised in this world—born into nobility, trained in war. He understood duty in a way I struggled with. But I had spent my life in the Priesthood of Knowledge, studying history, philosophy, and magic. And history had shown me one thing—doing nothing could be just as damning as doing the wrong thing.

Seraph, riding ahead of us, cast a glance over his shoulder. His usual carefree demeanor was dulled by tension, his grip firm on the reins. "I hate to say it, but Valtor's right. We weren't sent here to fight."

I exhaled, the weight of retreat sitting heavy in my chest. "Maybe not. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Beside Seraph, Elara turned back toward Erin, the village, her expression shadowed with guilt. She wasn't any happier about leaving than I was.

Seraph sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "As much as it pains me to agree with the brooding one, we need to see this through." He shot Valtor a look. "Enjoy it while it lasts. I don't hand out agreements lightly."

Valtor didn't even dignify that with a response.

Seraph leaned back in his saddle, stretching his arms as if shaking off the weight of the conversation. "But I'm cool with everything. So long as we put up a good fight and have relentless adventures, I'm up for the challenge."

Elara shot him a sharp look. "This isn't a competition, Seraph. It's a mission to uncover the truth behind these disturbances."

Seraph gave a lazy shrug. "Who says it can't be both?"

Elara huffed, clearly unimpressed, but before she could retort, Herold—who, for once, wasn't making a joke—spoke up. He rode slightly behind, his usual lazy posture gone, his sharp eyes scanning the road ahead. "We need to keep moving. Something about that attack didn't feel right."

I didn't disagree.

None of us did.

That thing—the living shadow—was unlike anything I had ever encountered before. It had moved with intelligence, targeting the strongest fighters first, forcing the rest into disarray. And when I had tried to use my magic...

I swallowed hard.

It had responded.

The darkness within me—the power I could barely control—had stirred when I faced that creature. It had recognized something in me. And for a terrifying moment, I had almost let it consume me.

I shook the thought away. Now wasn't the time.

We rode in tense silence, the only sounds the rhythmic gallop of hooves and the distant echo of battle behind us. But as we reached the tree line, a sudden shift in the air made my skin prickle.

"Something's wrong," I said, pulling my horse to a stop.

The others did the same, scanning our surroundings. The forest loomed ahead, a wall of dense foliage and towering oaks. The wind had stilled. Even the birds had gone silent.

Seraph muttered a curse. "Please tell me we didn't just ride into another ambush."

A rustle in the underbrush was our only warning before the first shadow moved.

It lunged from the trees, tendrils of darkness coiling like smoke. It wasn't alone. More emerged from the shadows, their forms shifting and flickering, never fully solid yet disturbingly real.

"Move!" Valtor barked, drawing his sword in one fluid motion.

The shadows struck.

Elara loosed an arrow before her horse had even fully turned, ice trailing behind the shot. It struck one of the creatures, freezing its tendrils mid-motion. Seraph followed, lightning crackling from his fingertips as he sent a bolt crashing into another.

Herold's illusions flickered around us, mirroring our forms, making our numbers seem greater than they were. The wraiths hesitated, their inhuman eyes darting between the false images, uncertain of where to strike.

And then there was me.

I had no sword. No bow. No lightning or illusions. Just my magic and my staff.

And I didn't trust it.

One of the creatures lunged faster than I could react. I barely had time to throw up a hand before instinct took over.

Light flared from my palm, pure and searing. The creature shrieked, its form sizzling against the glow as it staggered back. A moment of victory—brief, fleeting.

Because as soon as my light faded, I felt it—the pull.

Like a whisper curling in the back of my mind.

You can do more than this.

The air thickened. My vision blurred at the edges. The power inside me stirred—not just in response to the creatures but to me. It wanted out.

I stumbled back, breath hitching.

"Aric!"

Elara's voice cut through the haze just as another shadow lunged.

I twisted aside, barely avoiding its strike. The cold scrape of its claws skimmed my shoulder, searing pain lancing through me. I hit the ground hard, breath knocked from my lungs.

Before I could recover, another figure was there.

Valtor.

His sword sliced through the air, the wind following his movements, a force all its own. The shadow reeled back, its form breaking apart before reforming again. Valtor turned, his storm-gray eyes locking onto mine.

"Get it together," he snapped. No mockery. No arrogance. Just urgency.

I gritted my teeth, pushing to my feet. Another wraith came at me. I forced my magic forward—only light, only what I could control. A burst of energy shot from my hands, colliding with the creature and sending it skidding back.

Not enough to destroy it. But enough to hold it at bay.

The battle rages on around us.

Elara loosed arrow after arrow, her magic freezing anything that got too close. Seraph fought like a tempest unleashed, lightning crackling along his arms, his strikes fueled by raw power. Herold's illusions weaved confusion into the chaos, leading the creatures to attack nothing but air.

And Valtor—Valtor was a storm given form. His blade danced with brutal precision, every movement honed and deliberate. Wind howled around him, turning his strikes into something almost effortless.

I hated to admit it. But he was good.

And I—

I was struggling just to stand my ground.

The power inside me was rising, clawing to be free. The darkness wanted to be used. And the worst part? I knew it would be easier if I let it.

I knew I would be stronger.

But at what cost?

A wraith lunged for me—faster than the last.

I reacted on instinct.

Darkness answered.

Tendrils lashed from my fingertips, coiling around the creature before I even realized what I had done. It shrieked, its form unraveling as the dark energy tore through it, leaving nothing but mist in its wake.

I froze.

The battlefield blurred. My breath came fast and shallow.

That wasn't light magic. That was—

A hand grabbed my wrist.

Valtor.

His grip was iron, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those sharp, storm-gray eyes—were locked onto mine.

He had seen it.

He had felt it.

And for the first time, he didn't look at me with arrogance or rivalry.

He looked at me like he was trying to understand.

I yanked my hand free, shoving the darkness down before it could take hold again.

"We need to get out of here," I said, my voice raw.

Valtor hesitated—just for a moment—then nodded. "Agreed."