The common hall settled into a tranquil murmur as the evening wound down. The golden glow of lanterns softened the edges of the wide, rough-hewn timbers that formed the walls, illuminating clusters of villagers lingering over half-empty mugs of ale. Warmth radiated from the large stone hearth at one end of the room, drawing tired travelers and locals alike into its gentle embrace. The sounds of the night—crickets chirping outside in the fields, distant soft whooshes of the wind rolling across the plains—folded seamlessly into the low hum of voices. Plates clinked faintly as they were cleared from tables, the occasional laugh or spirited whisper filling the gaps between muted conversations.

  Arien worked steadily at one of the larger tables, stacking plates into precarious towers, though his mind was far from the task at hand. He could feel the smooth texture of the wooden table beneath his fingertips, each gouge and scratch telling a silent story of the guests that had come and gone over the years. Every so often he would catch the faintest whiff of roasted vegetables and spiced meats from earlier in the evening, though now only the lingering aromas remained. Across from him, Lila moved with practiced efficiency, her dark braid beginning to slip free from its ribbon. Every few seconds, she had to brush a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes, normally bright with amusement or exasperation at Arien’s antics, were tired but content, reflecting a satisfaction in a job nearly done for the night.

  He couldn’t help but glance at her every now and then, the subtle details of her expression a small comfort amidst his swirling curiosity. They had grown up in this village—just two of many farm kids who had drifted into adulthood through the rhythms of harvest and planting. Now, as they both stood on the cusp of new possibilities, Arien found he noticed little changes in her more often: the way her face softened when she was thoughtful, the steely determination in her gaze when she was focused. Yet despite the undercurrent of warmth he felt when looking at Lila, something more pressing weighed on his mind.

  His eyes flicked to the hearth near the center of the hall, where Kael’s usual seat sat empty. The old man was typically a fixture of these evenings, sipping on ale that seemed never-ending, while spinning stories that braided humor with the faintest edge of mystery. Kael would often speak of legends that most dismissed as mere fancy, tales of knights wandering cursed forests, or lost cities hidden by illusions, or ancient beasts that roamed the distant reaches of Ardalis. Children and adults alike would listen, entranced. But tonight, his absence hung over the room like an unanswered question, each passing minute adding weight to the worry gathering in Arien’s gut.

  “Something’s off,” Arien muttered under his breath, barely aware that he’d spoken aloud. He felt the needling discomfort in his chest that warned him of something amiss, as though the normal patterns of life had tilted just enough to be noticeable.

  Lila looked up from the stack of plates she was wrestling onto a nearby shelf. Her dark brows rose in a silent question. “What is?”

  “Kael,” he said, nodding toward the empty corner and the cold hearth. “He’s gone. He never leaves before the ale runs out, let alone before the stories. Not once that I can remember.” His voice trembled with an undercurrent of unease, as though just speaking it made the situation more real.

  Lila followed his gaze, the lanternlight gleaming off the coppery highlights in her hair. Her brow furrowed. “Maybe he finally decided to act his age and get some sleep. He is old, Arien. Even you have to admit that.”

  Arien snorted softly, amusement coloring his features. He could still smell the lingering traces of spilt beer on the floor near the hearth, a scent that conjured up images of Kael’s distinctive presence. “Kael? The man could outlast the moon if someone kept pouring his drink. No, something’s up.” He exhaled, remembering how Kael would always nod to him with a slight twinkle in his eye—a silent acknowledgement of some shared secret Arien hadn’t yet deciphered.

  Lila shook her head and returned to her work, stacking utensils with methodical care. “Maybe he’s just being sensible for once. You don’t need to go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  The corners of Arien’s mouth tugged upward in a half-smile, though a current of concern ran beneath it. He leaned on the table, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial hush. “But where’s the fun in that? Besides,” he added, glancing at the door leading out to the village streets, “if he’s missing, and Aunt Ael’s missing...”

  Lila froze for a fraction of a second, her dark eyes flaring with a warning spark. The lamplight caught the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead, a combination of the evening’s work and sudden tension. She pressed her lips into a thin line. “Arien,” she warned quietly, “don’t even think about it.”

  “Oh, I’m definitely thinking about it,” he replied with a grin that didn’t quite reach his worried eyes. Curiosity thrummed through him like an itch he couldn’t scratch. “Come on, aren’t you curious? Kael and Ael, alone together, in some secret meeting? That’s like... a thunderstorm waiting to happen. Don’t you want to know what they’re up to?”

  “No,” she said flatly, though the subtle waver in her voice betrayed her interest. “And you shouldn’t either. You know how she gets. She’s not exactly forgiving if she catches us meddling.”

  “I also know how good I am at not getting caught,” Arien countered, his voice turning mischievous. “Please, Lila. Just a quick peek, just enough to figure out why they both disappeared so suddenly.”

  She set a plate down with more force than necessary, making it clatter loudly in the near-empty hall. One of the village elders glanced over, but Lila ignored them, narrowing her eyes at Arien. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble,” she hissed. A flicker of concern rippled through her expression, as though she could already see the lecture Ael would deliver.

  “Probably,” Arien said with a shrug, that cheeky grin back in place. “But that’s future Arien’s problem. Right now, present Arien is way too curious to let this go.”

  Lila sighed, glancing from Arien to the door. She was clearly torn between her better judgment and the burning questions that had begun swirling in her own mind. Her fingers fidgeted with the corner of her apron, twisting and untwisting the cloth in tight coils. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, she relented. “Fine. But if we get caught, you’re explaining it. And don’t you dare throw me under the cart.”

  “Deal,” Arien said, trying to tamp down his rising excitement so it wouldn’t shine too obviously in his eyes. “You’re the best, you know that?”

  “I know,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she followed him toward the door. Her steps were careful to avoid any stray chairs or table legs, but she couldn’t entirely hide the spark of curiosity lighting her gaze. Together, they slipped out of the hall, leaving behind its warmth and noise for the crisp night air that greeted them like a bracing splash of cold water. Above them, the stars glittered, silent and watchful, as though they too were curious to see what trouble Arien and Lila would find.

  Outside, the village of Rivendon lay mostly asleep. By day, it was a bustling place of thatched-roof cottages, dusty roads, and farmland stretching to the horizon, all bustling with the industry of sowing and reaping. Children chased each other between wagons loaded with produce, and blacksmiths hammered out horseshoes for passing merchants. But now, in the late hours, a hush blanketed the narrow lanes. Shadows of shutters and eaves stretched across the dirt paths, and the faint, flickering light from scattered lanterns gave the place a ghostly stillness. The wind carried the scent of hay and tilled earth, mingling with the lingering moisture in the air. Occasionally, a stray dog barked in the distance, or a distant creak of a sign swinging from a shop’s entrance would remind them that life still pulsed here, even at night.

  Arien and Lila moved through the lantern-lit darkness with a practiced quiet. They had, after all, spent plenty of late nights sneaking out as children, chasing after everything from harmless dares to stolen orchard apples. But this time felt different. A subtle gravity weighed on them, as if the village itself held its breath.

  The apothecary’s shop stood at the far end of the village square, its tall shutters drawn against the cool night. The sign, a faded green carving of an herb leaf, creaked gently on its chain. Arien motioned for Lila to follow close. The starlight glinted off stray bits of broken glass in the alley beside the building, a remnant from some long-forgotten accident. They took care where they stepped, each footfall pressing into the soft dirt with muffled thuds.

  The night seemed to deepen around them, the shadows stretching longer in the dim glow of the moon as Arien and Lila crouched by the apothecary window. Through a thin gap in the shutters, the faint glow of rune-lamps spilled forth, casting fragmented lines of pale light across the ground. Arien could smell the pungent mixture of herbs and tinctures emanating from within, a sharp tang that stung his nostrils. Inside, Ael’s and Kael’s voices wove a tense, urgent rhythm that seemed to pull the very air taut around the two eavesdroppers.

  Arien shifted slightly, leaning closer to the wooden frame, his breath shallow in order to avoid making noise. Lila, beside him, fidgeted, her fingers nervously twisting the frayed edges of her sleeves. Each rustle of her clothing sounded louder than it should, amplified by their shared apprehension. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

  He gave her a quick side glance, lips curving into a wry grin despite the coil of tension in his gut. “Not at all,” he admitted softly, “but we’re already here. Might as well figure out what’s so important that they had to hide away for it.”

  Inside, Ael’s voice rose, sharp with anger that lashed through the muffled quiet. “How could it be stolen?” she demanded, her tone so biting that Arien felt the urge to recoil. “It’s supposed to be... well, let’s just say it should protect itself.”

  Arien frowned, exchanging a puzzled look with Lila. The notion of an item “protecting itself” pricked his curiosity like a burr under the skin. In his seventeen or so years, he had never heard anything quite like that. Normally, items were guarded, placed in lockboxes, or hidden away. But Ael’s choice of words suggested some sort of self-sustaining defense, a magical property perhaps. He raised a brow at Lila, who looked just as mystified. Taking a stabilizing breath, he turned his ear back to the gap in the shutters, determined to catch every word.

  Kael’s reply came next, and the gravity in his voice made Arien’s heart thud louder. “It happened somehow,” the old man said grimly. There was none of the usual jovial lift in his words; instead, his tone carried the weight of a burden he’d borne far too long. “And I need your help to track down the thief. We have to recover the item before something worse happens.”

  A pause followed, as if the air inside the apothecary had frozen. The quiet between their voices felt charged, the lingering hush of two powerful figures measuring each other’s resolve. When Ael spoke again, it was with that trademark edge of mockery Arien recognized from his childhood. “Losing your edge, old man? And now you need me to prop you up?”

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  He could practically hear Kael’s teeth grinding in irritation. “Don’t start with me, Ael,” Kael responded, his voice dangerously low. “This isn’t one of your games. It’s too important for petty—” He cut himself off, the rest of his retort hanging in the air, unspoken. Then, after a moment, he continued more quietly, though no less intensely. “What about the boy? I suppose we can leave him here for now. It’s safe enough, isn’t it?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ael shot back, with such vehemence that Arien flinched. “Safe? Not with that budding drama between him and the girl.”

  Outside, Lila stiffened, her wide eyes reflecting a mixture of alarm and mortification. Arien felt warmth flood his cheeks. He swallowed hard, his muscles tensing as though he’d been caught in some scandal. He desperately wished he could vanish into the shadows before hearing his aunt dissect their nonexistent ‘drama.’ But he forced himself to keep listening, cheeks burning in the night air.

  Kael’s tone turned dismissive, almost patronizing. “Oh, that? That’s nothing. They’re young. It’ll pass. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.”

  “This is backcountry Ardalis, Kael,” Ael reminded him sharply, emphasizing the region’s old traditions. “Farming communities marry young. Have you forgotten where you are?”

  A heavy silence followed, and Arien’s stomach sank further. He and Lila exchanged a fleeting glance, abruptly unable to look each other in the eye for more than a heartbeat. Did other people see something between them that they themselves hadn’t fully admitted yet? The entire conversation felt surreal, layering embarrassment atop the throbbing curiosity that had led them here.

  Inside, Ael continued, her tone laced with something that sounded almost like desperation. “Do you want all your work around the prophecy to go to waste? Imagine coming back to find him married, with children, rooted here.” Her voice dropped, thick with implication. “He’d have no reason to leave, no reason to fulfill any destiny you’ve been preparing him for.”

  Arien’s mind whirled. Prophecy? What prophecy? His heart thumped so hard that it seemed to echo in his ears. Every sense felt heightened; he could feel the rough grain of the wall beneath his palm, the crisp night air chilling the side of his neck not pressed against the wood. Next to him, Lila was still as a statue, except for the small, quick flutter of her breath.

  Kael sighed deeply, the sound carrying a bone-deep weariness that practically weighed down the night. “Of course not,” he conceded.

  “Then the boy is coming with me,” Ael declared, her voice brooking no argument. “It’s the only way I can ensure he’s protected on the road.”

  Arien went rigid, a hot wave of panic flooding his veins. Protected? On the road? Whatever was happening, it clearly went beyond a mere stolen trinket or passing trouble. Ael had mentioned him as a crucial piece in some prophecy. His pulse thrummed with confusion, fear, and—deep beneath all of that—a thrill of unwanted excitement. He risked a glance at Lila, whose anxious expression mirrored his own. The unspoken question was clear: What could this possibly mean?

  Before either of them could gather another stray snippet of the conversation, a sudden chill snaked through the alley. At first, Arien thought it might be a gust of wind, but it was heavier than that, like ice water trickling through his veins. He felt his skin prickle, the hairs on his arms rising. The darkness to the side of the shop seemed to deepen unnaturally, as though the shadows themselves had thickened into something alive.

  In the next instant, a shape emerged from the gloom: a shadow more fluid than solid, its edges undulating like trailing smoke. Yet there was an intelligence to it, a malice that pulsed from it like a sick heartbeat. Arien had felt something similar before in fleeting nightmares, but never so potent, so unabashedly real. His hand twitched reflexively toward the small utility knife at his belt—good for cutting rope or haggling open crates, but hardly a weapon against an entity of living darkness.

  Lila’s grip on his arm tightened, her nails biting into the fabric of his sleeve. “Arien,” she breathed, voice shaking. “What is that?”

  “I... I don’t know,” he admitted, forcing himself to swallow the knot of fear in his throat. The shadow figure made no discernible sound, yet the very air around them seemed to hum with dread, a hollow vibration that rattled Arien’s bones. He raised the short blade, its edge catching the faint luminescence from the apothecary’s window. The reflection looked pitifully small against the shapeless expanse of black.

  The figure seemed to watch them, though it possessed no eyes, only the vague outline of a vaguely humanoid upper body. Then, with an unnerving slowness, it drifted forward, its very movement exuding a predatory confidence. Arien’s heart slammed against his chest as he braced himself for what felt like an inevitable confrontation.

  “Stay behind me,” he managed through clenched teeth, though he had no idea how he’d protect Lila if the creature attacked in earnest.

  Even that small whisper of defiance seemed to amuse the dark apparition. Arien sensed a silent mockery rippling through its form, like laughter without sound. The cold in the alleyway intensified, sinking into his skin and numbing the tips of his fingers. It felt as though the creature’s mere presence was sapping the warmth from the world. His mind fogged, an intangible weight pressing down on his spirit. Every instinct told him to turn and run, but he couldn’t abandon Lila.

  He lunged forward with the knife in a broad slash, hoping at least to ward the creature off. The blade sliced through the air and met nothing. The shadow rippled like disturbed water, dispersing momentarily before coalescing again, completely unscathed. Arien’s stomach churned with the realization that it was toying with him, like a cat batting around a mouse.

  The oppressive cold grew worse, and a bitter, despairing sensation leaked into Arien’s thoughts, as though the creature emanated hopelessness in tangible waves. He staggered backward, teeth chattering, knife arm shaking. Lila let out a small gasp, whether from cold or fear he couldn’t tell.

  Then the creature moved again, black limbs forming into something akin to claws. They stretched toward Lila, who could only manage a strangled cry as terror froze her to the spot. Arien yelled her name, but no sound emerged from his throat—his shout stolen by the suffocating presence around them.

  A split second later, Lila found her voice and screamed, a sound so sharp and desperate that it seemed to part the darkness like a blade. That jarring scream cut through the haze, restoring some measure of Arien’s focus. He prepared to leap forward again, though he couldn’t imagine what good his tiny knife would do this time. But before he could act, the shop door burst open behind them.

  A thunderous crack splintered the silence, the wooden frame slamming against the wall. Light poured into the alley, a stark yellow glow cast by the apothecary’s rune-lamps—brighter and fiercer than any normal lantern. The shadowy figure recoiled, twisting as if blinded.

  Ael and Kael emerged like avenging storm gods, their combined presence crackling with an energy Arien had never witnessed before. Ael’s eyes blazed green, an emerald luminescence that seemed to flare even brighter against her hair. She raised her hand, rings glinting on her slender fingers, and arcs of faint energy danced along her knuckles. Kael followed, and though his hair was white with age, he walked with a surety that belied every one of his years. His staff, carved from some dark wood and inscribed with runes that swirled in patterns like swirling wave crests, glowed with an ethereal light.

  “Leave them!” Ael’s voice thundered, carrying a regal command that seemed to rip through the oppressive gloom. Her presence resonated with a power Arien could feel in the air, a primal force that bristled against every shadow in the alley.

  The darkness wavered for a moment, as though uncertain. Then Kael stepped forward and slammed the base of his staff onto the ground. The impact sent a shockwave of pale, rippling light surging through the alley. It crashed into the creature with a crackling sizzle, forcing it to recoil in a spasm of black shapes. Arien sensed the tension in the air heighten, a clash of two opposite forces: the creature’s suffocating darkness and the bristling energy radiating from Kael and Ael.

  The shadows wrapped themselves into a more solid shape, claws that dripped blackness like tar, each motion a silent snarl. The figure reared up, but it was clearly losing ground to the unearthly glow that Kael’s staff and Ael’s outstretched hand poured forth.

  Arien’s vision blurred momentarily as the darkness pressed back, thrashing with renewed intensity. A swirl of shapes manifested near the creature’s center, something akin to a mouth, but with curling edges made of swirling void rather than flesh. A wave of mental pressure hammered Arien’s mind, freezing his thoughts into a nightmarish static. He barely registered Lila’s trembling grip on his arm. The creature was trying to overwhelm them, to feed on their fear and break their wills.

  Then came Ael’s voice, laced with more power than Arien had ever heard from her. She shouted words in a language he didn’t recognize, each syllable crackling like sparks in the air. Energy surged around her hand, forming a searing orb of greenish-white light. The orb seemed to pulse in time with Ael’s heartbeat, an extension of her very essence. With a fluid motion, she cast the light forward, letting it break into swirling tendrils that carved through the darkness like knives. Each tendril hissed against the shadowy creature, severing limbs of congealed blackness and cutting off its retreat.

  Kael matched her assault with a surge of brilliance from his staff. The runes along its length brightened, forming a delicate lattice of runic script that flared with ancient authority. A high-pitched hum filled the alley, prickling Arien’s ears. He watched in awe as the staff’s carved serpent eyes glowed, as if awakened from a long slumber. Another shockwave erupted, pinning the creature and driving it against the far wall of the alley.

  The oppressive darkness lashed in fury, the intangible howl blasting into Arien’s mind. He grimaced, dropping to a knee, feeling as though a hot spike of fear had been driven through his skull. Lila let out a soft cry, collapsing beside him. Their vision swam, but the heroic figures of Kael and Ael stood tall, unwavering, as though shielding them from the brunt of the mental onslaught.

  Suddenly, with a hiss like steam escaping a shattered pipe, the creature’s shape tore apart. One final screech reverberated through the alley, a soundless wave of hatred and frustration. Then, a blistering flash of light turned night into day for an instant. Arien squeezed his eyes shut, spots dancing behind his lids. When he dared to open them again, the darkness was gone, as though it had never been there. Wisps of shadow drifted away, dissolving into the night air, leaving behind a suffocating stillness.

  Ael stood with her arm outstretched, thin streams of green light still trailing from her fingers. Her breathing was labored, yet her posture remained straight, proud. Kael stood beside her, staff lowered, the glow from the runes fading to a dim whisper of what it had been. They scanned the alley, both looking wary, like soldiers expecting a second wave of assault that never came.

  Arien and Lila slowly rose, shaken but grateful to be alive. Their ears rang with echoes of the conflict, and their legs felt unsteady, muscles still drained from the creature’s oppressive aura. An acrid smell of burnt something hung in the air—whether it was ozone from the magic or the remnants of the creature itself, Arien couldn’t say.

  Then, with a sudden pivot, Ael strode toward Arien, her boots grinding against the gravel beneath. Without a word, she seized his arm, her grip iron-hard. Kael reached for Lila, gently but firmly guiding her to her feet. Though the shock of the encounter still clung to them like icy sweat, neither Arien nor Lila resisted.

  “Inside,” Ael commanded, her voice crisp and unyielding. “Now.”

  Kael ushered Lila forward, and Arien stumbled along at Ael’s side. The warmth of the apothecary’s interior beckoned them, the sour-sweet smell of herbs and potions flooding their senses as soon as they crossed the threshold. Ael didn’t pause; she led Arien deeper into the shop, where shelves of labeled jars stood in neat rows, each holding carefully dried plants or powders that glinted in the rune-lamp’s soft glow. The wooden counters were lined with bottles whose contents ranged from pale blues to dark crimsons, each stoppered with wax or cork. Mortars and pestles lay scattered about, signs of Ael’s endless dabbling in concoctions both medicinal and, rumor claimed, occasionally arcane.

  Kael followed close behind, steering Lila by the shoulder. Beyond the glass-paned cabinet doors, one could see glimpses of intricate instruments: alembics, retorts, small braziers used for precise heating. All of it seemed so mundane compared to the power Kael and Ael had just unleashed. The door slammed shut with a jarring finality, locking out the starry sky and the quiet horror that had nearly consumed them.

  Inside, they could still hear the frantic pounding of their own hearts, and each breath tasted of lingering adrenaline. The flicker of the rune-lamps cast shifting patterns on the walls, as though ghosts of the recent battle still danced in the corners of the room.

  For a moment, the four of them just stood there, the air thick with the unspoken aftermath of what had transpired. Arien opened his mouth, trying to form a question: What was that thing? How had Ael and Kael fought it off? And what did it have to do with the stolen item—or the cryptic hints they’d exchanged about him and a prophecy? But the shock held his tongue, and he could do nothing but stare at Ael.