The path leading away from Fort Warren lay cloaked in unsettling silence, lined with crooked trees whose twisted branches stretched out like skeletal fingers grasping at the dim, misty air. The pallid half-light of the Shadow Realm enveloped Asil and Abby, lingering around them like a ghostly shroud. Initially, neither spoke—not from unease, but sheer exhaustion. The dungeon had challenged more than their bodies; it had tested their resolve, their trust in one another, and even their grip on reality itself.

  “Feels... different now,” Abby finally murmured, breaking the silence. Her voice was quiet but carried clearly through the gloom. “Like something's shifted.”

  “It has,” Asil replied softly, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. “We have.”

  Gradually, the oppressive aura of the dungeon faded behind them, replaced by subtle changes in their surroundings—crumbling stones giving way to moss-covered earth, tangled roots sprawling across their path. Abby kept glancing back, watching Fort Warren’s dark silhouette shrink into the distance, its spires still piercing the veil of unnatural mist.

  They expected to find their companions—Frederick, Gideon, Eamon, or even the two recruits—waiting at the familiar waypoint where they'd camped just days before. But when they reached the clearing, only flattened grass, cold embers, and a solitary note pinned to a fallen log greeted them. A bone-handled knife anchored the message firmly in place.

  Abby carefully retrieved the note and passed it to Asil, who unfolded it.

  Lucia showed us the root—you succeeded. We're headed back to Hajill. Stay safe. I hope to see you both soon. — Gideon

  Abby let out a tired chuckle. “So Lucia’s a messenger now. Didn’t expect that.”

  Asil smiled faintly, the tension easing just slightly. “More likely, she waited until we’d finished the hard part before checking in. Smart wolf.”

  The return journey toward Hajill proved harsher than either had anticipated. The once-familiar forest path now lay shrouded in deeper shadows, suggesting something sinister had awakened in their absence. Encounters with demons soon became frequent—sleeker, more formidable beings with charcoal-gray flesh and eyes glowed fiercely like molten metal. These were no mere beasts; they attacked with calculated precision, moving in coordinated formations meant to trap and overwhelm.

  Yet Asil met each attack with newfound mastery. Her blades danced fluidly, flashing like silver lightning in the dimness, each movement a deadly blend of grace and precision. Abby, too, had evolved; slipping silently through the undergrowth, her daggers precise and lethal, dispatching foes swiftly. Her confidence as a rogue had blossomed into something formidable.

  But something else had changed.

  Pausing to catch her breath, Abby crouched beside a twisted tree root while Asil bandaged a shallow cut. A curious sensation tugged at Abby’s senses—a gentle whisper at the edge of perception. Her eyes narrowed as they locked onto a nearby vine, covered in thorny purple leaves. Reaching out cautiously, she plucked a leaf, rubbing it thoughtfully between her fingers.

  “Shadowcap,” she murmured, almost to herself.

  From behind the tree, Asil raised an eyebrow. “Are you just randomly naming plants now?”

  “No—I mean, yeah, I guess—but it's more than that,” Abby said, studying the plant with newfound fascination. “The name popped into my head the moment I touched it. I think...I can sense herbs now. Like, identify them instantly, even tell if they're toxic.”

  Asil stepped into view, intrigued. “That's new. Another skill from your rogue class?”

  “Must be the ‘Poison’ skill I unlocked earlier,” Abby mused, carefully gathering several more sprigs into her pouch. “It’s almost as if the forest is speaking to me.” She flashed Asil a playful smirk. “Not in a creepy way—yet.”

  From that point onward, they moved with greater caution. Battles grew fewer, and the forest gradually thinned, revealing glimpses of Hajill’s familiar banners fluttering above a distant rise.

  Just as relief began to seep into their tired limbs, a sleek black wolf burst forward from the shadows ahead. Immediately, the wolf pounced on Asil, showering her with enthusiastic licks as Abby stood aside, giggling. Amidst the playful chaos, the wolf smoothly shifted into her smaller Dachshund form, comfortably nestling into Asil’s arms.

  Together, the trio made their way back to the fort, their hearts growing anxious with every step at the thought of what awaited them—especially the uncertain news concerning Cressa.

  Geraldine met Asil and Abby at the gate, guiding them down the familiar, torch-lit corridors of Fort Hajill. Their boots echoed softly against the stone walls, each step heavy with memories and new burdens. Though they'd only been gone a week, it felt as if much more time had passed.

  “Your wolf made it back to the fort, a bit worse for wear,” Geraldine said warmly as they approached Cressa’s chamber. “I found the root securely tied to her paw. You did well.”

  They entered quietly, finding Cressa asleep. Eamon sat beside her, eyes red but dry, holding his sister's hand. She looked peaceful, the pallor of illness lessened significantly.

  “Cressa’s been in and out of consciousness,” Geraldine explained gently. “I was able to create and administer a counteragent using the root you provided. She’s still fighting the infection, but we believe the worst has passed. The rest is up to her now.”

  Eamon rose to greet Asil and Abby, placing a grateful hand on each of their shoulders. “I’m sorry we left you behind,” he apologized. “Lucia paused just long enough to show us what she carried before sprinting off toward Hajill. I had to follow immediately, though I couldn't keep pace.”

  “The others followed me back here shortly afterward,” Eamon continued. “Gideon mentioned leaving you a note.”

  Asil and Abby nodded, approaching Cressa’s bedside. It was evident she was on the mend, breathing deeply and evenly.

  “Come, lasses,” Geraldine said gently. “Loren and Bonvil await you in the war room. Let’s leave the girl to rest.”

  They quietly followed Geraldine out, leaving Eamon alone with his sister.

  As they walked, Abby turned to Geraldine, her curiosity piqued. “Later, could you show me how you prepared the counteragent? I’d like to learn if I'm going to start crafting my own poisons.”

  “Aye, lass,” Geraldine responded without missing a beat. “We used the last of the root, but I’ll gladly show you the steps.”

  They entered the war room, finding Loren intently studying a wide table etched with an updated regional map, notes, and markers scattered across its surface. Bonvil stood close by, his expression grave. Both men glanced up immediately as the women approached.

  “You’re both a sight for sore eyes,” Loren said warmly, relief evident in his voice.

  Bonvil nodded in agreement firmly. “When you didn't return with the others, we grew worried. But your team explained Lucia had been sent back with the root, and we figured there had to be a reason.”

  “We discovered signs of Jack deeper inside Fort Warren,” Asil explained carefully. “After securing the root from the courtyard, we sent Lucia ahead, hoping to catch up with Jack ourselves.”

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  Abby continued solemnly, “It turns out the Shadow Realm fully overtook Fort Warren. We had to navigate its dungeon.”

  Asil nodded gravely. “Jack was definitely there, but it looked like days or weeks had passed since he cleared the initial area.”

  Loren motioned for them to join him at the table, making space amidst scattered reports. “Tell us everything you saw in the dungeon.”

  Asil recounted their experiences—the burnt corpse of a Demogorgon, clear evidence of fierce battles, and rooms left in disarray. “Jack cleared it,” she explained. “Or at least, the first section.”

  Abby confirmed firmly, “There was a carving on the main door—JAQOVHARTS. It was definitely his handiwork.”

  “The dungeon was empty, doors wide open,” Asil continued. “Whatever Jack encountered, he overcame. In the end, there was a grand gate, radiating immense magical pressure, stronger than anything we’ve felt so far.”

  Loren exchanged a tense glance with Bonvil. “That aligns with troubling reports from the north. Demon numbers are rising, becoming more organized and aggressive. Even goblins are growing bolder.”

  “Jack might be after the same threat,” Asil proposed. “But we can't be certain yet.”

  Bonvil stepped forward solemnly. “We recently confirmed something deeply troubling—a powerful, dark wizard has begun operating in the region. Scouts suggest he’s connected to something ancient, something linked to the Demon God.”

  Abby stiffened visibly. “Connected how?”

  Bonvil’s gaze met hers steadily. “We believe he aims to free the Demon God.”

  The room fell silent with dread.

  “He’s already secured two potent artifacts from the Shadow Realm,” Bonvil elaborated. “They’re weakening the barrier between realms significantly. Our texts hint there was a third, meant as anchors to keep Aerothane separated from the Shadow Realm.”

  “Are these artifacts keys?” Abby asked quickly.

  Bonvil shook his head slowly. “Not exactly keys. More like anchors or wards designed to hold the veil firmly in place. Removing them disrupts the balance.”

  “And the third artifact?” Asil pressed urgently.

  Bonvil nodded gravely. “The dark wizard seeks it, and every indication suggests it’s hidden deeper within that Shadow Realm dungeon—the one Jack passed through and you just left.”

  Asil clenched her jaw tightly. “We should have gone deeper.”

  “You weren’t ready,” Loren reassured firmly. “You saved Cressa—that mattered greatly. But now, we must return quickly before this wizard secures the last anchor.”

  “What happens if he succeeds first?” Abby asked softly.

  Bonvil’s voice turned grim. “If he acquires all three artifacts, he can release the Demon God fully.”

  “Then we return immediately,” Asil declared without hesitation.

  Abby echoed her resolve clearly, “Together.”

  “Jon and I will head out again,” Bonvil interjected decisively. “We'll search for Jack. We'll need him in this fight if he's truly as powerful as described.”

  Asil nodded quietly, her voice momentarily lost. Help was welcome, of course—but more than anything, she simply wanted her husband safely by her side once more.

  Although eager to head out immediately, both Asil and Abby knew they needed to be stronger. The week following their return was dedicated to grinding levels and strengthening their party.

  Asil resumed her role in training the recruits at Fort Hajill. The group had grown thanks to Bonvil bringing in fresh bodies from nearby settlements. With Loren still recovering from his leg wound—one that might never fully heal—Bonvil had stepped in to assist with instruction during Asil’s absence. Despite his gruffness, the men respected him, and under his guidance, they quickly picked up advanced tactics and formation work.

  Abby, meanwhile, took a quieter path. She assisted Geraldine with daily chores and tutoring the fort’s orphans—Tobin and Serena. She spent hours guiding Serena through basic magical control, though the child’s strange connection to the Source remained a mystery.

  In the afternoons, Abby wandered the forests with Geraldine to gather herbs. These excursions led to long hours at the alchemy table, where Geraldine shared what she knew of basic alchemy. Despite her humble expertise, Abby proved to be a natural. With help from Eamon’s advanced books and her own skill-based intuition, she rapidly surpassed Geraldine.

  Soon, she was concocting potent poisons, minor healing salves, and rudimentary stamina restoratives. Her proficiency grew quickly, and by week’s end, she had jumped three levels, now sitting confidently at level 17.

  Asil continued pushing herself. Between training drills, she led expeditions with her core group—Lucia, Frederick, and Gideon. Frederick’s crush remained obvious, even though Asil made her feelings for Jack abundantly clear. Nevertheless, the young man fought hard and showed promise.

  Together or alone, Asil hunted goblins near the fort and pushed back demons along the southern edge of the Dark Woods. Her aggressive approach paid off. She reached level 21 and watched as her weapons, armor, and skills leveled alongside her.

  On the sixth night, Asil and Abby finally found themselves in their quarters at the same time. It was the first chance they’d had in days to simply sit and talk. For weeks, they had been passing like ships in the night—taking different watches, tending to separate tasks.

  “I'm level—”

  “Out there I—”

  They both started speaking at the same time and stopped, then burst into laughter. Despite the looming threat of the Dark Wizard and the urgency of their mission, for a moment they were just two friends.

  They collapsed onto Abby’s bed, laughing uncontrollably.

  Asil reached over and took Abby’s hand, pressing it to her chest. “You first,” she said with a warm smile.

  “I hit level 20,” Abby beamed.

  “Level 22,” Asil replied with a smirk.

  “So… we’re ready then?” Abby asked, her tone turning serious.

  “Level-wise, sure,” Asil said. “But emotionally? I’m not ready to walk you into a death trap.”

  Abby rolled to her side, still holding her hand. “I know that won’t comfort you, but I can hold my own.”

  “Oh, I know,” Asil said, matching her movement and meeting Abby’s gaze. “Don’t mistake my reluctance for doubt. You’ve grown. More than I ever expected. Honestly… it’s surprising.”

  “I missed that bratty version of me too,” Abby said with a grin.

  Both of them burst into laughter again. For the first time in what felt like forever, it felt good—normal.

  The next day, they met with Loren. Bonvil had still not returned, and there was no word of Jack’s whereabouts.

  “We can’t wait any longer,” Asil told the older man, voice resolute. “We need to enter the second level.”

  Loren looked like he wanted to argue. But he stopped himself. These women weren’t just soldiers anymore—they were leaders. Champions. And possibly Aerothane’s best hope.

  “Then may fortune favor you,” he said. “At least let the team escort you to Warren.”

  They agreed, and at dawn the following day, they set out.

  The road to Fort Warren was surprisingly quiet. The occasional goblin or demon met their path, but between the patrols and Asil’s aggressive clearing, the region was far more secure. Still, both women knew it was a temporary reprieve. Without action, the darkness would rise again—and this time, it would swallow everything.

  They said their farewells at the outskirts of Fort Warren. Only Lucia accompanied them past the gates. The wolf, now a formidable level 17, moved with grace and intelligence, her eyes glowing faintly with magical awareness.

  The trio passed through the outer gates, the courtyard eerily still. They crossed the open space and entered through the wooden door marking the first level of the dungeon.

  Asil paused at the threshold.

  Jack’s gamer tag still marred the wooden surface, carved defiantly into the frame.

  JAQOVHARTS

  “Jack of Harts,” she whispered. “He was here.”

  They entered the familiar gauntlet, now silent. Doors that once held danger now hung open and empty. They moved swiftly through the corridors and stepped through the final portal.

  The chamber beyond had changed.

  The small exit door from before was gone. Only one thing remained: the massive gate.

  The gate.

  Abby’s breath caught in her throat. Asil’s hand tightened around her sword. Lucia let out a low growl.

  The iron bars shimmered faintly, radiating the same oppressive energy they remembered. But stronger now. Deeper. Hungrier.

  “This is it,” Asil said softly.

  “The gateway to the second level,” Abby replied, eyes wide.

  Lucia stepped forward, her ears twitching.

  “This isn’t just a new floor,” Asil said, her voice steady but low. “This is a descent into something darker.”

  They each reached out, clasping hands.

  Together, they stepped toward the gate.

  A pulse of energy rippled across the stone floor. The iron bars groaned, shifting slightly in their sockets. Magic gathered in the air, thick as fog.

  The Shadow Realm was waiting.

  And it had just opened its door.