The sun dipped low on the horizon as Silas, Rowan, and Layla packed their gear onto the back of a rented steed. The fading light cast Amberheart in a warm, golden hue, its cobbled streets and bustling markets now left behind them. Silas adjusted the strap of his travel pack, the weight of the old book he’d picked up in Temptshire rested against his side in a separate strap for books.
His fingers briefly brushed its worn cover. He’d read through it twice, yet, the strange runes and cryptic messages echoed persistently in his mind. Selling it crossed his thoughts as they prepared for Ironvale’s trial. It’d fetch a decent price at one of the markets, perhaps when the urgency of their task lightened. But now, there was no time for distractions.
“Everything set?” Rowan asked, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders.
“Yeah,” Silas nodded, glancing again at the city gates behind them before swinging himself onto his horse. “Let’s get moving.”
Layla adjusted her Morningstar, the faint black sheen of her weapon catching the last light of day. “Ironvale isn’t far, but with these disappearances... Let’s see what’s waiting for us...”
The Trial of the Vanished weighed heavily on all of them. Nearly thirty people had disappeared from Ironvale, leaving no trace; the number might have increased by now. The city was likely in chaos, and panic must have settled like a dark cloud. Silas felt a tinge of unease creep into his chest, but he pushed it down.
As they rode out of Amberheart, Silas couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. The forest around them seemed unnaturally still, and every rustle of leaves made Silas's instincts flare. His eyes scanned the road ahead, noting how quickly the dense woods of Amberwood Grove seemed to close in around them. The quiet rustling of leaves above and the occasional distant caw of a crow punctuated their journey into the twilight.
Elsewhere, concealed within the shadows of the same forest, Lian Chen stood with his communication stone glowing faintly in his hand. His voice was low and steady as he relayed instructions through the magical link.
“They’ve left Amberheart. They’ll reach the centre of Amberwood Grove before nightfall. Make your move then. Target them near the clearing… and be sure not to mess this up. I’ll be tailing them just in case.”
The voice on the other end grunted in acknowledgement before the connection faded, leaving Lian Chen alone with a sharp glint in his eyes. He turned, slipping into the underbrush, his steps noiseless as he moved to follow the group from a distance.
The sky had darkened by the time Silas’s group reached Amberwood Grove. The dense canopy above obscured the last traces of daylight, and a chill began to settle into the air. Rowan, riding beside Silas, glanced around nervously.
“This place gives me the creeps, no matter how many times I come here,” he muttered.
Layla smirked. “What are you, a kid? Relax, we’ll be fine.”
Unbeknownst to them, on a ridge high above, three figures observed their every move. Indral, the one with light brown hair and eyes, stared down at the other two. His expression was unreadable as he glanced to his right, where Inka, the massive man with black hair and a sickle-shaped tattoo under his eye, was fidgeting with anticipation.
“I swear, Inka,” Indral said, his voice a low growl. “If you cause more trouble than necessary, I’ll rip your head off myself.”
Inka sneered, his muscles tensing beneath his worn leather armour. “You could try,” he replied, dripping with menace, “but you’d be torn apart by my bare hands long before you got the chance.”
Nashia, the third of their group, rolled her eyes at the bickering. Her blonde hair gleamed in the faint moonlight, and her sharp, almost predatory grin flashed as she turned her attention toward the path below. “Both of you, shut up,” she snapped, her green eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ll take care of the pretty girl. You two deal with the other two.”
She didn’t wait for a response as she began descending toward the group, her movements fluid.
Inka shot a glance at Indral. “You take the other boy. Silas is mine.” His eyes darkened with a twisted sense of anticipation.
Indral nodded, though his gaze lingered a moment longer on the path below.
As Nashia approached, hidden within the shadows of the trees, Silas suddenly halted his horse, his instincts flaring. “Did you hear that?” he asked, his hand gripped the hilt of his blade.
Layla frowned, scanning the darkened woods. “Who’s there?”
Without warning, a powerful blast echoed through the woods, tearing apart the stillness. Silas and the others barely had time to react before shadowy figures erupted from the treeline, flickering in and out of sight. They moved with impossible speed, surrounding the group in an instant.
Inka grinned in satisfaction from his hidden position as his special explosive worked, casting illusions of attackers all around them. The shadows lashed at the group from multiple angles, each appearing more accurate than the last.
Goldie let out a deep growl and charged at one of the figures, only to pass harmlessly through it. Confusion flashed in his eyes, but he quickly scampered back to Rowan, standing protectively at his side.
“Minor Illusions! There’s a Soulweaver nearby!!” Silas shouted, drawing Ebonheart. He glanced at Layla and Rowan, who were already in defensive stances, trying to track the shadowy attackers. “Stay focused—”
Before he could finish, a sharp, invisible force pierced Rowan’s mind. Indral, watching from above, smiled as he directed his Empathic Manipulation technique straight at him, flooding his heart with an overwhelming sense of dread and anxiety.
Rowan’s heart raced wildly and his vision blurred and instantly all his others senses distorted.
Suddenly, his focus shifted entirely to Layla. Fear surged through him, irrational and overpowering. Every flicker of movement around them felt like a threat aimed at her.
“Layla, we’re surrounded!” Rowan shouted, his voice frantic. He gripped his sword tighter, panic setting in as he placed himself between her and the imagined dangers.
Goldie, sensitive to Rowan’s emotions, paced nervously, growling low. The bear’s agitation mirrored Rowan’s rising fear, only adding to the chaos. Sensing the shift, Trickster coiled tighter around Rowan’s wrist in his serpent form, attempting to draw his attention back to reality, but Nashia’s manipulation was strong. Rowan could barely think straight, let alone sense the real threat.
From her vantage point, hidden within the cluster of trees, Nashia’s sharp green eyes locked onto Layla. She crouched low, her form blending with the shadows as her fingers traced the curve of her twin scythes. Her breath was steady, her heart calm—she had been waiting for this moment.
With precision, she unleashed her Soul Shackles, the ethereal chains latching onto Layla’s spirit. She gasped as she felt an invisible force pulling her away, dragging her toward the forest’s edge. Her feet skidded across the dirt, her attempts to resist futile as the Soul Shackles tightened.
“Rowan!” she called out, trying to steady herself. Sensing the danger, Trickster transformed into its Cloudform Serpent form, its long, violet-black body whipping through the air. Its venomous clouds lashed out at the shackles, weakening them slightly but not enough to fully break their hold. It then tried to bite them, but that only hurt its fangs, with just some small cracks on the shackles.
Goldie roared suddenly, a deep, primal sound that cut through the haze clouding Rowan’s mind. The roar reverberated through him, shaking loose the chains of fear. He blinked, his vision clearing.
‘What am I doing?’ he thought, finally breaking free from the illusion’s grip. His heart still pounded, but the irrational terror subsided. He locked eyes with Layla, struggling against the shackles, and without hesitation, he sprinted toward her, calling for Goldie to follow.
Layla gritted her teeth, her hands gripping the black-chained Morningstar at her side. With a growl of frustration, she swung it hard, sending the spiked ball hurtling toward the chains holding her. The weapon struck the ground with a thunderous crack, breaking some of the shackles. But more kept reforming, pulling her farther away from the group.
At this time, Nashia finally showed herself, cackling maniacally and yelling, “Forget about the boy, little girl. Why don't you and I have some fun tonight? I’ll let your body experience pleasures that its never felt before.”
Silas noticed the widening gap between them and cursed under his breath. “Stay together!” he shouted, but the encroaching darkness swallowed his voice.
Silas’s frustration mounted as his companions were pulled apart. “Dust, now!" he shouted, his instincts taking over as the ground erupted between Rowan and the encroaching enemies.
“You’re not getting through that easily,” Silas growled, buying Rowan some time... But it was futile, as Indral, who used Spirit Infusion on himself, jumped over the wall.
As Rowan reached Layla, Indral moved in closer, his eyes gleaming. With terrifying speed, he intercepted Rowan, cutting off his path to Layla. He extended his hand, using Memory Extraction to dig deep into Rowan’s soul. Memories of past battles came flooding back. Rowan staggered as visions of the noble children and the reanimated corpse flashed before his eyes—phantoms of the past merging with the present.
“Enough!” Silas shouted, drawing an arrow from his quiver and quickening it with Breeze’s help. He fired toward Indral, the arrow aimed to disrupt his focus and release his grip on Rowan’s head.
It flew straight and true, cutting through the smoke... but Nashia’s twin scythes blurred into view.
“Not that easy,” she hissed, swinging her scythes to stop the arrow from reaching its target.
“Layla, we have to retreat!” Rowan shouted, his voice thick with confusion. In his mind, they were once again encountering that reanimated corpse at Darkwood Hollow, their past trial replaying in twisted, disorienting ways. He thought he pulled at Layla’s arm, urging her to run deeper into the woods, away from the threat and toward Silas. Soon he fell on the ground unconscious.
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Goldie roared in alarm, tugging at Rowan’s cloak to wake him up. But the manipulation was too strong, and Rowan’s body and mind had been completely exhausted. Caught off guard, Goldie was kicked to a tree by Indral; he gave a low growl and fell to the ground, fainting.
Seeing that the arrow didn’t meet it’s mark, Silas charged in with Ebonheart. He was intercepted by Indral. Indral, with his glaive in hand, blocked any attempts from Silas to close the gap. He spun his weapon with deadly precision, each strike aimed to keep Silas on the defensive.
Seeing that Rowan and Layla were effectively separated from Silas, Inka escalated the chaos. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a fiery torch toward the clearing. The flames roared to life, spreading rapidly around the group, forcing Rowan and Layla further away. Smoke billowed up, and the heat pressed in on them from all sides.
“Rowan, get up!” Layla shouted, trying to fight off the weight of Nashia’s shackles as the fire closed in. But even her words were drowned out by the smoke and chaos around them.
Trickster, in his Icefield Serpent form, attempted to extinguish the fire with its icy blasts, but it raged on, a relentless force. As it was struggling with the fire, Nashia appeared behind it. She then bound Trickster, using another Soul Shackles technique. Trickster tried to bite her but she parried the attack with her sickles. She then tossed the bound Trickster far away with some effort.
Silas wasn’t going to let the fire consume them. “Breeze, extinguish it!” Silas commanded. Breeze gathered her strength, forming a powerful whirlwind that whipped through the area, pulling the fire into a vortex and snuffing it out. Silas watched as the flames died down, sweat beading on his forehead.
Dust formed a protective shield around Silas as he moved to regroup with Rowan and Layla.
But with Rowan, Layla, and their companions separated, Inka moved in on Silas. His steps were silent, his presence masked by the chaos as he approached. Before Silas could react, Inka unleashed his Soul Drain. The insidious technique latched onto Silas’s very essence, syphoning his strength, his limbs growing heavy as Inka’s power intensified. Despite his weakening body, Silas didn’t falter.
As Silas was reeling, his vision blurry, he caught a glimpse of the man towering over him—the same figure with the sickle-shaped tattoo beneath his eye. Recognition hit him like a jolt of lightning.
“You…” Silas spat, struggling against the dizziness. “You’re the one who attacked me in Temptshire.”
Inka glanced at Silas, smirking as he twirled one of his sickles in his hand. “Oh, the kid remembers. How cute.”
Silas’s eyes burned with fury. “I’ll kill you.”
Inka chuckled darkly, leaning closer. “You can try, boy. But you’ll end up just like you did last time—with a hole in your neck.”
“You think this is enough to stop me?” Silas gritted his teeth, drawing upon Breeze, Spark and Dust for support. The wind, fire and earth spirits swirled around him, reinforcing his resolve. With a flick of his wrist, Silas sent a blast of wind at Inka, but he dodged with a grin.
Silas summoned another burst of wind, knocking the approaching Indral off balance. “Get… away... from… me!” He roared, but just as he prepared to counterattack, Inka appeared from behind, moving with terrifying speed.
With a single brutal strike, Inka landed a blow to Silas’s side with his sickles, knocking him to the ground. The world spun as Silas’s vision darkened. He tried to stand, but his body refused to cooperate.
As Silas’s vision faded, he caught a glimpse of Rowan, unconscious on the ground. His eyes desperately searched for Layla, but she wasn’t there in his field of vision. With that, he lost consciousness. Breeze, Dust and Spark vanished with unresigned cries as soon as Silas fainted.
“Time to end this,” Inka growled, binding Silas with chains in a strange, glowing binding circle etched into the ground. The attackers’ goal now clear, Inka reached into Silas’s chest, his hand sinking into the flesh as though it were mere mist. Strangely, Silas’s body didn't feel any discomfort from his actions. When he withdrew his hand, a black seal, pulsing with eerie light, emerged from Silas’s body. The seal bore intricate designs, and Inka’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
“We’ve got what we came for,” Inka growled, holding the seal. “The Nexus Ambrosia in his veins has reinvigorated it. His bloodline will flow unhindered now.”
Nashia, who had been groping every inch of Layla’s body as she held her in place, was called away by Indral and Inka. Reluctantly, she released her hold on Layla, her fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. She laughed as she tied Layla to a tree with a chain and squeezed her buttocks one last time. “Until next time little girl. Don’t miss my touch too much.”
“You fucking bitch!!” Layla barked back as she spat a mouthful of blood on the ground.
Nashia chuckled, and twirling her scythes made her way back to Indral and Inka.
Indral glanced at the unconscious Silas, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his face, but he said nothing. The deed was done, and soon enough, the group of three disappeared into the night, leaving the unconscious Silas and Rowan and the tied Layla behind.
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Rowan’s eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on him. His vision was blurry, his limbs felt heavy, and his head pounded with a dull ache. He groaned as he pushed himself up from the cold ground, trying to make sense of the darkness around him.
The air was unnaturally still, and a faint rustling sound was nearby—soft, hoarse.
“Help... Rowan... please...”
Layla’s voice was strained and barely audible but unmistakably hers. He snapped to attention, his heart quickening. He blinked rapidly, forcing his eyes to adjust to the dim light filtering through the trees. As his vision cleared, he spotted her—a dark figure slumped against a tree trunk bound in heavy chains, Trickster coiled tightly around her ankles, its tail twitching helplessly as it attempted to loosen the chains. It had been there for what seemed like hours, protecting Layla as best as it could but unable to do much against the solid iron binding her.
“Layla!” he rasped, forcing himself to his feet despite the dizziness threatening to pull him back down. He stumbled over to her, falling to his knees in front of her, his hands immediately working to untangle the chains that bound her wrists and ankles.
Layla’s head lolled to the side, her breath shaky. Her usually bright eyes were glassy with exhaustion, her voice nearly broken from calling for help. “Rowan…” she whispered, her lips cracking into a faint smile as he struggled to undo the knots holding the chains.
“I’m here… I’m here,” Rowan assured her, gritting his teeth as he pried the chains free. Trickster uncoiled slightly, nudging Rowan with his head as if encouraging him to work faster, though the spirit’s exhaustion was evident in his sluggish movements.
Layla slumped forward into his arms as he finally loosened the last chain, barely conscious. Rowan held her close, gently easing her down to the ground and checking her for any injuries.
“Are you alright? Did that bitch hurt you?” he asked, his voice tight with concern.
Layla shook her head weakly. “No… Just… just tired,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath. “She... didn’t do anything… but… she toyed with me…” Her voice trailed off, hoarse from the strain of yelling for help.
"She thought I was weak..." Her hands curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. Her voice wavered between exhaustion and fury. "I’ll show her... I’ll show them all..." She looked up, eyes glinting with defiance despite her trembling frame.
Rowan nodded and glanced over, spotting Goldie first, slumped next to a tree, his small body curled up as if shielding himself from the chaos. The bear cub looked exhausted, his golden fur ruffled and coated in dirt. Rowan hurried over, gently nudging him awake.
"Goldie," Rowan murmured softly, brushing a hand over the bear's head. Goldie stirred, his eyes blinking confusedly before letting out a soft, low purr.
Layla smiled weakly as she crouched beside them. "He's alright..." she whispered. Goldie nuzzled into Rowan's hand for a moment before lazily stretching out, his purring a quiet comfort amidst the tension. With Goldie awake, Rowan glanced over to look for Silas. They eventually found Silas, who was still lying unconscious quite far away.
A pang of guilt stabbed at him—he’d been useless in the fight, manipulated by that man’s soulweaving abilities and thrown off balance. But there was no time for regret. Silas needed to wake up—now.
“We need to get him up,” Rowan said, looking at Layla, who nodded weakly. He rose, making his way over to Silas and kneeling beside him. He shook his friend’s shoulder. “Silas! Come on, wake up.”
There was no response.
Rowan shook him harder, his urgency growing. “Silas, come on! We need you!”
Layla, leaning on the tree for support, struggled to her feet and made her way over, her legs trembling. She knelt beside Silas, placing a hand on his shoulder, her voice soft and pleading. “Silas… please…”
After a few more moments of silence, Silas stirred. Goldie moved closer to him, sniffing at Silas’s hand as he woke. Silas’s eyes flickered open slowly, his face twisted in confusion and pain. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the haze from his mind. “Rowan? Layla?” he muttered dazedly.
Rowan let out a sigh of relief, “It’s good that you’re awake.”
Silas winced, sitting up slowly and rubbing his temples. “What… happened?”
Rowan glanced at Layla, and she nodded at him. “You’ve… got something on your forehead,” Rowan said, his tone filled with concern. “It’s… a mark.”
Silas’s hand flew to his forehead instinctively. “A mark?” He traced his fingers over his skin but felt nothing unusual. “What do you mean?”
Layla, still recovering her strength, managed to speak. “It’s like a… black crescent moon. Right in the centre. You didn’t have it before.”
Silas frowned, his mind still slow, and tried to process the new information. “A crescent moon?” His fingers probed his forehead again, but there was nothing—no raised skin, no scar. Just smooth, untouched flesh. “I don’t feel anything.”
Rowan’s expression tightened. “Well, it’s there. And whatever it is… it wasn’t there before those people attacked us.”
Silas felt a chill creep down his spine. He slowly lowered his hand, his eyes narrowing as memories of the fight came flooding back. “Those three,” he murmured, his voice sharpening. “They ambushed us… but why?”
Rowan shook his head. “I don’t know. I couldn’t keep track of what was happening. Everything was so chaotic. One minute we were together, and the next… Layla was pulled away. You and I both blacked out.”
Silas glanced at Layla, who nodded in agreement. “I was too far away,” she said, her voice hoarse from shouting. “They had me tied up… I couldn’t see what happened to either of you.”
Silas rubbed the back of his neck, trying to shake off the lingering dizziness. “I don’t understand it either. But they weren’t ordinary enemies. Those three… they were Soulweavers, Tier Three at the very least.”
Rowan clenched his jaw. “And strong ones at that. They knew how to mess with our heads, throw us off balance.”
Silas sighed, his hand still absently grazing his forehead where the crescent moon mark had been described. “Yeah… but I don’t feel… bad, though. Actually… I feel better. Stronger even.” He frowned, the words coming out of his mouth surprising even him.
Rowan and Layla shared a puzzled glance.
“Better?” Layla echoed. “You don’t find that… strange?”
Silas nodded slowly, his mind working to process the sensation. “It is weird. I don’t understand it either. But… something feels different. When I’m near you two… it’s like my blood is boiling. Not in a bad way, just… I can feel it… calling out.”
Rowan raised an eyebrow, his expression darkening. “Calling out? What do you mean?”
Silas’s eyes flickered, a faint memory of that time tugging at him. It was the same sensation, that strange pull he had felt when he held the book about the Elemental Bond ceremony in Temptshire.
“I don’t know yet,” Silas said carefully, his voice guarded. “But something’s changed.”
The three of them sat silently for a moment, the weight of their encounter pressing down on them. They had been attacked by enemies far more dangerous than they had expected, and they still didn’t know why.
Rowan glanced at the sky, now darkening as night fully set in. “We should move. We can’t stay here. Not after that.”
Silas nodded, but his thoughts remained heavy. That feeling in his blood—it wasn’t going away. And the crescent moon on his forehead… it was more than just a mark.
Something had shifted inside him, and whatever it was, it wouldn’t remain dormant for long.
As they gathered their belongings and prepared to leave the clearing, Silas couldn’t shake the foreboding in the air. There were more questions than answers, and the enemies they faced were more dangerous than they had realised.
But the most troubling of all was the mark.
And the feeling that whatever had been awakened inside him… was only just beginning to stir.