When Elden awoke, he was lying on a cot in a dimly lit room. The scent of herbs and the soft glow of candles filled the air, soothing and warm. A slender, young woman with long dark hair was beside him, her hands glowing with a soft, ethereal light as she worked her healing magic. He tried to move, but pain lanced through his arm, sharper than anything he had ever felt.

“Stay still,” the young woman commanded gently, not taking her eyes off the wound. “The magic in those blades is insidious. It’s fighting against my healing.”

Elden winced as another wave of pain washed over him. “Will… will I be alright?”

The woman’s brow furrowed in concentration, her hands moving with practiced precision. Her slim dark eyes focused on his wound, “The wound is deep and the infection is fierce. The shadow seekers’ blades are forged with dark magic, meant to do more than just physical harm.” She paused, her gaze flicking up to meet him. “But I’ve dealt with worse.”

“My name is Mara” She said as the magic grew over his arm. Her soul felt a lot older than her face, she had to be young, younger than him. Her knowledge of magic was beyond her years.

As she spoke, the glow from her hands intensified, and Elden felt a warmth spread from the wound, driving back the cold, creeping darkness that had taken hold. He could feel the infection receding, but the damage to his arm was severe. The muscles were torn, and the bone itself seemed to hum with the remnants of the shadow seekers’ vile enchantments.

“It’s going to take time,” Mara said softly, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. “The magic from their swords has left a mark on you. Your arm… it will never be the same.”

Elden closed his eyes, absorbing her words. He had known, deep down, that something had changed within him the moment the blade had cut through his flesh. But hearing it spoken aloud made it all the more real. He took a shuddering breath, pushing down the fear and uncertainty that threatened to rise.

“What do we do now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mara finished her work and sat back, her hands trembling slightly from the effort. “We adapt. We find new ways to fight. And we don’t let this defeat us.”

She smiled then, a small, reassuring curve of her lips that spoke of strength and resilience.

The shadow seekers had dealt him a grievous blow, but they had not broken him. With Mara’s help, he would heal. And when he did, he would be ready to face the darkness once more.

Elden took a deep breath. "I've figured out that the shadow seekers are after Aerin," he said, looking at each of them.

Talon nodded. "We know," he said quietly. "Mara discovered their plan days ago."

Elden felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "What do we do now?" he asked.

Mara stood and began pacing the room. "The shadow seekers will not give up easily."

"We have a clue," Aerin said, showing an old parchment. "One of the Shadow Seekers dropped this right before we ran for our lives."

Talon looked at her with raised eyebrows, “You never said you had this?”

Aerin shook her head “I just found it again tucked in together with my sword, i thought i had lost it when we ran so fast”.

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Elden took the parchment and studied the mysterious symbols. "We need to decipher this," he said firmly.

Elden glanced at Aerin, seeing the fear and determination in her eyes. “Aerin’s magic,” he said softly. “Like Eleara said, It’s powerful, ancient. They sense it, and they want it.”

Mara’s face tightened, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. She resumed her work, her hands moving deftly as she cleaned and bandaged Elden’s wound. “This is troubling news,” she said finally. “We need to prepare.”

Mara finished tending to his wound and looked at him with a mix of concern and determination. “You’re safe here, for now. Rest, and then we’ll plan our next move.”

Elden nodded, feeling the exhaustion finally catching up with him. As he leaned back and closed his eyes, the memories of battles fought and lost, swirled in his mind.

In the quiet of Mara’s apartment, as the dawn light filtered through the windows, Elden allowed himself a moment of peace. Elden’s deep, quiet voice, usually so controlled, held a hint of urgency as he spoke. “We don’t have much time. The Shadow Seekers... they’re relentless. We need to be ready.”

Aerin looked at him, her eyes wide with concern, but there was also a flicker of something else—trust. She believed in him.

As Elden sat at Mara's round table, he couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity that surrounded Aerin. There was something hauntingly recognizable about her, as if they were bound by a thread of destiny woven in the past. Every glance exchanged between them seemed charged with unspoken recognition, a whisper of something they could not quite place. She moved with a grace, not of a low born person.

Elden leaned forward, his gaze intense and probing. “You seem to hold a great deal of mystery. What is your past, Aerin? Where do you come from?”

Aerin, too, felt the electric pull whenever Elden’s eyes met hers. The connection was palpable, a magnetic force that defied explanation. Despite her attempts to remain composed, she could feel a deep-seated feeling simmering beneath her surface. It was as though Elden had unlocked something within her, a yearning she hadn’t known existed until he arrived.

Her breath caught, a fleeting shadow crossing her face. “I… I prefer not to speak of it,” she replied, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of vulnerability.

Elden’s eyes softened, though his curiosity remained unrelenting. “You seem troubled by something. If there’s anything I can help with—”

Aerin shook her head, the movement almost imperceptible. “Some things are better left undisturbed,” she said, her tone firm but laced with an unspoken plea for understanding.

The air between them crackled with tension, an invisible storm brewing in the space where their eyes met. Elden could sense the layers of unspoken emotions, a complexity that drew him closer despite the barriers she put up. It was a storm contained, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to break free.

The warmth of the room contrasted with the storm brewing inside them both. Elden's heart raced as he tried to decipher the enigmatic woman before him, while Aerin's pulse quickened with a mix of anticipation and fear. The magnetic pull between them was undeniable, a powerful force that neither could ignore, though they both struggled to keep their true feelings at bay.

They still sat at Mara’s round table. Elden and Aerin stared at each other, not sure what to say. Mara and Talon fast asleep as the night soon became dawn.

Their eyes met across the dimly lit room, the air between them crackling with unspoken tension. Aerin could feel her heart racing, not from fear, but from something far more dangerous. Her pulse quickened as Elden moved closer, his presence a storm she couldn’t escape. His hand brushed against hers, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of electricity through her body. It was enough to make her gasp, enough to make her lean in without thinking.

“Elden…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she felt the heat of him so close, too close.

He didn’t answer with words, just a look—dark, intense, as though he was seeing through every barrier she had ever put up. And at that moment, she didn’t want to resist. She wanted to fall into the chaos that churned between them. He cupped her face, his rough thumb brushing over her cheek, his breath hot against her skin. There was no hesitation, no gentleness, just raw, unfiltered desire.

When his lips crashed against hers, it was like setting a match to dry kindling. The fire roared to life, and nothing else mattered. Not the mission, not the danger. Just the feel of him, solid and fierce, his hands pulling her closer as if he needed her touch as much as she craved his.

Elden cleared his throat but as he was about to speak Aerin took a breath

"You’re quite the shadow in the night, Elden. I didn't realize you had such... intriguing qualities.” She smirked at him intently.

"And you’re full of surprises yourself, Aerin. I’ve heard stories, but they don’t quite do you justice,” Elden felt surprised at her tone. She had felt so fragile these last couple of days, her injury up in Bramhall and after the ambush in the forest.

Aerin’s finger trailed across the wood on the table, "Stories can be deceiving. Better to judge for yourself, don’t you think?" Her eyes still locked with his.

Elden took a deep breath, "I might take you up on that. But be careful—my judgment might not be as lenient as you hope."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Aerin laughed, it hit Elden’s ears like music. Her laugh was light and sweet, her smile genuine. She was beautiful. He tried not to show his awe, he cleared his throat, "Depends on whether you can handle a little of both. How’s your tolerance for danger?"

Her smile faded, a memory flicked through her eyes as she broke their eye contact, "I’ve faced worse. And you?" She asked him more warily.

"I’m still standing, aren’t I? He answered, trying to lighten up her now faded smile, “But I have to admit, you make danger look rather... captivating."