The trio moved cautiously through the ruins, their breaths clouding in the unnaturally cold air. Every broken beam and crumbled wall seemed to hold a sinister secret, as if the village itself were watching them.

Kaelen walked slightly ahead, his sword drawn and ready. The faint glow that had lit his eyes during the fight was gone, but Sigrid had noticed it. She hadn’t said anything yet, but her curiosity simmered beneath her composed exterior.

Nessa, meanwhile, was visibly unsettled, her eyes darting to every shadow. “So, testing us, huh? Who exactly would be bored enough to sic a cursed wolf on strangers?”

“Someone powerful,” Kaelen replied, his voice low. “And careful.”

“Careful?” Nessa raised a brow. “That thing wasn’t careful. It was slobbering rage on four legs.”

“They didn’t mean the beast,” Sigrid interjected, her tone thoughtful. “They meant the placement of the wards, the choice of location. Whoever did this wanted to lure us here specifically.”

Kaelen nodded. “Exactly. The question is—why?”

They reached what appeared to be the remnants of a chapel. The stone structure had partially collapsed, but the heavy wooden doors remained intact, hanging ajar on rusted hinges. Symbols similar to the one on the tree were carved into the doorway, though these were faint and incomplete.

“This feels like a bad idea,” Nessa muttered, peering at the door.

“Most of the good ones do,” Kaelen said with a wry smile, pushing the door open.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of soot and decay. Shafts of light pierced through the broken ceiling, illuminating a floor covered in ash and debris. At the center of the room stood an altar, its surface scorched and cracked.

Sigrid stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied the altar. “This was used for a ritual.”

Kaelen approached, his boots crunching against the ash. “Any idea what kind?”

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“Not yet,” Sigrid replied, running her fingers over the surface. “But it wasn’t done recently. This place has been abandoned for years.”

Kaelen’s gaze shifted to the walls, where faint etchings were visible beneath the grime. He reached out, brushing the soot away to reveal a series of carvings—figures locked in battle with shadowy creatures.

“It’s a story,” he murmured, tracing the lines. “The villagers fought against something. A darkness they couldn’t contain.”

Nessa’s voice was uneasy. “Looks like they lost.”

Sigrid’s hand froze on the altar, her magic flaring briefly. “Kaelen.”

He turned, his expression sharpening at her tone. “What is it?”

She pointed to a small, circular indentation in the center of the altar. It was faint, but it pulsed faintly with an otherworldly energy.

“This isn’t just a story,” she said. “It’s a warning.”

Before they could react further, the temperature in the room plummeted. Frost began to creep across the walls, and the faint sound of whispers filled the air.

Nessa’s bow was in her hands instantly. “Please tell me that’s just the wind.”

“It’s not,” Kaelen said, his grip tightening on his sword.

The whispers grew louder, more distinct, though the language was one none of them recognized. From the shadows, faint figures began to materialize—spectral forms with hollow eyes and clawed hands.

“Ghosts,” Sigrid said, her voice steady but tense.

Kaelen’s blade gleamed as he stepped forward. “Let’s send them back where they came from.”

The first spirit lunged at him, its claws swiping through the air. Kaelen sidestepped, his sword slicing through the ethereal form. It let out a wail and dissolved into mist.

Sigrid’s magic flared, a shield of light forming around her. She hurled a bolt of energy at another spirit, the force dispersing it instantly.

Nessa fired an arrow, but it passed harmlessly through one of the ghosts. “Oh, come on! Why do I always get the useless attacks?”

“Use the altar!” Sigrid shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Kaelen moved toward it, fending off the spirits with swift, calculated strikes. Reaching the altar, he pressed his hand against the circular indentation. A shock of energy surged through him, and for a moment, the whispers became deafening.

But then the air stilled. The spirits froze, their hollow eyes turning toward him.

“What’s happening?” Nessa asked, her voice a mixture of awe and fear.

Kaelen’s eyes glowed faintly again, the light pulsing in rhythm with the energy from the altar. “They’re bound to this place,” he said, his voice distant. “And to me now.”

The spirits bowed their heads, their forms flickering before disappearing entirely.

Sigrid approached cautiously, her magic still at the ready. “What did you do?”

Kaelen stepped back from the altar, his expression unreadable. “I ended their torment. For now.”

Nessa lowered her bow, her brow furrowed. “For now? That’s not ominous at all.”

Kaelen didn’t reply, his gaze lingering on the altar.

As they exited the chapel, the forest seemed lighter, less oppressive. But the weight of what they’d discovered hung heavily over them.

Sigrid walked beside Kaelen, her voice low. “That glow in your eyes—what is it?”

He hesitated before answering. “A legacy of my training. It’s... complicated.”

“Complicated,” she repeated, her tone skeptical.

He smirked faintly. “What isn’t?”

Nessa joined them, her arms crossed. “So, what’s next? Another cursed village? Maybe a haunted castle?”

Kaelen’s grin returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’d settle for a good meal and a warm bed.”

Sigrid allowed herself a small smile. “Don’t get too comfortable. Whatever’s testi

ng us isn’t done yet.”

Kaelen nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Let them try. We’ll be ready.”