The Raven School had fallen eerily quiet since Kaelen and Sigrid’s return from the archives. The weight of their discoveries was still fresh, and the Master’s ominous words lingered in the air, like the chill that had settled within the stone walls.

Kaelen’s boots echoed through the dim corridors as he walked beside Sigrid, her silver eyes scanning the shadows, ever vigilant. She had tucked the scroll securely in her belt, but the knowledge it contained had made her uneasy. The task ahead was no longer a simple hunt—it was a descent into something ancient, something lost.

Kaelen couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being drawn into a trap. “Avaras,” he muttered under his breath, the name of the place the Master had spoken of echoing in his mind. “A place lost to time… corrupted. And now it’s our problem.”

Sigrid didn’t respond at first, her gaze ahead. The silence between them felt heavier than before, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She knew what Kaelen was thinking, knew the weight that had settled on both of them. This journey would be different, and they weren’t prepared for what lay ahead.

“Do you believe him?” Kaelen asked, breaking the silence.

Sigrid glanced sideways at him. “About the corruption? Yeah. The Master knows more than he lets on. He’s been hunting for a long time. Too long.” Her voice had a cold edge to it, as if she was already preparing herself for whatever darkness they’d face in Avaras.

Kaelen gave her a side glance, sensing the shift in her mood. He couldn’t blame her. Whatever Avaras was, it wasn’t something they could just march into like another hunt. The Master had made that clear.

“We’ll need to gather everything,” Kaelen said, stopping at the entrance to the armory. “Weapons, potions, anything we can use. The deeper we go, the more dangerous it’ll get.”

Sigrid nodded, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the weapons before them. She wasn’t interested in swords or shields—her daggers were enough for her. What she needed now were things that would help her control the magic she wielded. Her gaze flicked to the shelves, scanning for vials, enchanted runes, anything that would give her the upper hand in a place like Avaras.

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Kaelen reached for a longbow, his fingers grazing the smooth wood before setting it aside. “Don’t need that.” He could almost hear Sigrid’s voice in his head telling him that he didn’t need the bow. His sword would do.

“Magic might be more useful,” Sigrid remarked, her attention now focused on a table filled with talismans and enchanted trinkets. She picked up a small, jagged stone, its surface glowing faintly.

Kaelen raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s that supposed to do?”

“It’s a focus stone,” she replied, turning the stone over in her hand. “Helps amplify magic. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“You’ve got a point there,” Kaelen muttered, stepping toward the back of the armory, where a collection of healing potions and salves sat. He grabbed a handful, carefully tucking them into his pack. “Let’s hope it doesn’t get too out of hand.”

Sigrid fastened the stone to a strap on her belt, securing it next to her daggers. She didn’t respond immediately, but the tension in the air between them was thickening, not with animosity, but something else—something unsaid. She didn’t need to voice her thoughts; they had both felt the shift. This journey wasn’t just about surviving—it was about understanding the things they’d been forced to fight for so long.

The Master’s voice suddenly cut through the quiet of the armory, startling them both.

“You’ll need more than just weapons,” he said, his tone firm as he appeared at the doorway. He didn’t seem to care about the preparations—they were of little importance compared to the task at hand. “You’ll need to understand what you’re walking into.”

Kaelen turned to face him. “We know what we’re dealing with. You’ve already told us.”

The Master’s eyes glinted darkly, his voice growing more intense. “No. You don’t. And that’s why you’re not ready.”

Sigrid’s hand rested on her dagger hilt, her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

The Master met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “The darkness in Avaras is not something that can be hunted. It’s something that hunts back. The Veil of Avaras isn’t just a ruin—it’s alive. And it will make you wish you were never born.”

The Master’s gaze flickered for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of something—perhaps regret, perhaps understanding. “I’m not sending you alone.”

Kaelen and Sigrid exchanged a surprised glance.

“What do you mean?” Kaelen asked, his voice skeptical.

The Master’s eyes darkened. “I’ve seen the corruption of Avaras firsthand. I’ve heard the whispers. I know what it can do. You’ll need someone who knows how to navigate its dark history, someone who understands the dangers.”

Sigrid's expression softened. “You’re coming with us.”

The Master nodded once, a grim resolve in his gaze. “You can’t do this alone. Not this time.”

Kaelen couldn’t argue with that. There was no denying the gravity of what lay ahead. “Then let's make sure we're prepared. We'll leave at dawn.”

The Master’s eyes gleamed with something darker—something far older than Kaelen had anticipated. “Dawn may be too late.”

Sigrid rested a hand on her dagger hilt,

her resolve hardening. "Then let's go before it’s too late."