Sebas tightened the straps of his leather armor, its modest protection providing a semblance of security. The morning air was crisp as he stepped out of the inn, clutching the rolled-up parchment of his first quest. The Hemlock Farms lay on the outskirts of town, a quiet place with rolling fields and a reputation for peace. Yet something had disturbed that peace enough to summon the Adventurers’ Guild for aid.

He had no intention of returning without proving himself—not to the guild, not to Marek, and certainly not to the Dragon Queen whose power simmered within him.

The cobblestone streets hummed with activity as Sebas headed toward the town gates. Merchants shouted over one another, peddling wares. Farmers with carts of vegetables rumbled past. And, as always, the adventurers stood out. Their auras ranged from brash confidence to calm professionalism, their weapons and gear gleaming in the sunlight. Sebas felt their eyes on him as he passed, their gazes sizing him up and quickly dismissing him as another greenhorn. He clenched his fists. That would change soon enough.

---

The path to Hemlock Farms wound through a sparse forest, its trees swaying gently in the breeze. Sebas reviewed the quest details as he walked: **Livestock missing. No signs of predators. Possible magical interference. Investigate and resolve.**

Magical interference. The term sent a shiver down his spine. This wasn’t just an errand to chase away wolves or mend fences. There was a chance he’d face something unnatural, something his barely tested powers might struggle to overcome.

He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t notice the figure stepping out from the shade of the trees ahead.

“You look nervous, Sebas.”

Sebas stopped in his tracks, heart pounding. Marek stood in the middle of the path, his dark clothing blending with the forest’s shadows. The rogue’s posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, scanning Sebas like a predator evaluating prey.

“What are you doing here?” Sebas demanded, forcing his voice to steady.

Marek smirked. “Following you, obviously. Can’t have you dying on your first outing, can we?”

Sebas frowned. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“No,” Marek agreed, stepping closer. “But you do need guidance. Tiameth’s power might be burning inside you, but raw strength means nothing without control. So, consider me your guide. Or your shadow. Whichever you prefer.”

Sebas’s first instinct was to argue, to send Marek away. But a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him of how little he understood his own abilities. Swallowing his pride, he gave a reluctant nod.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Fine. Just don’t get in my way.”

Marek’s grin widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

---

They reached Hemlock Farms just before midday. The fields were eerily quiet, the usual sounds of clucking chickens and bleating goats conspicuously absent. A wiry farmer approached them, his face lined with worry.

“You the adventurers?” he asked, his voice rough.

Sebas stepped forward. “Yes. We’re here about the missing livestock.”

The farmer’s eyes flicked to Marek, then back to Sebas. He didn’t seem reassured. “It started three nights ago,” the man said. “First it was a few chickens, then two goats. Last night, my prize sow disappeared. No tracks, no blood. Just... gone.”

“Any strange noises?” Marek asked, his tone casual.

The farmer hesitated. “Now that you mention it... there was a sort of hum. Low, like a swarm of bees. Thought it was my ears playing tricks on me.”

Sebas exchanged a glance with Marek. Magical interference indeed.

“Show us where the animals were last seen,” Sebas said.

---

The farmer led them to a fenced pen at the edge of the property. The ground was churned up, but there were no tracks leading away from the pen. Marek crouched, brushing his fingers over the disturbed soil.

“No claw marks, no drag lines,” he murmured. “Whatever took the animals didn’t carry them off in the usual sense.”

Sebas’s gaze shifted to the sigil on his palm. The faint hum he’d felt earlier had grown stronger, as if the magic in the air resonated with his bond to Tiameth.

“I think...” Sebas hesitated, then knelt beside Marek. “I think whatever’s causing this is still nearby. There’s residual magic here.”

Marek raised an eyebrow. “You can sense it?”

Sebas nodded. “It’s faint, but yes. This way.”

He led Marek into the woods behind the farm, his hand hovering near the small dagger at his belt. The hum grew stronger with every step, until they reached a clearing. At its center stood a strange, pulsating orb of light, its surface shimmering with an otherworldly energy.

“A rift,” Marek said, his voice low. “Small, but dangerous. It’s drawing the animals in.”

As if on cue, the orb rippled, and a creature stepped through. It was small, barely the size of a dog, with leathery skin and glowing red eyes. A low growl rumbled from its throat as it fixed its gaze on Sebas.

“Your first test,” Marek said, stepping back. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Sebas’s heart raced. The creature lunged, and he barely had time to dodge. His hand shot out instinctively, and the sigil on his palm flared to life. A stream of fiery energy erupted from his hand, striking the creature and sending it tumbling backward.

The beast screeched, its body convulsing as the flames consumed it. Sebas stared at his hand in shock. The power had come so easily, so naturally. But there was no time to dwell on it—more creatures emerged from the rift, their red eyes glowing with malice.

“Focus,” Marek called. “Control the fire. Don’t let it control you.”

Sebas gritted his teeth and raised his hand again. The fire responded, surging forth in a controlled arc. He moved with purpose, dodging and striking, each blast of flame more precise than the last. The creatures fell one by one, their bodies dissolving into magicules that drifted into the air.

As the last creature fell, the rift began to shrink, its light dimming until it vanished completely. Sebas stood panting, his body trembling from the effort.

Marek clapped slowly. “Not bad for a rookie.”

Sebas shot him a glare, but he couldn’t suppress the small surge of pride. He’d done it. He’d faced a threat and come out on top.

“Congratulations,” Marek said, his tone oddly sincere. “You’ve taken your first step. Level 1.”

Sebas glanced at his hands, feeling the faint hum of the magicules he’d absorbed. It was only a beginning, but it was enough to ignite a spark of hope.

“Let’s head back,” Marek said, turning toward the farm. “There’s still much to learn, and the path only gets harder from here.”

Sebas followed, his steps lighter than they’d been that morning. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he was moving forward.