The first light of dawn filtered through the thin curtains of Jack's modest room, casting pale stripes across the wooden floor. He lay awake, the uneasy dreams of the night fading but not forgotten. Voices on the wind, shadows that moved just beyond sight—images that clung to the edges of his consciousness. With a sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, rubbing a hand over his face.

After dressing, he descended the narrow staircase to the inn's common room. The scent of fresh bread and herbal tea greeted him, a comforting contrast to the chill that hung in the air. Elyse stood behind the bar, arranging an assortment of mugs and plates. She looked up as he approached, offering a tentative smile.

"Good morning," she said softly.

"Morning," Jack replied. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough. And you?"

He considered lying but chose honesty. "Restless night, to be honest."

Her gaze sharpened. "Nightmares?"

"Something like that."

She nodded knowingly. "You're not the only one. Many here have trouble sleeping."

"Because of the marsh?"

She hesitated before answering. "Among other things."

Jack took a seat at a nearby table. "Any chance of some breakfast?"

"Of course." She disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a plate of warm bread, cheese, and a steaming mug of tea. "It's not much, but it's filling."

"Looks perfect," he assured her. As he ate, he observed the room. A few patrons were scattered about, speaking in hushed tones. Their eyes frequently darted toward the windows, as if expecting something—or dreading it.

Elyse lingered nearby, wiping down an already clean table. Jack sensed she had more to say.

"Something on your mind?" he prompted.

She glanced around before stepping closer. "You mentioned meeting Thomas last night."

"I did. Seems like a good kid."

"He is," she agreed. "But he's been through a lot since his father disappeared."

"He believes his father is still out there."

"Yes." Her expression turned sad. "Most have given up hope, but Thomas refuses."

"I'm planning to help him look," Jack said.

Elyse's eyes widened slightly. "That's... noble of you, but you don't know what you're getting into."

"Then maybe you can enlighten me."

She bit her lip, conflicted. "The marsh isn't safe. People who go in often don't come back. Those who do are... changed."

"Changed how?"

"Some fall ill with strange ailments. Others lose their minds, rambling about shadows and voices."

"Has anyone tried to investigate?"

"A few. Like Thomas's father, Daniel. He was a respected hunter, thought he could find the source of the troubles."

"And the authorities?"

She gave a bitter laugh. "We're too remote for them to care. We're on our own."

Jack leaned forward. "Elyse, I want to help. But I need to know what I'm dealing with."

She studied him for a long moment. "Meet me here tonight after sundown. There's someone you should talk to."

"Who?"

"Elder Calder. He knows more about the marsh than anyone. He might be willing to share, if he trusts you."

"Alright. I'll be here."

She straightened up as one of the patrons called for a refill. "Be careful today, Jack. The mist is thicker than usual."

"I'll keep that in mind."

After finishing his meal, Jack stepped outside. The village was shrouded in a thin mist that muted the colors of the buildings and muffled sound. The sun was little more than a pale disc behind a veil of gray.

He made his way to the village square, where he had agreed to meet Thomas. The boy was already there, sitting on the edge of the weathered fountain, his legs swinging impatiently.

"Morning," Jack called out.

Thomas jumped up, a hopeful expression on his face. "You came!"

"Of course. A promise is a promise."

They began walking toward the outskirts of the village. "So, where do we start?" Jack asked.

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"I've been mapping the areas where people disappeared," Thomas said, pulling a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. "Most vanish near the old paths into the marsh."

Jack examined the crude map. "Smart thinking. Has anyone searched these areas?"

"Not thoroughly. Everyone's too scared."

"Can't say I blame them."

They reached the edge of the marsh, where the solid ground gave way to spongy earth. The air was heavier here, the mist swirling in slow eddies that obscured their vision beyond a few dozen paces.

"Stay close," Jack instructed.

Thomas nodded, his earlier enthusiasm tempered by caution.

As they ventured deeper, the silence became oppressive. No birds sang, and the usual buzz of insects was absent. The only sounds were their footsteps squelching in the damp soil and the occasional drip of moisture from the overhanging branches.

Jack remained alert, his senses attuned to any sign of danger. "Tell me about your father," he said quietly.

"He was brave," Thomas replied. "Always stood up for others. He believed the marsh was the key to stopping whatever is happening."

"Did he say why?"

"He thought something was corrupting it. An evil force." The boy's voice wavered slightly.

They came upon a clearing where the remains of an old stone structure stood—perhaps once a watchtower or shrine, now reduced to rubble.

"Wait here," Jack said, moving ahead to inspect the area.

He examined the stones, noting strange symbols etched into them. They were worn and barely legible, but he recognized some as protective runes used in ancient rituals.

"Find something?" Thomas called softly.

"Maybe." Jack crouched down, brushing away moss to reveal more markings. A sudden sense of being watched prickled at his neck.

"Thomas, stay alert," he warned.

The boy moved closer, his eyes darting nervously. "What's wrong?"

Before Jack could answer, a shadow flickered at the edge of his vision. He stood up slowly, his hand moving toward the hilt of his sword.

"There's someone here," he whispered.

A low, guttural sound echoed from the mist—a cross between a growl and a moan.

"Get behind me," Jack ordered.

Thomas obeyed, his face pale.

From the mist emerged a figure, hunched and distorted. Its skin was ashen, stretched taut over protruding bones. Empty eye sockets stared blindly, and its mouth hung open in a silent scream.

"What is that?" Thomas gasped.

"A Wraithspawn," Jack muttered, drawing his sword.

The creature lunged forward with surprising speed. Jack sidestepped its attack, slashing at its side. The blade met resistance as if cutting through dense fog, but the creature recoiled, emitting a piercing shriek.

"Run!" Jack shouted.

They bolted back toward the village, the creature pursuing them with unnatural agility. The terrain worked against them, feet slipping on wet ground.

Ahead, Jack spotted a fallen tree forming a narrow bridge over a deep, murky stream. "This way!"

They scrambled across the log, Thomas nearly losing his balance. The Wraithspawn halted at the edge of the stream, writhing in apparent frustration. It emitted another shriek before retreating into the mist.

Breathing heavily, they continued until the familiar structures of the village came into view. They slowed to a walk, casting glances over their shoulders to ensure they weren't followed.

At the village entrance, they were met by Ser Garrick, a stern-faced man with a commanding presence. His eyes narrowed as he took in their disheveled appearance.

"What have you two been up to?" he demanded.

"Nothing that concerns you," Jack replied curtly.

Garrick scowled. "You're the outsider. Everything you do concerns me."

"We were just exploring," Thomas said, attempting to defuse the tension.

"Your mother is worried sick," Garrick snapped at the boy. "Get home. Now."

Thomas looked to Jack, who gave a reassuring nod. "Go on. We'll talk later."

The boy hurried off, leaving the two men facing each other.

"You've got no business dragging our children into danger," Garrick said coldly.

"I didn't drag him anywhere. He's looking for his father."

"Daniel made his choice. It's not your place to interfere."

"Someone has to. People are disappearing, and everyone here seems content to do nothing."

Garrick stepped closer, his jaw tight. "Listen carefully, outsider. We don't need your help. In fact, we'd prefer if you moved along."

Jack met his gaze steadily. "I'm not going anywhere."

A tense silence hung between them before Garrick scoffed. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."

He turned and strode away, leaving Jack with a simmering frustration.

Back at the inn, Jack found Elyse waiting for him, concern etched on her face. "I heard you went into the marsh."

"Word travels fast," he said, taking a seat at an empty table.

She sat across from him. "You're lucky to have made it back."

"Ran into one of those Wraithspawns. Nasty creatures."

Her eyes widened. "You saw one?"

"Up close and personal."

"This is worse than I thought," she murmured.

"Tell me about it. And Ser Garrick isn't exactly welcoming."

She sighed. "He means well. Thinks he's protecting us."

"By ignoring the problem?"

"By preventing panic," she corrected. "But I agree—something must be done."

"Then let's meet this Elder Calder you mentioned."

She nodded. "Tonight, after sundown. Be cautious until then."

"Always am."

As evening fell, Jack prepared for the meeting. The village was quieter than usual, the mist thickening into a dense fog that swallowed sound and light. He made his way to a small cottage on the outskirts, where Elyse waited by the door.

"He's inside," she whispered. "Follow me."

They entered a dimly lit room cluttered with books, scrolls, and strange artifacts. An elderly man with a long beard sat by the hearth, his eyes sharp despite his frail appearance.

"Elder Calder, this is Jack," Elyse introduced them.

"So, you're the one stirring up the hornet's nest," Calder said, his voice raspy but firm.

"Just trying to help," Jack replied.

"Help, is it? Many have tried. All have failed."

"Maybe they didn't have the right information."

Calder gestured to a chair. "Sit. Let's see if you're different."

Jack took a seat, leaning forward attentively.

"The marsh wasn't always cursed," Calder began. "It was once a place of balance, where the veil between worlds was thin but stable."

"What changed?"

"An event long ago—the Great Sundering. A ritual gone awry, unleashing forces beyond our understanding."

Jack exchanged a glance with Elyse. "And these Wraithspawns?"

"Manifestations of corrupted energy. They feed on fear and despair."

"How can they be stopped?"

Calder sighed. "To seal the breach, one must confront the source—a nexus deep within the marsh."

"Has anyone attempted this?"

"Daniel tried," Calder said sadly. "He believed he could succeed where others failed."

"And now he's missing."

"Presumed dead," the elder confirmed.

"I'm willing to try," Jack declared.

Elyse looked at him sharply. "You can't go alone."

"I have no intention of dragging anyone else into danger."

"You'll need guidance," Calder interjected. "And perhaps, there's a way to increase your chances."

He reached for a worn tome, flipping to a page filled with intricate diagrams. "There are rituals that may protect you, if you're willing to learn."

"Teach me," Jack said without hesitation.

"Very well. But be warned—the path ahead is fraught with peril."

"I'm aware."

Elyse placed a hand on Jack's arm. "I'll help however I can."

He gave her a grateful smile. "I appreciate that."

Calder began outlining the steps of the protective ritual, his voice steady but grave. As they delved deeper into the preparations, Jack couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out—for the village, for Thomas's father, and perhaps for them all.

Outside, the distant wail of a Wraithspawn echoed through the night, a chilling reminder of the forces they were up against.