The sound of saddles being fastened and supplies loaded fills the air as Domnik tightens the strap on his pack. The early morning sun casts long shadows across the palace grounds, the crisp air biting against the skin.

"You sure you're ready for this?" Domnik asks, breaking the silence.

I glance up from where I'm securing my own gear, the weight of Brenelor's request still pressing on my shoulders. "We don't have a choice. Kylen's out there somewhere, and I'm not leaving him to whatever's lurking in Grimhold Peak."

Domnik nods, though his expression is tight. "Just saying. A missing scouting party? Weird activity around the peak? Sounds like trouble to me."

"Sounds like every other day of our lives," I reply, slinging my pack over my shoulder.

Domnik smirks. "Fair point. Still, I've got a bad feeling about this one."

Before I can respond, Brenelor strides toward us, Alyse trailing a few steps behind. She looks annoyed, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Everything ready?" Brenelor asks, her tone brisk.

"Ready as we'll ever be," I reply, checking the straps on my sword.

Brenelor's sharp gaze flickers between Domnik and me, her expression softening briefly. "Be careful out there. Grimhold Peak isn't just dangerous—it's unpredictable. If something's happened to Kylen, I have no doubt you'll find him. But don't take unnecessary risks."

"Unnecessary risks are kind of our thing," Domnik mutters under his breath.

Alyse steps forward, her voice cutting through the tension. "You're really going to send them off while I just sit here and wait?"

Brenelor sighs, clearly having had this argument before. "Alyse, we've discussed this—"

"I'm not helpless," Alyse snaps. "I could help them. I should help them."

"And you will," Brenelor says firmly, "when the time is right. But not now."

Alyse's glare could cut steel, but she doesn't push further. Instead, she looks at me. "Be careful, Red. And come back in one piece."

I offer her a small smile. "Always."

With that, Brenelor steps back, watching as Domnik and I mount our horses. The gates of the city creak open, revealing the long road ahead.

"Let's go," I say, nudging my horse forward.

Domnik falls in beside me, and together, we ride out into the unknown. Grimhold Peak awaits.

The center of Celestria fades behind us, the grand towers of the palace and the city silhouetted against the midday sky. The journey to Grimhold Peak will take us through Valoria, across nearly five hundred kilometers of rough terrain. Neither Domnik nor I have ever had the luxury of a straightforward mission, and this one feels no different.

The dirt road ahead winds through the dense forests that surround Celestria's borders. The trees stretch tall and shadowy, their branches intertwining like skeletal fingers. The air grows colder with each passing hour, a stark contrast to the warmth of the palace grounds.

Domnik rides slightly ahead, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. His horns barely visible beneath the hood of his cloak.

"So," he says, breaking the silence. "You've been around Grimhold Peak before, right?"

"Yeah," I reply. "Back when I was a kid, my dad used to take me hunting near there. Never got too close to the peak itself, though. Locals had a lot of stories about strange things happening up there. Disappearances, shadowy figures in the woods, that kind of thing."

Domnik chuckles, though there's no humor in it. "Figures. Why does it always have to be the creepy places with us?"

"Because we don't get the easy jobs," I say, adjusting my grip on the reins.

"I went there too once."

"You did?" I question.

"Yeah, I found the Darkblade in a chamber beneath the peak, creepy place. Filled with zombies and shit."

Sounds like paradise.

He glances back at me. "You think Kylen's still alive?"

The question catches me off guard. I hesitate before answering. "Yeah. If anyone could handle themselves out there, it's Kylen. But something must've gone wrong, or he'd be back by now."

Domnik nods but doesn't look convinced. "Let's just hope we find him before whatever's out there does."

We push hard through the day, covering as much ground as we can. By nightfall, we've made decent progress, but we're still days away from Valoria.

The campfire crackles between us as we settle in for the night. Domnik leans back against a fallen log, poking at the flames with a stick. The warm light flickers across his face, casting shadows over the faint curve of his horns.

"You ever wonder if we're just pawns in all this?" he asks suddenly.

I look up from sharpening my blade. "What do you mean?"

"All of it," he says, gesturing vaguely. "Brenelor sending us out here, the gods and their stupid schemes, even Muthos pulling the strings. Sometimes it feels like we're just pieces on their chessboard, moving wherever they want us to."

I shrug. "Maybe we are. But pawns can still take kings if they play their cards right."

Domnik smirks at that, shaking his head. "You always have a way of spinning it, don't you?"

"Hey, it's better than giving up," I say, setting my blade aside. "And besides, we've got bigger things to worry about than what the gods want. Like finding Kylen and not freezing to death out here."

Domnik chuckles, the sound soft and brief. "Fair point."

The forest around us grows eerily quiet as the fire dies down. The usual chirping of insects and rustling of leaves is absent, replaced by an unnatural stillness.

I reach for my sword instinctively. "You hear that?"

Domnik is already on his feet, scanning the darkness beyond the firelight. "Yeah. Too quiet."

A low growl echoes from the trees, followed by the sound of something massive moving through the underbrush. The horses whinny nervously, pulling against their reins.

"Looks like trouble found us first," Domnik mutters, his hands igniting with a faint red glow as he prepares a spell.

I rise to my feet, gripping my sword tightly. The shadows at the edge of the fire seem to shift, and a pair of glowing eyes pierces the darkness.

"Get ready," I say, my voice steady despite the knot forming in my stomach.

The creature steps into the light, its form grotesque and otherworldly—a twisted amalgamation of beast and shadow. Its claws glint in the firelight as it snarls, revealing rows of jagged teeth.

"Great," Domnik says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Another monster. Just what we needed."

"Focus," I snap, raising my sword. "This thing's not here for a friendly chat."

The beast lunges, claws slashing through the air as it closes the distance in a blur of shadow. I roll to the side, feeling the rush of wind as its attack narrowly misses. Domnik is already on the move, his hands blazing with fire as he hurls a crackling orb of energy at the creature.

The flame strikes true, illuminating the beast for a split second. Its form is monstrous—part wolf, part shadow, with limbs that seem to shift and contort as if refusing to hold a solid shape. The flames lick at its body, but it shakes them off with a snarl.

"Not so flammable, huh?" Domnik mutters, stepping back to keep distance. "That's really not good for us!"

"Great observation," I call out, raising my sword. "Got any other bright ideas?"

The creature pivots toward me, its glowing eyes narrowing. It charges again, but this time I'm ready. I sidestep, slashing downward with all my strength. My blade bites into its side, and it howls—a piercing, unnatural sound that makes my ears ring.

"Keep it distracted!" Domnik shouts, his hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. The runes he's tracing begin to glow, swirling together into a dense orb of energy.

"No problem!" I shout back, narrowly dodging another swipe of the beast's claws. I lash out again, my blade sparking as it connects with its shadowy flesh. The creature staggers but doesn't fall, its form rippling as if it's made of smoke.

Domnik's flame erupts with a deafening roar, a column of fire and force slamming into the beast. This time, it doesn't shrug it off. The creature screeches as the fire engulfs it, thrashing wildly before finally collapsing into a heap. Its body dissolves into shadow, leaving only a faint black residue on the forest floor.

I lower my sword, panting. "What the hell was that?"

Domnik walks over, his hands still glowing faintly. "No idea, but it's dead now. Or... whatever counts as dead for something like that."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

I glance around the clearing, my grip on my sword still tight. The forest is quiet again, but the air feels heavier somehow, like the fight left behind a trace of whatever dark magic created that thing.

"Think it's alone?" I ask.

Domnik shakes his head. "Doubt it. Things like that don't just pop up out of nowhere. Someone—or something—sent it."

I grimace, sheathing my sword. "Perfect. Just what we need. Another problem to deal with."

Domnik nods toward the fire, which is now little more than embers. "We're not getting much sleep tonight, are we?"

"Not if there's more of those things out there," I say. "Let's keep moving. The sooner we get to Valoria, the better."

By the time the sun begins to rise, we've put several more kilometers between us and the clearing. The forest gradually gives way to rolling hills, the air growing colder as we head deeper into the wilderness.

Domnik rides beside me, his usual sarcasm tempered by the tension still hanging over us. "So, any guesses who sent that thing? Muthos, maybe?"

"Could be," I say, scanning the horizon. "It didn't seem vampiric."

He frowns. "No, but the werewolves have fallen under his rule since you killed Udis."

"You're daemon friends tell you that?," I reply, though the knot in my stomach hasn't loosened since the fight.

"Yeah, what's left of them anyway."

Ahead, the road curves toward a small village nestled at the base of a hill. Smoke rises from chimneys, and the faint sounds of morning activity reach our ears. It's the first sign of civilization we've seen since leaving Celestria.

"We should stop here," I say. "Resupply, maybe ask around. If Kylen passed through, someone might've seen him."

Domnik nods. "Worth a shot. Plus, I wouldn't mind a hot meal for once."

As we ride into the village, the townsfolk eye us warily, their conversations quieting as we pass. It's clear they don't get many visitors—especially not ones armed to the teeth.

I dismount near what looks like an inn, tying my horse to a post. Domnik does the same, his gaze sweeping over the gathered villagers.

"Friendly bunch," he mutters.

"They're just cautious," I say. "Let's see what we can find out."

We step into the inn, the scent of roasted meat and old ale hitting me immediately. The room is dimly lit, its wooden beams aged and worn. A handful of villagers sit scattered around the space, their eyes darting to us the moment we enter. Conversations hush as suspicion settles over the room.

Domnik leans toward me, lowering his voice. "Think they've seen a Daem before?"

I shoot him a look. "Not helping."

We approach the innkeeper, a stocky man with graying hair and an apron stained with grease. He eyes us cautiously, wiping his hands on a rag as we stop at the counter.

"Travelers," he says, his tone neutral but guarded. "Don't get many of your kind here."

"We're looking for someone," I reply, keeping my voice steady. "A young man, about his height," I point to Domnik. "... dark hair, traveling with a team, all wearing Imperial garb. He would've passed through here recently, heading toward Grimhold Peak."

The innkeeper's expression darkens at the mention of the peak. He glances around the room before leaning in closer. "You don't want to be heading there. Nothing good comes from that place."

"We don't have a choice," I say firmly. "Have you seen him?"

The man hesitates, then nods reluctantly. "Aye, I saw him. Him and his group stopped here two nights ago. Rested for a bit, bought supplies, then headed north."

"Did he say anything about why he was going to the peak?" Domnik asks, his voice sharp.

The innkeeper shakes his head. "Didn't talk much. But they looked worried. Like they knew they shouldn't be going there. Haven't seen them since."

A woman sitting near the hearth speaks up, her voice trembling. "Strange things have been happening near the peak. Shadows moving in the woods. People disappearing. The last group that went up there never came back."

Domnik crosses his arms. "Sounds like exactly where we need to go."

The innkeeper shoots him a glare. "You'd do well to turn back while you still can. Whatever's up there—it's not meant for mortal eyes."

"Good thing we aren't mortal then, aye?" Domnik nudges me in the rib.

I roll my eyes and look back to the innkeep. "We'll take our chances," I say, sliding a few coins across the counter. "Thanks for the information."

The innkeeper pockets the coins reluctantly. "If you're set on going, take care. And stay on the main road. Stray too far, and you'll never find your way out."

As we leave the inn, Domnik pulls his hood up, shielding his horns from the villagers' prying eyes. The cold air nips at my face as we head toward the edge of the village, our horses waiting where we left them.

"What do you think?" I ask, mounting my horse.

Domnik sighs. "I think your brother's a stubborn idiot for going anywhere near that place. But it sounds like he made it this far."

"Yeah, but we're still a couple of days behind him," I say, frustration creeping into my voice. "If something happened to his team up there..."

Domnik doesn't finish the thought, and neither do I.

As we prepare to leave, a young boy runs up to us, clutching something in his hands. His clothes are tattered, and his face is streaked with dirt, but his eyes are wide with urgency.

"Wait!" he calls out, stopping a few feet away. "You're looking for the man with the Imperial Army, right?"

I nod. "You saw him?"

The boy nods quickly and holds out his hand. In it is a piece of cloth, torn and stained with blood. "He dropped this. Found it near the forest edge yesterday."

I take the cloth, my stomach sinking as I recognize the crest embroidered on it.

"Where did you find this?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.

"Near the old trail that leads to the peak," the boy says, glancing nervously toward the forest. "I didn't follow it. Too dangerous. But I thought... maybe it would help."

"Thanks, kid," Domnik says, tossing him a coin.

The boy catches it and runs off without another word.

I stare at the cloth for a moment before tucking it into my pouch. "He's hurt. Or worse."

Domnik places a hand on my shoulder. "We'll find him, Red. But we need to move."

I nod, the knot in my stomach tightening. Without another word, we spur our horses forward, leaving the village behind as the shadow of Grimhold Peak looms ever closer.

The forest grows darker the farther we venture, the thick canopy above swallowing most of the daylight. It's as if the sun refuses to touch this place. The air is cold and damp, the kind of chill that settles deep into your bones and refuses to leave.

Domnik rides beside me, his usual smirk replaced with a rare seriousness. His eyes scan the dense foliage, watching for any sign of movement. My grip on the reins tightens as I keep one hand on the hilt of my sword.

The trail the boy mentioned is barely visible, overgrown with twisted roots and patches of moss. It's clear no one uses this path regularly. The horses tread carefully, their hooves crunching against fallen leaves and snapping twigs.

"Hell of a place for a secret mission," Domnik mutters, his voice low.

"Kylen didn't have a choice," I reply. "Brenelor sent him here for a reason. Something's going on, and whatever it is, it's big enough to risk losing a whole team."

Domnik snorts. "Yeah, well, if this is what 'big' looks like, I'd rather stay small."

A sudden rustling in the underbrush makes both of us freeze. My hand flies to my sword, and Domnik's fingers begin to glow faintly as he readies a flame.

The rustling grows louder, closer. My heart pounds as I strain to see through the thick undergrowth.

A deer bursts from the bushes, its eyes wide with panic as it bolts across the trail and disappears into the trees.

Domnik exhales sharply. "Oh thank Draco."

Something about the deer's fear feels off, like it wasn't running from us but from something else.

"Keep moving," I say, nudging my horse forward.

The trail winds deeper into the forest, the trees growing taller and more twisted. Strange symbols are carved into some of the trunks, their meanings lost to time. The air feels heavier here, charged with an unnatural energy that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Domnik notices too. "You feel that?"

"Yeah," I say quietly. "It's like the forest is alive."

"Not in a good way," he mutters, his gaze darting around.

As we continue, the silence becomes oppressive. Even the birds have stopped singing. The only sounds are the creak of saddle leather and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot.

Then we see it.

A broken wagon lies in the middle of the trail, its wheels shattered and its contents scattered. The wood is splintered and clawed, as if something massive tore it apart. Blood stains the ground nearby, dark and dried.

I dismount, drawing my sword as I approach cautiously. Domnik follows, his hands glowing faintly with magical energy.

"This has to be Kylen's team," I say, kneeling to inspect the wreckage. "No other reason for a wagon to be this far into the forest."

Domnik crouches beside me, his expression grim. "Looks like they didn't make it far past the village. Whatever hit them, it wasn't human."

I pick up a torn piece of cloth, stained with blood and dirt. It matches the crest on the scrap the boy gave me. My jaw tightens as I stand, scanning the surrounding forest.

"We need to keep going," I say.

Domnik hesitates. "Red, if this is what we're walking into..."

"We're not turning back," I interrupt. "Kylen could still be alive. And if he's not, we're going to find out who did this."

Domnik nods, his usual bravado gone. "Alright. Let's move."

We leave the wagon behind, the trail growing even more treacherous as we press on. The symbols on the trees become more frequent, and the air grows colder with every step.

Then, just as the trail begins to climb upward, we hear it—a rustling in the underbrush, too deliberate to be the wind.

Domnik stops in his tracks. "Please don't say it's another weird shadowbeast thing."

I shake my head, drawing my sword. "Whatever it is, it's watching us."

The rustling grows louder, circling us in the shadows. Then a figure emerges from the trees. At first, it looks like a man, tall and cloaked in black, his face pale as death. But as he steps closer, I see the gleam of fangs beneath his smirk, and his eyes glint crimson in the dim light.

"Travelers," he says, his voice smooth and cold. "How fortunate. I was just starting to feel peckish."

Domnik groans. "Vampires. Because this day wasn't bad enough already."

The vampire chuckles, his movements unnervingly graceful as he circles us. "You're far from the safety of Celestria, boys. Tell me, why would anyone be foolish enough to venture this close to Grimhold Peak?"

I step forward, keeping my sword raised. "We're looking for someone. I'm guessing you've seen him—a team of soldiers, a wagon?"

The vampire tilts his head, his grin widening. "Oh, yes. I saw them. Brave little fools. They were quite... nourishing."

My stomach twists, and my grip on the sword tightens. "You killed them."

"I wouldn't call it killing," he says, feigning innocence. "More like... taking what I needed. But don't worry. There's plenty left for you."

In a blur, he lunges at me, faster than I can react. I barely manage to raise my sword in time, the blade catching him in the chest. He hisses, recoiling, smoke rising from where the steel touched his skin.

"Silver," he growls, his playful tone gone. "How quaint."

Domnik steps up beside me, his hands glowing with energy. "Quaint? Let's see how you feel about this."

He unleashes a blast of fire, the flames roaring toward the vampire. The creature dodges with supernatural speed, disappearing into the shadows.

"Careful," Domnik mutters, his eyes scanning the trees. "He's not alone."

As if on cue, two more vampires step out of the darkness, their eyes glowing like embers. One is a woman, her long hair flowing like ink, and the other a hulking brute with a sneer that promises pain.

"Three against two," Domnik says, glancing at me. "Not the worst odds we've had."

The vampires don't give us time to strategize. They attack all at once, fangs bared and claws gleaming.

I engage the brute, his strength nearly overwhelming as he swings at me with inhuman force. My sword meets his claws in a shower of sparks, and I manage to drive him back with a quick slash to his arm.

Domnik focuses on the woman, hurling bolts of fire that illuminate the dark forest. She moves like a shadow, evading his attacks with eerie grace before darting in to swipe at him. He counters with a burst of wind, sending her sprawling.

The first vampire reappears, aiming straight for me. He moves like lightning, his claws grazing my side before I can react. Pain flares, but I grit my teeth and swing my sword, forcing him back.

"Domnik!" I shout.

"On it!" he replies, gathering energy in his hands. With a roar, he releases a wave of fire that engulfs the area, forcing the vampires to retreat.

When the flames die down, the woman and the brute are gone, leaving only the first vampire. He's battered and burned, but still standing.

"You're stronger than I expected," he says, his voice dripping with venom. "But you've made a mistake coming here. Grimhold Peak doesn't forgive trespassers."

I step forward, pointing my sword at him. "Where's Kylen?"

The vampire smirks. "Closer than you think. But you'll never reach him. Not alive."

Before I can strike, he dissolves into mist, vanishing into the trees.

Domnik lowers his hands, panting from the exertion. "Well, that was fun."

I glance at the blood on my side and the scorch marks on the ground. "We're getting close. If the vampires are this far out, Grimhold Peak is worse than we thought."

Domnik nods, his face grim. "Yeah. And we just rang the dinner bell."

I touch my side and conjure a flame that rests over the wound, cauterizing it and stopping the blood.

We press on, the forest growing darker and colder with every step, the shadow of Grimhold Peak looming ever larger.

As we reach the edge of the mountain, my eyes lock onto a faint flicker in the distance—a torch, its flame struggling against the chilling winds. It lies abandoned on the rocky ground, casting erratic shadows that dance across the jagged entrance of a massive cave. The sight sends a shiver down my spine.

Domnik steps forward, crouching beside the torch. His fingers graze the soot-blackened handle, still warm to the touch. "Recently dropped," he mutters, his voice tinged with unease.