The warning horn's urgent call shattered the pre-dawn stillness, its deep resonance echoing across Elarala's valley. Adrian bolted upright, heart hammering against his ribs. The mark on his chest burned with an intensity he'd never felt before—not merely warm, but scorching, as if trying to burn its way out of his flesh.

Found you, fire bearer.

The whispered words from his dream lingered in his mind, chilling despite the heat radiating from his chest. He flung himself from the bed, grabbing his sword from where it leaned against the wall. Outside, the horn sounded again—three short blasts followed by one long one. Carl's warning signal.

Adrian didn't bother with proper attire. He yanked on a loose shirt, not bothering to lace it, and sprinted barefoot from his cottage. The cool grass beneath his feet contrasted sharply with the burning sensation in his chest. As he crested the small hill separating his dwelling from Elarala's, the sight that greeted him froze his blood.

On the northern ridge overlooking the valley stood a solitary figure, hooded and cloaked in black, staff raised toward the heavens. From the staff's cage-like top, blue flames licked upward, casting an eerie light across the landscape. Even at this distance, Adrian could feel the malevolent energy radiating from the figure.

"A Collector," he whispered, the dream's imagery suddenly, terrifyingly real.

"Adrian!" Carl's voice rang out as the old man emerged from the tree line, crossbow in hand. He was breathing heavily, his face flushed with exertion. "There are more—at least three—surrounding the valley."

Adrian cursed under his breath. "Where's Elarala?"

"Here." The blind seer's calm voice came from behind him. Adrian turned to find her dressed in a simple gray robe, her silver hair flowing loose around her shoulders. Despite her blindness, her face was turned unerringly toward the northern ridge. "They've found us sooner than I anticipated."

"How?" Adrian demanded, his voice tight with tension. "I thought we were protected here."

"Your dreams," Elarala replied simply. "When you accessed the Evermark's deeper powers, you became visible to them. Like a beacon in the night."

Guilt twisted in Adrian's stomach. "So this is my fault."

"No," Carl interjected firmly. "It was inevitable. The Obsidian Circle has been searching for Evermark bearers for centuries. If anything, we bought time with Elarala's protections."

The figure on the ridge raised its staff higher. The blue flames intensified, then shot skyward in a brilliant column. In response, similar columns of different-colored flames erupted from beyond the valley's other boundaries—green to the east, yellow to the south, and violet to the west.

"They're establishing a containment perimeter," Elarala said, her voice unnervingly calm. "A ritual circle to prevent escape."

Adrian's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. "Then we fight."

"No." Elarala's tone brooked no argument. "That's exactly what they want. The Collectors are designed to capture, not kill. If they engage you in battle, it's merely to exhaust you, make you call upon the Evermark repeatedly until you're too weak to resist."

"Then what do you suggest?" Adrian asked, struggling to keep the frustration from his voice.

Elarala turned her blind eyes toward him. "We accelerate our plans. We leave for Forest Star Village immediately."

"But we aren't ready," Carl protested. "We need supplies, weapons—"

"We have no choice," Elarala cut him off. "Their ritual will take time to complete, but once it does, we'll be trapped. We must go now, while the circle is still forming."

Adrian glanced back at the ridge. The hooded figure remained motionless, blue flames still reaching toward the sky. Somehow, despite the distance, Adrian felt certain the Collector was watching him directly, could perhaps even hear their conversation.

"What about your cottage? Your garden? Your life here?" he asked Elarala.

A sad smile touched her lips. "Material things, all replaceable. Knowledge and lives are not."

"I'll gather what supplies I can," Carl said, already turning to head back toward his rebuilt cabin. "Meet at the eastern path in fifteen minutes. It's the furthest from any of the Collectors."

Adrian nodded, then hesitated. "I need to get my things."

"Be swift," Elarala cautioned. "And Adrian... remember the containment training we practiced yesterday. Keep your fire hidden within. They can track active magic, but not potential."

Adrian sprinted back to his cottage, mind racing. Inside, he moved with practiced efficiency, gathering only essentials: a spare set of clothes, a waterskin, a small pouch of dried meat and bread. He changed into proper attire—sturdy boots, reinforced leather pants, and a close-fitting tunic that wouldn't restrict movement. Over this, he donned the lightweight armor Carl had helped him modify after his arrival in the valley.

As he worked, a strange calm settled over him. The initial panic receded, replaced by a focused determination. This wasn't his first time preparing for battle or hasty retreat—his military training served him well.

He paused at his small writing desk, eyeing the journal he'd kept since awakening in this strange time. It contained his thoughts, observations, and notes from his training with Elarala. After a moment's hesitation, he shoved it into his pack. Some things were worth preserving.

The Evermark on his chest continued to burn, responding to the proximity of the Collectors. Adrian closed his eyes, implementing Elarala's technique. He visualized his inner fire condensing, drawing inward instead of radiating outward, becoming a dense ember in his core rather than a radiating flame. The burning sensation didn't diminish, but it changed, becoming a concentrated heat at his center rather than an outward blaze.

Hide the flame that wishes to be seen. Contain what yearns to be free.

Elarala's training words echoed in his mind as he completed the mental exercise. When he opened his eyes, he noticed the candles in his cottage, which had been flickering wildly in response to his agitation, now burned steadily.

With a final glance around the small dwelling that had been his home these past months, Adrian slung his pack over his shoulder, secured his sword at his hip, and stepped out into the growing dawn light.

He made it halfway to the eastern path before the attack came.

The ground beneath his feet erupted, sending him sprawling. From the freshly torn earth rose three figures—humanoid in shape but wrong in every detail. Their skin was obsidian black and seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Where eyes should be, they had only smooth, featureless surfaces, and their limbs bent at unnatural angles.

Shadow Walkers, Adrian recognized from Carl's descriptions. Foot soldiers of the Obsidian Circle, created from shadow and given limited form.

Adrian rolled to his feet, sword already drawn. His first instinct was to call upon his fire, but Elarala's warning held him back. Use of the Evermark would broadcast his position to every Collector in the area.

The first Shadow Walker lunged, movements jerky yet unnervingly fast. Adrian sidestepped, his blade slicing through the creature's extended arm. The limb dissolved into black mist, but immediately began reforming.

"Physical weapons won't stop them," came Elarala's voice. She stood twenty paces away, Carl at her side, his crossbow raised but unfired.

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"Then what will?" Adrian called, dancing backward as the second and third Shadow Walkers joined the first in a coordinated attack.

Instead of answering, Elarala raised her hands. The air around her seemed to ripple, and a soft silver light emanated from her palms. She spoke words in a language Adrian didn't recognize, guttural and flowing all at once.

The light shot forth, enveloping the Shadow Walkers. They writhed and twisted, their forms losing cohesion. Within seconds, they collapsed into pools of inky darkness that quickly evaporated in the morning light.

Adrian stared at Elarala in shock. In all their training sessions, she had never demonstrated such power.

"There's much you don't know about me," she said, answering his unspoken question. "And we have no time for explanations now. More will come."

As if summoned by her words, a howl rose from the western ridge—inhuman and chilling. It was answered by similar cries from the other three directions.

"They're accelerating the ritual," Carl said grimly. "They know we're trying to escape."

"Then we run," Adrian decided, sheathing his sword. "East, through the forest. The trees will provide cover."

The three of them sprinted toward the eastern path, Adrian and Carl flanking Elarala. Despite her blindness and apparent age, she moved with surprising agility, keeping pace without difficulty.

The forest loomed before them, ancient trees reaching skyward. Just as they reached the treeline, a column of green flame erupted from the ground directly in their path, forcing them to skid to a halt. The flames twisted and coalesced, forming a barrier that stretched in both directions as far as Adrian could see.

"They've closed the eastern exit," Elarala stated, her calm finally showing cracks.

"South?" Carl suggested, already turning.

Adrian shook his head. "They'll expect that. North, toward the Collector with the blue flame."

"That's madness," Carl objected.

"Precisely why they won't expect it," Adrian countered. "And their containment won't be as strong there since they're actively working the ritual."

Elarala nodded. "Adrian's right. Sometimes the most dangerous path is the safest."

Without further debate, they changed direction, moving swiftly through the valley toward the northern ridge. Adrian kept his fire tightly contained, though the effort made sweat bead on his forehead. Every instinct screamed at him to release it, to use it as a weapon, but he resisted.

As they approached the base of the ridge, the landscape changed. Grass withered beneath their feet, turning brown and then black as if burned by invisible flames. The air grew thick and difficult to breathe, tasting of metal and ash.

"Their ritual affects the land itself," Elarala explained between labored breaths. "It's drawing life energy to power the containment circle."

Adrian noticed dark veins spreading through the soil, pulsing with an sickly purple light. The same pattern he'd seen in his dream, matching the burn lines spreading through the forest around Forest Star Village.

"The sigil," he muttered. "It's the same one from my dream."

They began to climb the ridge, staying low and using the scattered boulders for cover. As they ascended, Adrian's chest burned hotter, the Evermark responding to the proximity of the ritual. Containing its energy became increasingly difficult, like trying to hold back a flood with bare hands.

Halfway up the slope, Carl grabbed Adrian's arm, pulling him down behind a large rock. Elarala crouched beside them, her breathing shallow.

"Look," Carl whispered, pointing to a small plateau fifty yards up the ridge.

There stood the blue-flamed Collector, still as a statue. Around him, a dozen Shadow Walkers moved in a perfect circle, their movements synchronized in what appeared to be a ritualistic dance. The blue flame from the Collector's staff had grown, forming a dome that pulsed in rhythm with the Shadow Walkers' movements.

"The northeastern corner of the containment ritual," Elarala murmured. "If we can disrupt it, we might create an opening."

"How?" Adrian asked. "You said physical weapons won't work on the Shadow Walkers, and I can't use the Evermark without alerting every Collector to my exact position."

A slight smile curved Elarala's lips. "I never said you couldn't use fire, Adrian. Only that you couldn't use the Evermark's fire."

Understanding dawned. Adrian looked around, spotting a dead tree not far from their position. Moving carefully to avoid detection, he retrieved a branch and returned to their hiding place.

"Carl, your tinderbox," he whispered.

The older man produced a small metal box from his pack. Adrian opened it, finding flint, steel, and char cloth inside. With practiced motions, he struck the flint against steel, creating sparks that caught on the char cloth. Gently blowing on the ember, he transferred it to the end of the branch, which caught fire quickly due to its dryness.

"A mundane fire won't be enough against them," Carl warned.

"It's not meant for them," Adrian replied, hefting the makeshift torch. "It's for him."

He nodded toward the Collector, whose attention remained focused on maintaining the ritual.

"Distraction?" Carl asked.

"Precisely. When I draw his attention, you two circle around and continue north. I'll catch up."

Elarala's hand found his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Be careful, Adrian. The Collectors are not merely human. They've bound themselves to aspects of the void between worlds."

Adrian nodded grimly. "I'll remember. Now go, on my signal."

He waited until Carl and Elarala were in position, then stood and hurled the burning branch with all his strength. His aim was true—the flaming projectile arced through the air and struck the Collector's upraised staff, knocking it sideways and disrupting the flow of blue flame.

The effect was immediate and violent. The dome of blue fire collapsed, sending a shockwave across the plateau. The Shadow Walkers' synchronization broke, their forms wavering as they stumbled. The Collector staggered, then whirled toward Adrian, hood falling back to reveal...nothing. Where a face should have been was only a swirling vortex of darkness, flecked with tiny points of light like distant stars.

"Now!" Adrian shouted to Carl and Elarala, who immediately began their circuitous route around the plateau.

The Collector raised a gloved hand toward Adrian. The air between them distorted, and Adrian felt an invisible force seize him, lifting him off the ground. His chest exploded with pain as the Evermark reacted violently to the Collector's power.

"Fire bearer," came a voice that wasn't truly a voice—more a sensation of words forming directly in Adrian's mind. "Your resistance is meaningless. The circle forms. The vessels gather."

Adrian struggled against the invisible grip, feet dangling helplessly above the ground. The Collector slowly closed its fist, and the pressure around Adrian increased, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

"You... don't... understand," Adrian gasped. "I'm not... resisting."

The Collector tilted its void-like head. "Explain."

Adrian smiled grimly. "I'm distracting."

A crossbow bolt suddenly protruded from the Collector's shoulder. The creature jerked backward, the invisible hold on Adrian instantly releasing. He crashed to the ground, rolling to absorb the impact.

Fifty yards away stood Carl, already reloading his crossbow. Beside him, Elarala had her hands raised, silver light gathering between her palms.

The Collector turned toward them, but Adrian was already moving. He charged forward, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. As the blade cleared its sheath, he focused intently on the training exercise Elarala had taught him—how to channel the tiniest fraction of the Evermark's power into an external object without fully activating the mark itself.

His sword's edge took on a faint red glow, barely perceptible in the morning light. When it struck the Collector's back, the creature let out a sound like metal tearing. Black ichor sprayed from the wound, sizzling where it touched the ground.

The Collector whirled, its void-face swirling faster in what Adrian interpreted as rage. It swung its staff like a club, forcing Adrian to duck and roll. The blue-flamed cage at the staff's tip left trails of cold fire in the air as it passed.

Carl fired again, his bolt striking the Collector's thigh. Simultaneously, Elarala released her gathered silver energy, which streaked toward the creature like lightning. When it struck, the Collector's form seemed to waver, becoming momentarily transparent before solidifying again.

Adrian seized the opportunity. He lunged forward, driving his subtly-enhanced sword directly into the swirling void where the Collector's heart should be. The blade sank in to the hilt.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the Collector's form began to collapse inward, as if being sucked into the very void that comprised its face. The staff clattered to the ground, its blue flame extinguishing instantly. Within seconds, nothing remained of the creature but a small pile of black dust, which the wind quickly dispersed.

The plateau fell eerily silent. The Shadow Walkers had vanished with their master's destruction.

Adrian stood panting, his sword still extended where the Collector had been. The faint red glow faded from the blade as he relaxed his concentration.

"Adrian!" Carl called, hurrying toward him with Elarala. "Are you hurt?"

"No," Adrian responded, though his chest still burned where the Evermark lay. "But we need to move quickly. The other Collectors will have felt this one's destruction."

As if to confirm his words, an unearthly shriek rose from the southern ridge, followed by answering calls from the east and west.

"The containment ritual is destabilizing without the fourth corner," Elarala observed. "We have a narrow window to escape."

Adrian sheathed his sword and retrieved his pack, which had fallen during the confrontation. "Then let's not waste it."

Together, they crested the northern ridge and began their descent on the other side. Behind them, columns of colored flame—green, yellow, and violet—shot skyward in angry response to their escape.

As they reached the bottom of the ridge and entered the dense forest that would provide cover for their journey, Adrian cast one last look back at Elarala's valley, the peaceful haven that had been his home.

"We'll return," Carl assured him, noting his gaze.

"Not as the same people," Adrian replied softly.

Elarala nodded in understanding. "Few journeys leave us unchanged, Adrian. Especially those that begin with fire and end in truth."

With that cryptic statement hanging in the air, the three fugitives disappeared into the shadowed forest, their path set for Forest Star Village and the ancient repository that might hold the knowledge they desperately needed—knowledge that could explain the Obsidian Circle, the Evermark, and Adrian's role in whatever cosmic game was unfolding around them.

Behind them, the valley slowly darkened as the ritual's residual energy seeped into the land, turning Elarala's garden of life into a garden of ash.