The final day of their journey to Forest Star Village began with promising signs. The weather held clear, the forest paths remained free of the magical traps that had plagued them earlier, and they made good time through increasingly gentle terrain. By midday, Carl announced they would reach the village before dusk.

"The repository is housed in the old temple at the village center," he explained as they paused for a brief meal. "It's maintained by a small circle of scholars, descendants of those who served the Silver Covenant."

"Will they grant us access?" Adrian asked, breaking off a piece of hard travel bread.

"They will," Elarala assured him. "I've visited before, though it was many years ago. The keepers of the repository understand its purpose—to preserve knowledge for those who would use it to protect the world."

Adrian nodded, trying to ignore the growing discomfort in his chest. Since morning, the Evermark had been unusually warm, occasionally flaring with sharp pulses of heat that demanded his attention. He had said nothing to his companions, unwilling to cause concern when they were so close to their destination, but the sensation was becoming harder to disregard.

As they crested a low hill in the early afternoon, Carl pointed to the valley beyond. "There. Forest Star Village."

Adrian shaded his eyes, gazing down at their destination. The village was larger than he had expected—several dozen buildings arranged in concentric circles around what appeared to be a stone temple or meeting hall. The entire settlement was nestled in a natural depression, surrounded by dense forest on three sides and bordered by a small river on the fourth.

But something about the view triggered an immediate sense of unease in Adrian. The village seemed... muted somehow, as if viewed through smoke or dark glass.

"Do you see that?" he asked, voice low. "The shadow over the village?"

Carl squinted. "I see nothing unusual."

"I sense it," Elarala said quietly. "A disturbance in the natural energy. Not visible to ordinary sight, perhaps, but present nonetheless."

Adrian focused more intently. The shadowy effect wasn't uniform—it moved subtly, like tendrils of mist drifting over the village, occasionally thickening in certain areas before dispersing again. As he concentrated, the Evermark responded with a sudden, sharp stab of pain that made him wince.

"Your mark is reacting to it," Elarala observed, noticing his discomfort.

"Yes," Adrian admitted, pressing his hand against his chest. "It's been growing more pronounced as we approach. What is it?"

Elarala turned her blind gaze toward the village, her expression deeply troubled. "I'm not certain. Something old. A spell of concealment, perhaps, or warding. But perverted from its original purpose."

"Is it dangerous?" Carl asked, automatically checking his crossbow.

"Not immediately, I think," Elarala replied. "But we should proceed with caution."

They descended toward the village, each lost in their own thoughts. Adrian found himself instinctively shifting into a soldier's mindset—assessing approaches, noting potential threats, planning escape routes. The Evermark's discomfort had settled into a persistent, dull ache that seemed to intensify with each step toward the village.

As they approached the outskirts, they encountered the first villagers—a small group of men returning from the fields with tools slung over their shoulders. Adrian was struck by their demeanor: heads down, moving quickly, eyes darting nervously in all directions. When they noticed the three travelers, they visibly tensed, some gripping their tools more tightly while others quickened their pace.

"Good day," Carl called out, his tone deliberately casual. "We're travelers seeking lodging in Forest Star."

One of the men—older than the others, with a deeply lined face—stepped slightly forward. "Inn's on the east side," he said curtly. "Follow the main path, can't miss it." Without waiting for a response, he hurried his companions along, giving the travelers a wide berth.

"Not the friendliest welcome," Adrian murmured once they had passed.

"They're afraid," Carl observed. "Did you notice how they kept looking at the shadows?"

Adrian hadn't, but now that Carl mentioned it, he recalled the men's nervous glances toward the deeper pools of shade between buildings and under trees. "You think they can sense what we're seeing?"

"They feel its effects, even if they don't understand the cause," Elarala said. "Fear changes people, makes them suspicious, insular."

They continued into the village proper, following the main path as directed. Adrian's discomfort grew with each step. The shadowy effect he had observed from the hill was even more pronounced up close—dark tendrils that seemed to writhe just at the edge of visibility, concentrated most heavily around certain buildings and alleyways.

The Evermark reacted strongly now, painful pulses synchronizing with his heartbeat. Adrian found himself having to consciously focus on controlling his breathing and maintaining a normal walking pace.

The village itself would have been picturesque under other circumstances. Well-built wooden houses with steep-pitched roofs lined cobblestone streets, while the impressive stone temple rose from the center, its spire reaching skyward. Small gardens filled the spaces between dwellings, and the sound of the nearby river provided a pleasant background murmur.

But the people told a different story. Everyone they passed moved with the same hurried, nervous energy they had observed in the field workers. Conversations ceased abruptly when the strangers approached. Children were quickly ushered indoors. Doors closed and shutters pulled tight despite the pleasant weather.

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"Something has this village terrified," Carl whispered as they turned onto a wider street lined with shops and trading stalls.

Even the marketplace, which should have been a hub of activity, felt subdued. Traders called out their wares without enthusiasm, while customers conducted their business quickly and departed. No one lingered to gossip or haggle as would be customary in a healthy village market.

A group of armed men stood at the far end of the market square, watching all activity with grim expressions. Their weapons and leather armor marked them as the village militia rather than professional soldiers, but they carried themselves with the alertness of men expecting trouble at any moment.

"The guard has been strengthened," Elarala noted. "Far more than a village this size would normally maintain."

They located the inn without difficulty—a three-story building with a weathered sign depicting a tree and star. Inside, the common room was nearly empty despite the approaching dinner hour, with only a few patrons hunched over their drinks in separate corners.

The innkeeper, a stout woman with prematurely gray hair, assessed them with open suspicion as they approached her counter.

"We need two rooms," Carl said, placing a few silver coins on the scarred wooden surface. "And a hot meal, if available."

The woman's gaze lingered on Elarala's blind eyes and silver hair before shifting to Adrian with an even sharper scrutiny. "Passing through, or staying?"

"We have business with the repository," Carl replied evenly.

At this, the woman's expression tightened. "Temple's closed to visitors. Has been for a fortnight now."

"Closed?" Elarala sounded genuinely surprised. "By whose authority?"

"Elder Council's orders," the woman replied. "After what happened to Archivist Thorn."

Adrian exchanged glances with Carl. "What happened to the archivist?" he asked carefully.

The innkeeper glanced around the nearly empty room before leaning forward slightly. "Found him in the archives three weeks ago," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "White as ash, eyes wide open, but seeing nothing. Breathing, heart beating, but... empty inside. Like his soul had been scooped out."

Adrian felt a cold certainty settle in his gut. "And when did the shadows first appear?"

The woman jerked back as if struck. "What do you know of shadows?" she demanded, suddenly hostile.

"Peace," Elarala said, her calm voice cutting through the tension. "We mean no harm. We've come to help, if we can."

The innkeeper studied them a moment longer, conflict evident in her expression. Finally, she snatched up the coins Carl had placed on the counter. "Rooms at the top of the stairs, first two on the left. Meal's served at sunset. And a word of advice—don't mention shadows to anyone else. Not if you want to wake up tomorrow."

With that cryptic warning, she turned away to attend to other tasks, effectively dismissing them.

Their rooms were small but clean, with narrow beds and simple furnishings. After depositing their packs, they gathered in the slightly larger of the two chambers to discuss their next steps.

"The repository being closed complicates matters," Carl said, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. The journey had clearly taken its toll on the older man, though he would never admit as much.

"More concerning is the condition of the archivist," Elarala replied. "The symptoms described are consistent with a particular type of void working—a mind-drain ritual that extracts knowledge while leaving the victim physically intact but mentally destroyed."

Adrian paced the small confines of the room, trying to ignore the persistent pain from the Evermark. "So the Obsidian Circle has already been here, taken what they wanted from the archivist, and left these... shadows behind. But why? And what exactly are these shadows?"

Elarala sat perfectly still, her blind eyes staring at nothing. "I need to extend my perception more fully, to understand what we're facing. But doing so will make my presence known to whatever left this darkness here."

"Is that wise?" Carl asked. "If it's a trap—"

"We need information," she cut him off gently. "And time is not our ally here."

After a moment's consideration, Carl nodded reluctantly. "Adrian and I will guard you. What do you need?"

"Silence and space," she replied, moving to sit cross-legged on the floor. "And be prepared for... anything."

Adrian drew his sword, holding it unthreateningly but ready, while Carl positioned himself near the door, crossbow loaded. Elarala settled into her meditative posture, hands resting palm-up on her knees, back straight as a temple column.

For several minutes, nothing seemed to happen. Then Adrian noticed a subtle shimmer in the air around Elarala, like heat rising from sun-baked stone. The silver of her hair seemed to brighten, taking on an almost metallic luster. When she opened her eyes, they glowed with a soft inner light that somehow managed to be both radiant and deeply unsettling.

"I see it now," she whispered, her voice oddly doubled, as if two people were speaking in perfect unison. "The spell-web anchored at nine points throughout the village. Old magic, very old, but twisted to a new purpose."

The Evermark flared painfully in response to her words, and Adrian grimaced, pressing his hand against his chest. Elarala's glowing gaze snapped to him immediately.

"Your mark recognizes the pattern," she said. "It should—the original spell was crafted in the same era as the Evermarks themselves. A protection ward designed to shield a place of knowledge from those who would misuse it."

"But it's been corrupted?" Adrian guessed through gritted teeth.

"Inverted," Elarala corrected. "What once kept darkness out now keeps it in. What once repelled harm now contains it, concentrates it, directs it against the very people it was meant to protect."

"Can you dispel it?" Carl asked.

"Not alone, and not quickly," she replied. "The anchors are bound to physical objects scattered throughout the village—objects of significance that have been tainted. We would need to locate and cleanse each one to break the spell-web."

Her light began to fade, her voice returning to normal as she withdrew from her deeper awareness. "But there's something else," she added, sounding troubled. "Something at the center of the web, in the repository itself. Something that pulses with void energy, feeding the corruption."

Adrian sheathed his sword as Elarala's eyes returned to their normal unseeing state. "So we have two objectives," he summarized. "Gain access to the repository despite it being closed, and identify whatever void artifact is powering this corrupted ward."

"And do so without alerting whoever left it here," Carl added grimly. "If the Obsidian Circle has agents in the village..."

"They almost certainly do," Elarala confirmed. "The shadows themselves serve as their eyes and ears. We must assume our presence is already known, though perhaps not our purpose or nature."

Adrian moved to the window, carefully peering through a gap in the shutters. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the village—shadows that seemed to move with subtle independence from their sources, reaching like grasping fingers toward unwary passersby.

"The innkeeper said meals are served at sunset," he noted. "We should go down, listen to the local gossip, try to learn more about what's happened here."

"Agreed," Carl said. "But we should be cautious about what we reveal. If the shadows are watching..."

"I'll guide our conversation," Elarala assured him. "And Adrian, try to keep the Evermark contained. Its reaction to the corrupted spell-web makes you conspicuous."

Adrian nodded, though he wasn't certain how well he could control the mark's response to whatever dark influence permeated the village. The pain had subsided somewhat since they had stopped moving toward the center of town, but it remained a constant, uncomfortable presence.

As they prepared to descend for the evening meal, Adrian couldn't shake the feeling that they had walked into something far more dangerous than they had anticipated. The repository with its ancient knowledge was tantalizingly close, but now it seemed to sit at the center of a web of shadows—shadows that watched, and waited, and hungered.

The sun slipped below the horizon, and across Forest Star Village, darkness gathered with unnatural eagerness.