The sun had begun to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across Thornwood as Edrik emerged from the keep. The village was still eerily silent, the kind of silence that only comes before a storm. His mind raced, replaying the voice that had whispered to him in the dark hall, its chilling words echoing in his ears.

He had no doubt about what had happened—his soul had been stolen, ripped from him by some dark sorcery. But why? And by whom? The answers to those questions were as elusive as the shadowy figure that had disappeared before him.

As he walked back down the steps of the keep, his thoughts turned to Kara. She had been the only constant in his life after their family was destroyed, the one person he had allowed himself to care for. His need to protect her was the one thing that had kept him from completely losing himself to vengeance.

He found her in their modest home on the edge of the village, tending to the hearth with her usual quiet efficiency. The small cottage was a far cry from the grand halls they had once called home, but Kara had made it warm and welcoming, a stark contrast to the coldness that had taken root in Edrik’s heart.

“Edrik!” Kara’s face lit up as she saw him, her green eyes sparkling with a mixture of relief and joy. She rushed over and embraced him, her small frame dwarfed by his tall, imposing figure. “You’re back! I wasn’t expecting you for another week.”

Edrik returned the embrace, feeling the tension in his body ease slightly in her presence. Kara had always had that effect on him, her warmth cutting through the darkness that threatened to consume him. He held her a moment longer than usual, taking comfort in the familiarity of her touch, before pulling back to look at her.

“I had to cut my trip short,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Something…happened.”

Kara’s brow furrowed as she looked up at him, sensing the unease that he was trying to hide. “What do you mean? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Edrik replied, though the words felt hollow. “But the village… something’s wrong, Kara. It’s too quiet.”

Kara glanced toward the window, her expression turning serious. “I’ve noticed it too. People have been staying inside more and more lately. There have been whispers, rumors of strange things happening in the woods. I didn’t want to worry you, so I didn’t mention it in my letters.”

Edrik frowned, the unease in his chest deepening. “What kind of strange things?”

“People disappearing, mostly. And there’s been talk of shadows moving on their own, of voices in the night. Old man Darien swears he saw a creature with glowing eyes near his farm last week, though most people think he’s just losing his mind.” Kara’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But I’ve felt it too, Edrik. There’s something dark in the air, something that wasn’t here before.”

Edrik’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword. “I need to investigate. If what you’re saying is true, then whatever it is could be connected to what happened at the keep.”

Kara grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so small. “No, Edrik. You’ve been fighting for so long, and it’s taken so much from you. You need to rest, to heal. Let the village guards handle it.”

Edrik looked down at her, his heart aching at the concern in her eyes. But he knew there was no rest for him, not until he had his soul back. He gently pried her fingers from his arm and cupped her face in his hands.

“I can’t, Kara. This is something I have to do. But I promise I’ll be careful.”

Kara bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. “Just…come back to me, alright? I’ve already lost too much. I can’t lose you too.”

“I’ll come back,” Edrik assured her, though he couldn’t bring himself to promise more than that. He kissed her forehead and turned to leave, but Kara caught his arm again, this time with a different kind of urgency.

“Edrik, wait. There’s something else—someone else. A woman arrived in the village a few days ago. She’s… different. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like she’s important somehow. She’s staying at the inn. Maybe you should talk to her before you go.”

Edrik raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

Kara hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s like she doesn’t quite belong here. She knows things, things about the old magic. I saw her heal a child’s broken leg with nothing but a touch. And she’s been asking about you.”

Edrik’s interest was piqued, though he remained wary. He had encountered many people who claimed to know about the old magic, most of them charlatans or worse. But if what Kara said was true, then this woman might be able to help him.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“I’ll see her,” Edrik said, nodding. “Thank you, Kara. Stay inside tonight, and keep the doors locked. I don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, but I don’t want you taking any chances.”

Kara nodded, her expression solemn. “Be careful, Edrik. Please.”

Edrik gave her one last reassuring smile before stepping out into the night. The village was still unnervingly quiet, the only sound the soft crunch of gravel under his boots as he made his way to the inn. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made his skin prickle and his senses sharpen.

The inn was a modest building, its warm glow a stark contrast to the darkness outside. Edrik pushed open the door and stepped inside, the familiar smells of roasting meat and spiced ale filling his nostrils. The innkeeper, a portly man with a bushy beard, looked up from behind the bar and nodded in greeting.

“Evening, Edrik,” the innkeeper said, wiping his hands on a stained apron. “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon. What brings you here tonight?”

“I’m looking for a woman,” Edrik replied, his tone blunt. “I hear she’s been staying here. Silver hair, blue eyes. Goes by the name Lyra.”

The innkeeper’s eyes widened slightly, and he glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening. “Aye, she’s here. Strange one, that. Keeps to herself mostly, but there’s something about her that gives me the shivers. She’s in the corner, by the fire.”

Edrik followed the innkeeper’s gaze to a secluded table near the hearth. A woman sat there, her back to him, her long silver hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of moonlight. She was dressed in simple, travel-worn clothes, but there was an air of quiet power about her that made her stand out from the rest of the patrons.

Edrik approached the table, his footsteps silent on the wooden floor. As he neared, the woman turned her head slightly, as if sensing his presence. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, Edrik felt as though she could see straight into his soul—what little of it was left, anyway.

“Edrik Thornwood,” she said, her voice soft yet commanding. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Edrik didn’t sit down, his body tense with suspicion. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled, a small, enigmatic curve of her lips. “My name is Lyra Windrider. I come from a place far from here, a place where the old magic is still known and feared. I have been searching for you, Edrik, because I believe our fates are intertwined.”

Edrik’s eyes narrowed. “You know about the old magic?”

“I do,” Lyra replied, her gaze unwavering. “And I know that your soul has been stolen, taken by a force darker than anything you’ve faced before. If you do not retrieve it soon, you will lose yourself completely. You will become a husk, a shell of the man you once were.”

Edrik’s breath caught in his throat, a cold dread settling in his stomach. “How do you know that?”

“Because I have seen it,” Lyra said, her voice laced with an edge of sorrow. “I have seen what happens to those who lose their souls. It is a fate worse than death, Edrik. But there is still hope. If you come with me, I can help you get it back.”

Edrik studied her for a long moment, weighing his options. Everything about this woman screamed danger—she was a stranger, one who knew too much and spoke of things that should have been impossible to know. But the desperation in her eyes was real, as was the cold certainty in her voice.

“If you’re lying to me,” Edrik said, his voice low and dangerous, “I will kill you.”

Lyra nodded, unflinching. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, Edrik took a seat across from her, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice hard. “Start from the beginning.”

Lyra’s expression softened, and she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It began long before you were born, before the kingdom of Eldra was even a whisper on the wind. There was a time when magic was as common as the air we breathe, when the world was filled with wonders and terrors beyond imagination. But that time ended, and the magic was sealed away, hidden from the world to protect it. But the seals are weakening, Edrik. The magic is returning, and with it, the darkness that was once banished.”

Edrik listened intently, his mind racing to process what she was saying. “And what does this have to do with me?”

“Because you, Edrik Thornwood, are one of the last remnants of that ancient bloodline, a bloodline that has the power to control the magic. Thorne, the one who stole your soul, knows this. He seeks to use your power for his own ends, to break the seals completely and unleash the darkness upon the world.”

Edrik’s heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear and anger surging through him. “Why me? Why now?”

“Because your bloodline is special, Edrik,” Lyra said, her eyes burning with intensity. “You have the power to either save this world or destroy it. That is why Thorne chose you. He knew that by taking your soul, he could bend you to his will, use you as a weapon in his quest for dominion.”

Edrik clenched his fists, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a physical force. “And how do I stop him?”

Lyra reached across the table and placed her hand on his, her touch warm and grounding. “You don’t have to do this alone, Edrik. I can guide you, help you unlock the power within you. Together, we can defeat Thorne and take back what is yours. But it will not be easy. The path ahead is fraught with danger, and you will face trials that will test you to your very limits.”

Edrik stared at her, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Part of him wanted to refuse, to walk away and deal with Thorne on his own terms. But another part of him, the part that had felt so empty and lost since his soul was stolen, knew that he needed her help.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice steady. “I’ll go with you. But understand this—I’m not doing this for the world, or for some ancient prophecy. I’m doing this to get my soul back. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Lyra nodded, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. “That’s all I ask.”

As they left the inn together, the weight of the journey ahead pressed down on Edrik’s shoulders. But for the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of hope. It was faint, barely more than a spark, but it was enough to keep him moving forward.

He would get his soul back. And if it meant tearing through the very fabric of the world to do it, then so be it.