After a week of travel, The Gloamfields loomed ahead, a sprawling nightmare of gnarled trees and twisting shadows. Its black mist coiled outward like tendrils of a living creature, suffocating everything they touched. Even from the crest of the hill, Asher could feel it—a malevolent presence gnawing at the edges of his mind.
“This is it,” Aetheros whispered in his mind, her voice steady but solemn. “Over this hill lies your first glimpse of what remains for my people. Treat them with care, Asher. They’ve suffered much and trust little. And remember, speaking of me openly will bring suspicion—or worse.”
“I don’t go looking for trouble,” Asher replied dryly, his voice edged with sarcasm. “It just tends to find me anyway.”
He descended the hill, Duskwatch unfolding before him. The settlement huddled at the edge of the cursed forest, its ramshackle buildings warped and weathered as though the shadows had clawed at them. At the center of the village stood a massive lantern, its golden light casting long beams into the mist, holding the encroaching darkness at bay.
The villagers in the square moved like ghosts, their faces gaunt, their shoulders hunched. Whispers carried on the air, blending with the ever-present hum of the forest. Asher passed through, his boots echoing on the cobblestones, and slowly the square fell silent.
A woman stepped forward. Her braided hair shimmered with streaks of silver, and glowing runes adorned her skin. She raised her staff, and her voice rang out:
"I am the voice of what once was,
A keeper of whispers, a teller of flaws.
I dwell where light and shadow meet,
And guide the lost on unsteady feet.
You seek a path through pain untold,
But will you find iron, or will you fold?"
Asher’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the woman. Her words were calm, but their weight struck him like a hammer. He stepped forward, his boots crunching against the cracked stones.
“What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “Everywhere I go, someone’s got a cryptic answer, a hidden agenda, or a demand I didn’t ask for. You clearly know something about me—fine. But stop dancing around it. Why is everyone so damn interested in a broken man with a knife and a death wish?”
The woman tilted her head, her faint, knowing smile brushing her lips. She leaned heavily on her staff, the carved symbols along its length flickering faintly.
“What I want? thats a complicated question... first my name is Brynn. I am the elder of the ranshackle town" she echoed, her voice soft yet layered with meaning. “And Perhaps I want same as you. To keep moving forward, though the shadows claw at our heels and the light ahead feels distant.”
Her clouded eyes locked onto his, sharp despite their misty depths. “You walk with power beside you, though its light flickers weakly. Aetheros... she risks much binding herself to you. Do you even know why?”
Asher’s jaw tightened. “You seem to know a lot. How do you know about Aetheros and why would you expose her so brazenly!?"
The faint glow along her staff pulsed as she took a step closer. “I didnt expose her, the words I am speaking are only echoed in your mind, the Veins whisper to those who listen. Your past clings to you like frost on a dying leaf. Your pain bleeds into the currents that bind this world. Whether you choose to see it or not, the darkness has already taken notice of you.”
Before Asher could respond, a piercing scream erupted from the edge of the forest.
The trees groaned, their twisted forms shuddering as waves of shadows poured forth from the Gloamfields like a tide of living darkness.
Screams erupted. Villagers scrambled in all directions, trampling each other as they fled toward the lantern’s glow. The shadows crashed against the barrier, the golden light flaring brilliantly for a moment before cracks began to splinter across its surface.
Brynn’s voice was sharp and commanding. “The lantern is faltering! Its light draws from the Veins below, but the flow is unstable. If it fails, we all die.”
Asher turned to the fleeing crowd and bellowed, “Stop running! If you want to live, you’ll have to fight!”
The panic momentarily abated as villagers froze, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes. He raised his dagger high, its faint Aetheric glow flaring brighter as if responding to his resolve.
“Listen to me!” he shouted. “I know you’re scared. I am too. But running won’t save you. Those things will hunt you down like animals unless we stop them here. Together.”
A grizzled man stepped forward, his halberd clutched in trembling hands. “They’ll kill us all.”
“Not if we kill them first,” Asher growled. “We’re not helpless. That lantern gives us a chance. I’ll fight for you. Will you fight with me?”
A moment of silence passed, heavy and uncertain. Then, a young woman stepped forward, her bow held tight in shaking hands. “For Duskwatch!” she cried.
“For Duskwatch!” others echoed, voices shaky but growing.
The shadows slammed into the barrier again, the cracks spreading wider. With a roar, Asher charged forward, the villagers rallying behind him.
The first shadow lunged, its twisted form writhing as it lashed out with tendrils of darkness. Asher’s dagger cut through it cleanly, the Aether-infused blade disintegrating its corrupted flesh. But for every shadow he struck down, three more surged forward.
The halberd-wielding man swung his weapon in a wide arc, cleaving through one shadow only to be struck from behind. The creature’s claws sank into his back, ripping through flesh with a sickening crunch. He screamed as he fell, blood pooling beneath him.
Nearby, the young archer loosed arrows as fast as her trembling hands could draw. One arrow pierced a shadow’s head, its form dissolving into mist. But another tendril wrapped around her leg, yanking her off her feet. She screamed as it dragged her toward the forest, her cries cutting off abruptly.
A middle-aged woman armed with a rusted sword slashed at a shadow, severing its tendril. But another creature lunged at her, its clawed hand sinking into her chest and ripping through bone. She collapsed in a heap, her lifeless eyes staring at nothing.
“Asher!” Aetheros’s voice rang in his mind, urgent and fierce. “Hold the line!”
Gritting his teeth, Asher pressed forward. The dagger felt alive in his hand, each strike sending ripples of Aetheric light through the shadows. Around him, the villagers fought with desperate fury—axes, spears, and makeshift weapons clashing against the tide.
A hulking figure emerged from the mist, its form vaguely humanoid but grotesquely distorted. It swung a massive arm, sending three villagers flying like ragdolls. Asher lunged at it, his blade biting deep into its shoulder.
The creature roared, black ichor spraying as it swatted him aside. He hit the ground hard, his vision blurring.
Asher looks back to Brynn and sees The barrier flickering dangerously, its golden light dimming more and more by the second. More cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, and Brynn’s voice cut through the din. “We’re out of time! Asher, do something!”
“I’m out of options!” he shouted back, his chest heaving.
Asher turned inward, desperation clawing at him as he spoke to Aetheros.
“Can I channel the Vein below us? What happens if I fail?”
Her voice trembled, but it was steady. “It’s dangerous. The Aether beneath us is corrupted—raw and unstable. If you fail, it could consume you. But if we do nothing, the barrier will fall, and everyone here will die.”
The ground beneath his feet thrummed faintly as he reached out, seeking the connection. The hum grew louder in his mind, a pulsating rhythm that felt chaotic, alive.
When Asher Grasped the connection between Aetheros and himself to attempt to connect the underground Aether Vein , the surge was instant and overwhelming. It was like grabbing a live wire with bare hands, a flood of raw energy that tore through him, setting every nerve aflame. His body seized as he struggled to contain it.
“It’s too much!” he shouted aloud, his voice a mix of pain and panic.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Focus!” Aetheros’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “Guide it. Don’t fight it—move with it. Aether flows like a river. Let it pass through you, not against you.”
Asher gritted his teeth, forcing himself to calm his frantic thoughts. The energy within him writhed and squirmed, a living storm of fire and light. Slowly, he shifted his approach, no longer wrestling with it but coaxing it forward.
But as he descended deeper with his new aether appendage, past the crust and into the molten layers below, he felt something else—something alien. The Vein pulsed in his mind’s eye, a shimmering river of energy, but corruption clung to its edges like a malignant growth, dark tendrils snaking outward and spiraling through the flow. The tendrils writhed, coiling toward him with a mindless hunger, and then it hit him: an overwhelming sense of intent.
Consume.
The word reverberated in his mind, a whisper at first but growing louder with every second. He gasped, staggering under the weight of it. The corruption seemed alive, pulsating with malevolence. It sought to devour everything—light, life, and purpose—all reduced to nothingness.
“There has to be more,” he murmured desperately. He clung to the thought as if it were a lifeline, fighting to find some reason behind the chaos, some motive for its destruction. “Why does it do this? Why... anything?”
“There is no reason,” Aetheros responded, her voice calm but tinged with sorrow. “No love. No logic. No compassion. It is a parasite that exists only to consume and grow. Like a fungal rot spreading through a host, it will never stop until all is devoured.”
The corruption’s tendrils pressed against his will, and for a moment, Asher faltered. His grip on the Aether wavered, the raw energy spiraling dangerously as the malevolence surged closer.
“Asher!” Aetheros’s voice cut sharply through the chaos, her tone commanding yet steady. “You must fight it—don’t let it in! Focus on the light. Remember why you’re here.”
His teeth clenched, the strain threatening to unmake him as he wrestled with the wild torrent of Aether. But the corruption’s pull was relentless, its tendrils coiling like smoke around his connection to the Vein. Doubt crept into his thoughts, an insidious whisper that chipped away at his resolve.
Then, another presence flared beside him, brilliant and golden—a light that surged against the darkness. Brynn’s voice rang out, fierce and unwavering. “You’re not alone, Asher! Hold steady—I’ll lend you my strength.”
Through the bond, Asher felt Brynn’s power intertwining with his own, a stabilizing force that surged against the corruption. The golden tendrils of her magic wove around his connection to the Vein, fortifying it, bracing it against the encroaching darkness. But the sensation cut deep—it wasn’t just her magic, it was her very essence.
It felt like she had wrapped herself around his soul, her presence weaving through every crack in his defenses, reaching places he had thought sealed forever. The intimacy of it was staggering, not just because it laid him bare in a way that terrified him, but because it felt like a betrayal. Memories of his daughter— her light—flashed in his mind with cruel clarity. Somewhere deep inside, a voice whispered that allowing anyone this close was wrong, that sharing any kind of bond, no matter how necessary, was a betrayal of her memory.
The guilt twisted in his chest like a dagger, sharp and unrelenting, threatening to shatter his concentration. How could he fight alongside Brynn, let alone lean on her strength, while his daughter lay forgotten, rotting in the cold embrace of death? The thought of finding solace, even fleetingly, while she was gone made him feel disgusting, as if happiness itself were a crime. He knew the feeling was irrational, but it didn’t matter—he couldn’t escape it, just as he hadn’t been able to when Aetheros had first bonded to him.
It wasn’t just the act of intimacy that tore at him; it was what it symbolized. A world moving on while his heart refused to heal. It felt like a betrayal of everything he had lost, and he loathed himself for being too weak to reject it entirely.
Asher clenched his jaw, his grip on the Vein trembling under the weight of his discomfort, his mind screaming at him to sever the bond before it fractured something inside him that he wasn’t sure he could mend.
But then his eyes flicked to the villagers. Huddled together, their faces pale and haunted, they clung to scraps of hope with trembling hands. Parents shielded their children, who stared wide-eyed at the creeping shadows. These people—fragile and terrified—depended on him.
The sight struck him like a hammer, shattering the barriers of his unease. Guilt twisted into resolve, hardening his will. Brynn’s magic wasn’t an intrusion—it was salvation, a shared burden that kept them both from breaking under the strain. He pushed past the discomfort, past the raw and exposed feeling of the bond, and clung to the purpose driving him.
Asher gritted his teeth, forcing his focus onto the Vein. He redoubled his efforts, his will burning brighter as he and Brynn pushed back against the corruption. Inch by agonizing inch, they forced it to retreat, the suffocating darkness breaking apart like smoke in the wind.
Then, something even greater unfolded.
Aetheros’s presence surged within him, a vast and incomprehensible force. The lantern pulsed with her light as she guided the flow of energy. Her voice was low and resonant, like a hymn echoing through eternity. “Hold steady, Asher. I will guide the Vein’s power.”
Before his eyes, Aetheros’s influence took form. Tendrils of pure light extended from her, shimmering with celestial grace. They moved with impossible precision, each strand wrapping delicately around the raw Aether like threads spun from the heavens. Millions of strands coiled together, forming intricate paths so beautiful and complex that Asher’s mind couldn’t fully grasp them.
The sight was awe-inspiring, a celestial tapestry of energy flowing into shape. It was as if Aetheros’s were forging a second limb of Aether, a radiant construct that worked alongside Asher’s own efforts to hold the corruption at bay. The strands pulsed with rhythm and light, weaving together in a dance of divine artistry that seemed to defy reality itself.
Sweat dripped from his brow, his muscles trembling as he guided the Vein’s energy upward, threading it through the pathways Aetheros created. The corruption clawed at the edges of their combined will, a relentless tide of darkness, but with Brynn’s strength beside him and Atheros's impossible precision leading the way, they held.
For now, they held.
And though Asher’s heart ached with the weight of his guilt and unease, he forced himself to focus. The villagers needed him. They all needed him.
No matter what it cost, he would not fail them. The Vein roared as the purified energy surged toward the lantern. The tendrils of corruption recoiled, retreating into the depths like wounded beasts, and the golden light of the Aether blazed brighter.
The lantern erupted with a pillar of radiance, piercing the heavens and sweeping across the settlement. Shadows shrieked and dissolved, their forms reduced to nothing as the light obliterated them.
Exhausted, Asher collapsed to the ground. His chest heaved, his body wracked with pain, but the barrier solidified, and the village stood safe.
“You did it,” Brynn said, her voice shaky but relieved. Her staff’s light dimmed, and she swayed on her feet, visibly drained.
Asher collapsed, his body wracked with pain. The Aether had burned through him, tearing him apart and rebuilding him at a level he couldn’t yet comprehend. Somewhere deep within, he felt it—something had changed.
Above him, Aetheros’s voice was faint, trembling with strain. “Stay with me, Asher. Please.”
Above him, Aetheros’s voice trembled, her presence fading into the void. Asher’s vision blurred, and just before the darkness consumed him, he felt it—a shift, vast and unknowable, stirring deep within.