Morning in the guild brought with it an uneasy quiet, a kind of stillness that crept through stone halls like some form of ghost. Kiaran woke up to the ache of stone heavy against his chest, hidden beneath the coarse fabric of his tunic. It pulsed with a slow rhythm almost like a second heartbeat. The memory of the temple, the shadows, and the creature's dying wail still echoed through his mind. He compelled himself up, muscles stiff and aching, and splashed cold water on his face as he attempted to clear away the cobwebs of a restless night. He could feel the weight of the stone against his fingers as he dressed and get a spasm of warmth shoot up his arm; odd power was evident in it; one he could hardly understand. Shivering, Kiaran had no time to heed his feelings. Despite the tension and danger, he had to face the day. He hauled on his worn leather armor and went down to the guild hall, senses honed to watch every shadow, to listen for every whisper.

The hall, usually filled with raucous voices and clashing steel, was subdued. Conversations were hushed, eyes darted to and for, and a few guild members stood in tight clusters whispering words of urgency. Rumors had spread of a patrol's attack near the very ruins where Kiaran had faced the creature. Faces were grim, and the scent of fear mingled with the usual musk of sweat and smoke.

Kiaran ducked under the edges of the crowd, keeping his head down, and wished fervently he could just disappear into nothingness. Yet his desire for invisibility was bereft when Lysander Rune stepped into his way. A rival with an all-too-familiar expression—sharp, challenging, with a faint smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.

"Kiaran, out so early?" Lysander's voice was Mock casual, but his eyes gleamed with something darker. "Strange, isn't it? The attacks by the ruins…right where you were seen skulking around last night."

Kiaran forced a smile, though his jaw tightened. "I keep my own business, Lysander. You'd do well to mind yours."

Lysander's sneer grew wide, but he wasn't given the opportunity to respond before a shadow fell across both of them. Draven Caelum's voice came like a blade through the air. "Kiaran Voss. My office. Now.".

And the words themselves chilled Kiaran's spine. He turned to meet the eyes of the guild master, a man notorious for his merciless cruelty and strength. Dark cloak swirling, Draven strode through the hall, with Kiaran at his heels; a burning edge of Lysander's gaze cut across his back like a sword.

This was Draven's office, cold and intimidating, lined with trophies of slain creatures and forgotten relics. Old books and iron filled the air with the scent of victory that seemed connected with every victory achieved by the master of the guild. Kiaran gulped hard as he stood before this man, with weight after weight of each artifact falling heavily upon his body.

Draven leaned back in his chair, his eyes-cold and flickering-fixed on Kiaran. "Odd reports have come to my ears," he said, voice like the low growl of a beast. "Creatures popping into existence out of nowhere. Shadows writhing in unnatural ways. And you, Kiaran, seem to be frequenting the sites of these disturbances oftener than chance would dictate.".

Kiaran's palms were growing damp, but he kept his face smooth. "I don't know what you're talking about, sir. I took a mission from the board—an investigation near the ruins. I didn't find anything…strange."

Draven's lips curled into a humorless smile. "Is that so? You have no idea, then, about certain. Artifacts that might be found there? Objects of power, buried deep beneath those ancient stones?"

Now, Kiaran's heartbeat accelerates, but then he holds himself together to look into Draven's eyes. "If those things existed, I wouldn't have seen them."

For a moment the quiet between them grew heavy, and Kiaran had the queasy sensation that Draven was spilling over into the very thoughts themselves. But then the guild master relaxed back, dark amusement glimmering in his eyes. "Be careful, Kiaran," he said. "The ruins have secrets best left alone, and those who step beyond their station to seize power are apt to find themselves. Lost.".

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Kiaran nodded, but the warning coiled inside him like a snake. For in Draven's words, he felt a threat wrapped in veiled concern, and he knew then that the guild leader was far more dangerous than he'd imagined. As he left the office, the stone's warmth pressed against his chest; clenching it even tighter within his fingers he became even more determined to discover its secrets.

Kiaran pressed onward to the training grounds. His head was still reeling from the encounter. The ringing of metal on metal filled the air as adventurers tested their skills against one another, but the tension in the air had not yet begun to dissipate. He hardly acknowledged Eira Valen's arrival until she stepped into his line of sight, her expression a quiet concern.

Want to take care of a spar? she asked, her voice easy enough but her gaze probing at his face with a different kind of curiosity.

Kiaran nodded. A little distraction would be good; only for a couple of minutes was enough. They went to an open patch of dirt and retrieved wooden training blades. Kiaran and Eira started circling each other, both moving swift and precise. Kiaran drew with her, letting the rhythm of the fight drive away his thoughts of Draven and the stone.

As the metal of their blades clashed, Eira spoke in low tones, her words barely carrying over the sound of their sparring. "You've been acting strange, Kiaran. More withdrawn. And you've been avoiding questions. What happened out there?"

Kiaran deflected her strike, stepping back and trying to keep his face impassive. "Nothing that concerns you."

Eira's eyes flared with anger, and she pressed forward, pinning him on the defensive. "You can trust me, can't you? Whatever you're hiding is making things unsafe. I've heard the whispers, too."

He hesitated just long enough to let her strike have a chance to land before recoiling with a sweep of his blade. "I'm not hiding anything, Eira," he said. "Just. trying to stay out of trouble.".

She laughed, a bitter laugh, and disarmed him with a twist of her wrist. "You're terrible at lying, Kiaran. Just. be careful, all right? The guild is more dangerous than you think, especially now."

Kiaran rubbed his wrist where she'd struck, trying to mask the unease in his chest. "I can handle myself.

Eira's eyes lingered over him a moment longer, then she nodded and moved back. "I hope you can. But don't think you must do it alone."

And as she walked away, Kiaran couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, but he pushed it to the side. He couldn't afford to rely on anyone-not with the stone, not with what that could mean.

Evening falls upon the guild; the sun sank below the horizon, casting deep shadows across the floors. Kiaran finds himself pacing the halls, unable to shake the feeling that something is watching him from corners of the room. He catches pieces of conversations--talk of shadows moving like living things, of lights flickering near the dungeons where no torch burns.

He could feel no rhyme or reason to these disturbances; perhaps the stone was the source, and its power had spread beyond the ruin, touching the very air around the guild. The thought ran chills through him, yet he could not shake the compulsion to understand what he had found, to open up the secrets hidden in its depths.

Night started crawling over the horizon, and he retreated into his quarters to retrieve the stone. It had thin, faint pulsing across it with an occasional coating of pale blue glow. Kiaran studied runes glowing upon the stone-makings sense of the mixed patterns yet making no more than mere shifting like water under his steady gaze. Frustration within him grew as he clenched his fist on the stone.

Again, the ruins returned to him, all their details: the creature which had guarded it, the whispers that had ridden on the wind. And now it stood clear to him, all of a sudden, that he could not unlock its power from behind the safety of the guild. He had to go back to where he found it, to the place of its loudest whispers.

He knew it was a foolish move, but at the same time, he knew that Draven wouldn't rest upon mere words. If the guild master suspected him to be, it meant the clock was ticking. Kiaran tucked the stone into his pocket, feeling warmth spread throughout his body and began preparing himself for the journey back to the ruins.

That night, Kiaran lay in bed with his head garrulous with plans and incantations of fear; he listened to the wind whipping outside his window and heard each gust bearing the sound of some old voice stirring dark. Sleep did not come to him with stone settled against his chest and shadows dancing wildly across the contours of his bedroom.

Just as he shut his eyes, a shadow moved outside his window. Kiaran's hand rose to the hilt of his sword, but he froze when he saw who waited there. Selene stood under the moon's spell, the dark of her cloak bleeding into night like a ghost. Her face was nothing if not unreadable as ever, yet there could be something unnamed in that glinting eyes lighted.

Kiaran pushed open the window, and her voice came in, almost as faint as the wind. "You walk perilous roads, Kiaran Voss. The ruins hold more than darkness. Be prepared for what you find.".

She disappeared into the night, leaving only an echo of her words behind. He gazed out into the darkness where she disappeared. Kiaran's resolve was all the harder for it. He would return to the ruins. And this time, he would be prepared for whatever came his way.