Under the cover of huddling pre-dawn darkness, Kiaran slipped back into the guild, his breaths shallow and jagged. The weight of the vision inside the ruins clung to his mind like a dark fog that never seemed to lift. He kept moving through the shadows, hugging the narrow alleys between the outer quarters of the guild, avoiding the scattered few who rose early. The stone was pressed against his side, hidden away in folds of his cloak, radiating a faint, almost comforting warmth that contrasted the chill in his bones.

He reached his room unnoticed and shut the door with a muffled thud. Kiaran's hand trembled as he reached for the small table near the bed, where Eira's note lay, untouched since his hasty departure. Her handwriting had become familiar to him, but not anymore. Now, letters seemed penned by some stranger. When he sat on the edge of the cot, the darkness was scarce alive to the horror that went through his mind from the happenings of the previous night: Selene's warning, a shadow creature, and the vision of war that seemed to bleed into the everyday. As sleep began to drape him in a sepulcher of exhaustion, thoughts swirled in his head into a restless slumber.

He woke to the sound of footsteps outside his door, then silence, and again another knock. Kiaran tensed, hand drifting toward his sword. But the door creaked open and showed the shadowy outline of Eira. Her face was tense, her eyes boring into him past the small patches of dim light that filtered through the room's narrow window.

Kiaran, she whispered, sliding in and closing the door behind her. Where were you last night? You disappeared, and I couldn’t get to you.

Kiaran stood, staring into her eyes but still not talking. The quiet seemed to pucker only Eira's lips. She moved forward, her voice raised above a whisper. You're acting irresponsibly. Draven already has his suspicions. He's been asking questions about you, and you disappear like this?

He collapsed back, smoothing his wildly tumbled hair. "I had to. attend to something," he said, his voice so low it was measured. "Not something I can share with you, Eira, not yet.".

Her eyes narrowed; pain scrawled across her face for the space of a heartbeat before she swallowed it back. "You're playing with fire, Kiaran. Draven isn't the kind to let secrets lie. If he feels you're holding something back which threatens the guild, he won't hesitate by so much as a second before he does something.".

Kiaran's jaw went tight on mention of the word Draven. "I can handle Draven," he muttered, though the words themselves even he couldn't really believe. He looked toward the window, where dim morning light crept in. "I found something, Eira. It is. dangerous, but possibly important.".

She took a deep breath and edged closer. "Whatever it is, you're not alone in this. Just-don't shut me out." She spoke softly, with an under tone that begged to be heard. Kiaran nodded, though his thoughts remained all tied up with the secrets of the stone and shadowed figures lurking in the corners of his mind.

That night, Kiaran slipped into troubled dreams. Shadows swirled around him, whispering snatches of an ancient war—the echoes of the vision in the ruins: figures locked in battle with powers that could shatter mountains, their faces misted, indistinct. The stone pulsed its blue glow to the beat of his heart, infusing his dreams with electric energy. He woke in darkness, sweat beading on his forehead, senses sharper than before.

Kiaran breathed fast, racing through his reflexes. Quicker he moved, stronger he was. But it had an imbalance to it, a raw current crackling down under his skin. He flexed his hands, feeling the strange energy flow pulsing through his veins, and a shiver of fear and excitement flared through him. He couldn't dismiss what the stone was doing to him-but he couldn't let it consume him, either.

The next day, it was a summons from Draven to Kiaran's chambers. The dim air seemed heavy with unspoken threats, and Kiaran found himself entering the darkened room where Draven waited behind a vast oak desk. The face of the guild leader wore a mask of icy calculation, eyes boring into Kiaran like a predator sizing up its prey.

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"Kiaran," Draven said, his tone smooth but laced with a dangerous edge. "It seems you've been keeping yourself busy. Venturing out alone, speaking with unsavory figures. It makes one wonder where your true loyalties lie."

Kiaran forced himself to remain calm, meeting Draven's gaze head-on. "I'm loyal to the guild," he said evenly, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue.

Draven's smile was slender as a blade drawn just beneath the skin. "Good," he said. "Then you won't mind proving that loyalty." He slid rolled parchment across the desk, its seal bearing the emblem of the guild. "There is a mission—a dangerous one. Retrieval of a certain artifact from a dungeon at the kingdom's edge. Only the bold return from this place. if they return at all.".

Kiaran reached for the parchment, unrolling it to scan the contents. His stomach churned as he read what the mission was-all deadly dungeon into which lost souls had disappeared, and none had returned to tell the tale of what lay in its unknown depths. But to Kiaran, something was much more terrifying-the name next to his: Lysander Rune. That the man even existed was enough to tell Kiaran that his brother was taking no chances.

"This mission will test your worth, Kiaran," Draven said, his voice like ice. "If you succeed, perhaps it will silence the whispers about you. Fail, and—well, the guild will know where your true loyalties lie."

Kiaran balled his hands into fists, realizing that the trap lay within the words of the offer. If he refused, then Draven would paint him as a traitor; if he agreed, he'd be strolling into what could be a death sentence. He couldn't reveal his fear, however. He nodded and then slid the parchment into his belt. "I'll prove myself."

"The smile of his spread wider, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes. "I knew you'd see reason.".

Outside Draven's chamber, Eira waited for him, her face taut as she watched his face. "What did he say?" she asked, hardly keeping the anxiety out of her voice.

She let him give her the mission paper, scanning the details across it. Her face fell into shadow as she read. "He's sending you to that dungeon?" she whispered, the words weighted in dread. "No one comes back from there, Kiaran. This isn't a test—is a death sentence.".

"I know," he said softly, scanning the air as if listening for some hidden ear that might catch his words. "That's why I need your help. Draven wants to see me fail, or worse. But if I'm prepared, if we use this mission to our advantage."

Eira's brow furrowed, but she nodded slowly. "I'll gather information. Supplies. Whatever I can find to help you. But be careful, Kiaran. You're walking a fine line."

He reached out and his fingertips caressed her arm. "Thanks, Eira," he said. "I won't forget this."

The days that followed were full of preparation. Kiaran trained with no respite, forcing himself to limits beyond his endurance as he readapted to the power coursing through him. He practiced alone, feeling raw energy course through each strike and movement. Yet with each use, he could sense the stone's influence gaining strength, whispering promises of greater power.

With Eira by his side, passing him maps of the dungeon layout and rumors she heard from around the guild, they forged a loose plan to uncover what lay beneath the dungeon's depths, at least avoiding Draven's machinations along the way.

But with Lysander by his side, he was a constant thorn, always there, his words and actions laced with barely concealed hostility, each seeing the other as an obstacle. It only stoked Kiaran's confidence-the smug arrogance that gave him the edge he sought over others. He would not lose-but not to Lysander, not to Draven, and certainly not to the shadows that hunted him down.

The gates of the guild hung behind them as Kiaran, Lysander and a handful of adventurers rode out into the cool crisp air scented with the fall of autumn holding hints of colder days to come. His face held down, away from the rising sun, Kiaran felt, through his leather vest, the stone pulse against his side as he stepped over the threshold, turning his back on the warm comfort of their guild.

Lysander stepped forward, tall and confident in himself as he barked orders out to the group. Kiaran remained at the back, mind churning with thoughts of the stone and the shadows that seemed to grow thicker the closer they drew to the dungeon.

As he walked, Kiaran felt, beyond the edge of the woods, a moving dark presence. It whispered past the wind curling around his thoughts, and curled up like a snake. He gritted his jaw against its efforts to claim him. Whatever awaited them down in the dungeon he would see it coming with his eyes wide open.

The stone vibrated in his hand with some otherworldly energy as they approached their destination, a discordant beat that reflected the growing unease in his chest. Kiaran glanced back once at the guild, his chest cooling with every step forward. This was the mission that would tip everything one way or another; he'd walk out of it stronger, or he'd be destroyed by the darkness that seemed to press in around him.

And when the sun was going down and shadow reached darkening, Kiaran prepared himself for the upcoming trials since it was only a matter of time before the strongest in heart might survive what was beyond.