The final snows of winter had melted, leaving the ground damp and the air filled with the scent of thawing earth. The village stirred from its icy slumber, a small collection of stone and timber homes nestled in a valley bordered by a sprawling forest to the north and a gently winding river to the south.
Fields stretched beyond the village, their frost-rimed soil ready to be tilled. Further out, cattle grazed lazily on patches of grass that had begun to peek through the frost. The sound of the river rushing with the melted snows provided a gentle hum beneath the occasional chatter of villagers preparing for the season’s work.
For Leon, the season of renewal felt like an ending.
Standing outside the small home he had shared with his younger sister, Lyra, for as long as he could remember, he gazed down the road leading to the village center. The house was simple but sturdy, its timber walls weathered by countless winters. Smoke rose faintly from the stone chimney, the lingering warmth from the morning’s fire dissipating into the clear sky.
The events of the past year had brought Leon to this moment. During the summer, as was tradition, representatives from various guilds in the capital city of La’Hara had come to the village in search of young talent. For many, it was a chance to escape the monotony of rural life and find prosperity in the city. For Leon, it had been a lifeline.
But things hadn’t gone as planned.
The Adventurers’ Guild had flatly rejected him after he failed their physical trials. He remembered the embarrassment vividly: the grueling run he couldn’t finish, the weights he couldn’t lift, and the climbing test where his grip had faltered halfway up.
“You’re not cut out for this,” the proctor had said bluntly, handing him back his application.
The Crafting Guilds were no better. While his hands were quick, they weren’t steady enough for the intricate tasks required, and his lack of experience showed in every test. By the end of the recruitment week, Leon had felt like the world was closing in around him.
Then, a glimmer of hope.
One of the Alchemists’ Guild recruiters, a sharp-eyed man with streaks of silver in his hair, had taken notice of him. Leon had excelled during the herb identification test, rattling off names and properties with confidence.
The recruiter offered him an apprenticeship in La’Hara. It wasn’t the path he had envisioned, but it was something—an opportunity to build a life, not just for himself, but for Lyra.
Leon stepped back into the house. The inside was sparse but homely, with a modest kitchen and a single shared bedroom. Near the hearth, Lyra lay in her small bed, propped up by pillows.
Her skin was pale, almost translucent in the soft light of the room, and her breathing came in shallow waves. Despite her frail condition, her smile was as bright as ever when Leon approached.
“Here you go, Lyra,” Leon said, holding out a small vial filled with a pale green liquid. “This should help with the coughing for a while.”
Lyra took the vial with trembling hands, her fingers brushing against his [https://img.wattpad.com/fd9224408836d3a91a3f1296fe9c5862a254a3e1/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f6d725644546b46486271464a74673d3d2d313530313230393337332e313830663037636665643732353932313434333539393330363939302e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Lyra took the vial with trembling hands, her fingers brushing against his. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Leon sat down beside her, watching as she drank the medicine in small, deliberate sips.
“I’m sorry, big brother,” she said suddenly, her gaze lowering.
Leon’s chest tightened, and his expression softened. “Hey,” he said gently, brushing a strand of her hair back. “You never have to apologize to me. You’re my little sister, and it’s my job to take care of you. Always.”
Lyra giggled softly, her laughter barely more than a breath. “You’re so silly.”
Lyra had always blamed herself for their hardships, convinced that their father had abandoned them because of her.
She had been too young to understand the truth. Their father had left shortly after Lyra was born, a selfish act that had left their mother broken in both body and spirit. The strain of raising two children alone had been too much. She had grown weaker with each passing day, and by the time Leon was old enough to understand what was happening, she was gone.
“That good-for-nothing coward,” Leon thought bitterly, his hands tightening into fists as the memory of his father resurfaced.
Leon hesitated for a moment, his gaze falling to Lyra, who was trying her best to smile despite her frailty. A deep conflict swirled in his heart. He hated the idea of sending her away, of entrusting her care to distant relatives their mother had scarcely spoken of, let alone trusted. But it was the only way. The only way he could get enough time to become someone capable of providing for her. Someone who could give her the life she deserved.
The sound of hooves and wheels outside signaled that the carriage he was expecting had arrived.
Reaching for the coat draped over the back of a chair, Leon paused. The soft fabric was worn but still warm, its deep brown color faded in places from years of use. It had belonged to their mother. Lyra’s eyes widened when she saw it, her small hands trembling as she reached out to touch it.
“Isn’t this… Mama’s?” she asked softly, her voice laced with both surprise and hesitation.
Leon nodded, kneeling beside her as he held it out. “It was always meant for you, Lyra,” he said, his voice gentle. “She would have wanted you to have it. And now… now it’ll keep you warm, just like she would.”
Tears welled up in Lyra’s eyes, and she clutched the coat tightly to her chest.
Leon smiled faintly, his own eyes stinging as he carefully helped her into the coat. It was too big for her small frame, but she wrapped it around herself with a sense of comfort and safety that made Leon’s heart ache in both sorrow and relief.
“See?” he said with a soft grin, adjusting the collar to fit snugly around her neck. “It fits you perfectly.”
Lyra looked up at him, her dark eyes shimmering with gratitude. “Thank you, big brother,” she said, her voice barely audible but filled with warmth.
Leon leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
With her now bundled in the coat, he lifted her into his arms. She was so light, far lighter than she should have been, and it made his heart ache.
The carriage stood waiting near the edge of the village, its driver a quiet, somber man who gave Leon a respectful nod as he approached.
Carefully, Leon set Lyra down on the cushioned seat inside. She turned to look at him, her dark eyes brimming with tears.
“I’ll be okay,” she said, trying to sound brave.
“I know you will,” Leon replied, forcing a smile. “You’re stronger than you think.”
The driver closed the door, and the carriage began to move. Leon stood frozen, watching as it rolled down the road, the sound of the wheels growing fainter with each passing moment.
Lyra pressed her face to the window, her pale hand resting against the glass. For a long time, Leon could see her watching him, her figure growing smaller and smaller until the carriage disappeared over the horizon.
Two days passed after Lyra’s departure, and the house felt unbearably empty. Leon spent the first night lying awake, staring at the ceiling. The familiar sounds of Lyra’s soft breathing were gone, replaced by an oppressive silence that only deepened his sense of loss.
By the second day, the weight of her absence had dulled into a low ache. Leon kept himself busy with preparations, checking and re-checking the items he’d packed for his journey.
When the time finally came, Leon stood at the door of their small home, a bag slung over his shoulder. He gave the house one last look, its familiar walls and creaking floors filled with memories of laughter and struggle.
As he walked down the road toward the village center, he was greeted by familiar faces—people who had supported him and Lyra through the years.
Evelyn, the baker, was the first to meet him. She was a stout, cheerful woman with flour-dusted hands and an apron tied tightly around her waist. Beside her stood Annelise, Osric’s daughter, her auburn hair tied back in a neat braid.
“Here, take this,” Evelyn said, handing Leon a small cloth bag filled with warm bread. “You’ll need your strength on the road.”
Leon smiled, his chest tightening- “Thank you, Evelyn. For everything.”
Evelyn glanced at her daughter, whose cheeks seemed a little pinker than usual. “Don’t you have something to say, dear?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.
Annelise hesitated, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Good luck out there,” she said softly, her eyes meeting Leon’s for the briefest moment before darting away. “My father says you’re bound for great things.”
Leon gave her a small nod, his thoughts focused elsewhere. “Thank you. And take care of yourself.”
Evelyn’s smile widened, but she said nothing more, turning back to her shop with a slight shake of her head.
Next came Osric, the village blacksmith, a towering man with a thick beard and arms like tree trunks. He approached with a wrapped bundle in his hands, a grin on his soot-smudged face.
“Hold on, lad,” Osric said, handing Leon the bundle.
Inside was a short sword, its blade simple but sturdy.
“You’re a man now,” Osric said with a hearty laugh. “Every man needs a blade to protect what’s important. Consider it an early birthday gift.”
Leon nodded, taking the sword with both hands. “Thank you, Osric. I’ll use it well.”
Osric clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to nearly knock him off balance. “I know you will.”
Annelise lingered near the doorway of the blacksmith shop, her gaze flickering between Leon and the ground.
“Take care, Leon,” she said softly as he passed.
“You too,” he replied, not noticing the way her fingers tightened around the edge of her apron.
At the outskirts of the village, Leon met the old merchant who would take him partway to La’Hara. The merchant, a wiry man with a face weathered by decades of travel, stood beside a cart filled with supplies.
“You must be Leon,” the man said, his voice rough but not unkind. “I was told you’d be needing a ride.”
Leon nodded, setting his bag down. “Yes, sir. Thank you for letting me come along. Do you need help loading anything?”
The merchant chuckled, gesturing to the last few crates near the cart. “If you’ve got a strong back, I won’t say no.”
Leon rolled up his sleeves and got to work, lifting crates of dried goods and sacks of flour onto the cart. His arms burned with the effort, but he didn’t stop until the last bundle was secured.
“Good lad,” the merchant said, climbing onto the driver’s seat. “Hop in. It’s a long way, and I don’t fancy wasting daylight.”
Leon climbed into the back of the cart, settling among the supplies as the village faded into the distance behind him.
The trip had started uneventfully, as Leon had expected. This region, nestled south of the lands controlled by La’Hara, was considered one of the safest. Local patrols were enough to keep the roads clear, and the monsters that did roam these parts were weak enough to avoid being a serious threat.
Leon sat in the back of the merchant’s cart, surrounded by crates of dried goods and sacks of grain. His thoughts drifted to Lyra. It had only been a few days since her departure, but he couldn’t stop worrying. He found himself whispering quiet prayers for her well-being as the cart rocked gently along the dirt road.
The journey to La’Hara would take about a week. The merchant, a seasoned traveler, planned their route carefully, making camp every evening just before nightfall. Even in a safe region, traveling after dark was a risk they wouldn’t take.
On the first night, the merchant showed Leon how to set up the small mana beacons he carried. Each beacon was a slender crystal structure, about the height of a forearm, set into a simple metal base. The crystal was smooth, with intricate etchings that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.
"Here, like this," the merchant said, positioning one of the beacons into the ground with a practiced motion. He struck a flint-like tool against its base, igniting it with a sharp snap.
The crystal came to life, its glow unfurling like a flame. Soft, ethereal light pulsed outward, casting gentle shadows against the nearby trees. It was nothing like the harsh brightness of a torch or lantern; instead, it bathed the area in a soothing light that seemed to embrace the night rather than fight it.
Leon couldn’t help but stare. The faint hum of magic resonating from the devices filled the air with a strange, calming rhythm, easing the tension that had coiled in his chest. The flickering illumination painted the surroundings in shifting hues, making the edges of the campsite feel like a protective cocoon. For reasons he couldn’t quite understand, the light made his thoughts feel quieter, as though it dulled the sharper edges of his worry.
The merchant gave a small chuckle, snapping Leon out of his reverie. "These little things are handy, aren’t they? Not just for monsters, but for keeping the mind steady." He gestured to the next beacon. "Go on, try it yourself."
Leon hesitated before taking the tool, mimicking the merchant’s actions. The crystal flared to life beneath his hands, its glow washing over him. For a moment, the darkness of the forest felt less daunting, its mysteries held at bay by the tranquil light.
Even after he set up the rest of the beacons around their camp, Leon found himself watching their flickering glow long into the night. He couldn’t explain it, but something about their presence made him feel a little less alone.
He had heard stories of magic but had never seen it used so practically. His mother had once told him tales of the hero who founded La’Hara, a powerful mage with abilities far beyond mortal understanding. As a child, Leon had dreamed of becoming a magician, but he knew better now. Magic affinity was one of the rarest gifts and was usually identified in childhood. If he had possessed it, someone would have whisked him away to the capital long ago.
The merchant prepared a simple stew for dinner, and Leon gratefully ate his portion. The quiet of the forest at night was unsettling but not unwelcome. With the beacons in place, Leon managed to fall asleep beneath the clear sky.
Leon woke suddenly in the middle of the night, his body covered in cold sweat. He sat up, heart pounding.
“A nightmare?” he murmured, rubbing his temples. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall what had jolted him awake. The dream, if there had been one, had vanished entirely.
The second day of travel passed without incident. The merchant was content to focus on the road, leaving Leon to his thoughts. The cart creaked as its wheels rolled over the uneven dirt path, and the horses’ hooves made a steady rhythm. Leon found the monotony oddly comforting.
On the third day, they encountered another traveler on the road—a hooded figure walking alone. The figure’s robe was deep gray, its edges trimmed with intricate patterns Leon couldn’t quite make out from a distance.
The merchant pulled the cart to a stop as the figure approached. After a brief, quiet exchange that Leon couldn’t hear, the merchant nodded and motioned to the back of the cart.
“Climb in if you like,” the merchant said gruffly.
The hooded figure stepped into the cart gracefully, settling on the opposite side of the supplies. Leon tried to make polite conversation, but his words went unanswered. The figure didn’t even glance his way.
“Guess they don’t feel like talking,” Leon thought, leaning back against a sack of flour.
On the fourth night, they made camp in a small clearing near the road. As the merchant placed the beacons, the hooded figure slipped into the forest without a word.
Leon watched them leave, curious but unsure if he should follow. “We all need privacy sometimes,” he thought, shrugging it off.
The merchant prepared dinner again, and Leon noticed something about their quiet companion. As the figure sat by the fire, the dim light highlighted their silhouette—slender, almost delicate.
Leon frowned, realization dawning. “It’s a woman,” he muttered under his breath, feeling a little foolish for not noticing sooner.
The horses suddenly grew agitated. They whinnied and stamped their hooves, pulling at their reins. The merchant stood quickly, his hand on the dagger at his belt.
Leon looked around, confused. “What’s wrong?”
The hooded figure rose silently, turning toward the dark forest beyond the camp.
But the disturbance was brief. The horses settled, their nervous energy fading as quickly as it had come. The merchant let out a soft laugh, though his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Don’t worry, lad,” he said. “The beacons will keep us safe.”
Leon tried to believe him, but an eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by the crackling of the fire.
Later that night, Leon woke again, drenched in sweat. His heart raced as he sat up, the remnants of a forgotten dream clawing at the edges of his mind.
Across the clearing, the hooded figure was standing, barely illuminated by the glow of the mana beacons. For a moment, Leon’s breath caught. The lower half of their face was visible—pale skin, almost luminous against the shadows. A lock of hair had slipped from the hood, dark as ink with a faint bluish sheen.
“Dark blue hair?” Leon whispered, squinting.
Before he could make sense of what he was seeing, the figure turned away, the movement so fluid it was almost unnatural.
Leon shivered, lying back down and pulling his blanket tighter around himself. His heart still pounded, and though he told himself it was nothing, unease gnawed at him.
“This feels… familiar,” he murmured.
But no matter how hard he tried to grasp the thought, it slipped away, leaving only a lingering sense of dread.
By morning, the tension had lifted. The merchant packed the cart while Leon helped secure the last of the supplies. Their quiet companion stood at the edge of the clearing, her hood once again concealing her face.
The cart creaked as they resumed their journey. Though Leon tried to focus on the road ahead, his thoughts kept circling back to the nightmares and the strange feeling that had settled over him since the start of the trip.
Maybe it was just worry for Lyra. Or maybe it was something more.
The fifth day of travel dawned bright and cool, the air crisp with the scent of pine as the cart rolled through a stretch of forest. Leon sat at the back of the cart, idly watching the scenery pass. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t shake the restless feeling that had been growing since they’d started this journey.
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The merchant, seated at the front of the cart, seemed as calm and unbothered as ever, occasionally humming an off-key tune. Their hooded companion, however, remained as silent as the day they had joined.
The road had grown quieter, the sounds of birds and small animals giving way to an unsettling stillness.
That evening, they stopped in another clearing to set up camp. As the merchant prepared their usual stew, the hooded figure once again slipped into the forest. This time, Leon’s curiosity got the better of him.
“Where do they keep going?” he muttered to himself.
The figure returned half an hour later, moving with the same fluid grace as before. They sat down by the fire without a word, their face hidden in the shadows of their hood.
Leon tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help noticing the way the firelight danced on the intricate patterns embroidered into the robe’s edges. There was something almost regal about it.
“Curious about our guest?” the merchant asked, his tone amused.
Leon flushed, quickly shaking his head. “No, sir. Just… wondering why they’re so quiet.”
The merchant chuckled, stirring the pot. “Not everyone’s chatty, lad. Best not to pry.”
Leon nodded, though his curiosity remained.
Night fell, and they settled in for another uneasy sleep. The mana beacons cast their faint glow over the camp, their rhythmic hum blending with the crackling of the dying fire.
But once again, Leon woke suddenly, his heart pounding. This time, it wasn’t a dream that had disturbed him.
The horses were restless again, their hooves striking the ground in frantic rhythms. The merchant was already awake, standing near the edge of the camp with a torch in hand.
“Stay by the fire,” he instructed Leon firmly.
Leon obeyed, gripping the short sword Osric had given him. He scanned the dark treeline, searching for any sign of movement.
The hooded figure stood still as stone, their head tilted slightly, as if listening to something beyond the range of normal hearing.
“Do you hear something?” Leon whispered.
The merchant turned back toward him, his face pale in the flickering light of the torch. “No,” he said. “And that’s what worries me.”
The forest had gone deathly quiet. No insects, no birds, not even the rustle of leaves.
Then, without warning, a piercing shriek cut through the silence. Somewhere deep in the woods, a sound so unnatural that it made Leon’s blood run cold.
“What was that?” he asked, his voice trembling.
The merchant’s grip on his torch tightened. “Trouble.”
The hooded figure moved at last, their hand slipping into their robe to retrieve something. Leon caught a glimpse of polished wood—a staff? Before he could react, the figure stepped forward, positioning themselves between the fire and the darkness beyond.
“Stay back!” the merchant barked.
The hooded figure didn’t listen.
The next few moments passed in a blur. Shapes emerged from the shadows, shambling toward the camp with an unnatural gait. Leon’s stomach twisted as he realized what they were.
“Undead,” he whispered, his grip on the sword tightening.
There were three of them—skeletons, their bones gleaming pale in the faint light of the beacons.
The merchant cursed under his breath, drawing his dagger. “Lad, if you’re going to fight, now’s the time!”
Leon nodded, his fear giving way to a surge of determination. He stepped forward, raising the blade. But as the first skeleton lunged toward him, he froze.
The hooded figure moved faster than Leon thought possible. Their staff swept through the air, striking the skeleton’s skull with a force that shattered it into pieces.
A second skeleton charged, and the figure muttered something under their breath. A burst of energy erupted from their staff, disintegrating the creature where it stood.
Leon stared in stunned silence, his sword hanging uselessly at his side.
The third skeleton hesitated, as if sensing the danger. Before it could retreat, the hooded figure raised their staff again, and a final flash of energy reduced it to ash.
The camp fell silent once more, save for the heavy breathing of the merchant and the crackling of the fire.
Leon turned to the hooded figure, his heart racing. “You… you’re a mage?”
The hooded figure lowered their staff, the faint glow at its tip fading. For the first time, they looked directly at him.
Their hood slipped slightly, revealing dark blue hair and eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light.
Leon took a step back, his pulse pounding in his ears.
In a low, almost inaudible voice, the hooded figure spoke for the first time. “They’re being controlled. I need to find it fast.”
Before Leon could process her words, she turned sharply and began striding toward the darkness beyond the camp, her staff gripped tightly in one hand.
“Wait!” Leon called after her, but she didn’t stop.
The merchant grabbed his arm, shaking his head. “Best not to follow, lad. Let her do what she has to do.”
Leon stared after her, the unease in his chest growing heavier.
A few tense moments had passed since the hooded mage had vanished into the forest. Leon remained near the cart, unease prickling at his skin as the merchant struggled to calm the agitated horses. Their nervous whinnies and stamping hooves grew louder with every passing second, as though they sensed something terrible approaching.
“Easy, easy now,” the merchant muttered, his voice strained as he tugged at the reins.
Leon moved to help, gripping one of the leather leads to steady the closest horse. Its eyes rolled wildly, nostrils flaring as it tossed its head.
Then it happened.
A deafening explosion ripped through the night, shaking the ground beneath their feet. The force of it sent a pulse through Leon’s chest, and he stumbled backward, barely keeping his footing.
“What the hell was that?” he shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the horses’ panicked cries.
The merchant didn’t answer, his attention entirely on the frenzied animals.
-crack-
A sharp noise broke through the chaos, freezing Leon mid-step. His gaze snapped to one of the mana beacons near the edge of the clearing. A deep fracture ran along its glowing surface, the light flickering weakly.
“Old man! The beacon’s—”
Before Leon could finish, something heavy slammed into his back with terrifying force, cutting off his words.
He was thrown through the air, his body twisting uncontrollably before he crashed against a tree with a sickening thud. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
The world spun around him as he rolled to the ground, finally coming to rest on his back. Above him, the forest canopy stretched toward the sky, the branches swaying gently in the breeze under the pale glow of the moon and stars.
Pain lanced through him, sharp and unrelenting, radiating from his back and spreading to every corner of his body. He tried to move, to push himself upright, but his arms trembled and gave out beneath him.
A hot, sticky sensation spread across his back. Panic flared as he reached around with a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against something wet.
When he brought his hand into view, it was coated in blood.
“Damn it…” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His stomach twisted, and he fought the urge to vomit.
Leon forced himself to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his battered body, but he clenched his teeth and pressed on. He had to get back to the cart.
The forest around him was alive with chaos—distant booms and flashes of light pierced the darkness, the sounds of more explosions echoing through the trees.
When Leon finally emerged from the tree line and reached the wagon, his breath caught in his throat.
The clearing was a scene of carnage.
One of the horses was gone, its reins snapped and trailing uselessly on the ground. The other was nothing more than a bloody mess, its body torn apart and scattered in pieces. Steam rose from the remnants in the cool night air, and the metallic stench of blood hit Leon like a physical blow.
The merchant was nowhere to be seen.
Leon’s knees buckled, but he caught himself against the side of the cart, gripping the wooden frame so tightly his knuckles turned white. His mind raced, each thought more frantic than the last.
“What the hell is going on?” he rasped, his voice breaking.
He scanned the area desperately, searching for any sign of the merchant or the hooded mage. But the clearing offered no answers—only silence and the faint, eerie glow of the remaining mana beacons, their light flickering weakly as if they, too, were on the verge of collapse.
Another explosion shook the forest, this one closer than before. Leon turned toward the sound, his heart pounding in his chest. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t over.
And he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it.
Leon frantically scanned the area, his eyes darting between the scattered supplies and the blood-soaked ground. His heart raced as he spotted his sword lying a few paces away, partially hidden beneath a torn scrap of canvas.
“There it is,” he muttered, scrambling toward it.
As he reached for the hilt, his gaze caught something unusual on the ground nearby. His hand froze mid-air.
Next to the sword was a faint footprint pressed into the soft earth. It was human-like but distinctly odd. Unlike the skeletal remains he had seen earlier, this print lacked the angular sharpness of exposed bone. It was… barefoot.
Leon frowned, his chest tightening.
“Uh…?” he murmured, his mind racing.
The mage was definitely wearing shoes. And this print was too small to belong to the merchant.
A cold sensation crawled down his spine, prickling his skin as the sound of rustling bushes reached his ears.
He stiffened, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. Slowly, he turned toward the source of the noise, his breath shallow and uneven.
From the dense shadows of the forest, a skeletal figure burst forth, its movements unnervingly quick.
Leon barely dodged the attack, throwing himself to the side as the creature's bony claws swiped through the air where he had been standing moments before.
He rolled to his feet, coughing hard as his chest burned with effort. Raising the sword, he swung it in a wide arc at the skeleton.
The blade struck true, but instead of cleaving through, it glanced off the creature’s ribcage with a metallic clang. The impact jarred his hands, sending vibrations up his arms.
“What the—?” Leon stammered, his grip tightening on the hilt as he stumbled back a step.
The skeleton let out a low, guttural growl, its empty eye sockets locking onto him as it crouched low, preparing to strike again.
Leon’s breaths came in ragged gasps, his hands trembling slightly. His fingers felt numb, the chill creeping into his palms despite the sweat beading on his brow.
“Why… am I so cold?” he muttered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
The creature lunged again, and Leon braced himself, his mind racing for a way to survive.
Leon dropped lower, letting himself fall to the ground to avoid the skeleton’s head-on charge. He rolled away, his injured back scraping painfully against the rough earth. A sharp gasp escaped his lips, but he bit down the pain, forcing himself to focus.
As he came to a stop, something caught his eye—a faint, flickering glow pulsing weakly in the darkness.
“The beacon,” Leon whispered.
Next to him, the broken mana beacon emitted a dim, rhythmic light. Its fractured surface shimmered faintly, casting eerie shadows over the forest floor.
The skeleton turned, its hollow eye sockets fixed on him once more. It dislodged its jaw with an audible crack, the lower half of its skull swinging open grotesquely as it let out a bone-chilling growl. Then it charged.
Leon’s body acted on instinct. His hand shot out, grabbing the broken beacon. The edges of the fractured glass-like structure bit into his skin, but he barely noticed the sting. In his grip, a shard about the size of his hand glowed faintly, its surface humming with unstable energy.
The skeleton lunged, its clawed hands reaching for him. Leon swung the shard upward with all his strength, driving it into the open maw of the undead creature.
The shard struck home, lodging itself deep in the skeleton’s jaw. The creature let out a horrifying, high-pitched shriek as the shard pulsed with light, its glow intensifying.
Leon didn’t stop to think. Scrambling to his feet, he gripped his sword tightly—though it felt more like a blunt club in his trembling hands—and slammed the flat of the blade against the shard protruding from the skeleton’s jaw.
The impact drove the shard deeper, piercing through the creature’s skull. With a final burst of light, the shard disintegrated, scattering in a shower of glowing particles.
The skeleton fell instantly, its body collapsing into a heap of loose bones. The air filled with the sound of brittle snapping as the creature’s remains settled lifelessly onto the ground.
Leon stumbled back, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He stared at the pile of bones in front of him, the faint glow of the beacon’s remnants fading into the night.
“What… was that?” he muttered, his voice shaking.
He looked down at his trembling hands. The edges of the broken beacon shard had left faint cuts on his palm, but they hardly mattered now. His body still felt cold, his breath visible in the chill air.
Leon gripped his sword tightly, scanning the darkness for any other threats. The forest was silent again, but the tension in the air remained, heavy and oppressive.
His mind raced. Whatever had just happened, it wasn’t over.
Leon’s breath caught in his throat as he stumbled backward, his heart sinking like a stone in his chest.
From the shadows of the forest emerged something that defied explanation. It wasn’t like the skeletons he had faced before. This was… worse. It moved with a deliberate slowness, its long, sinewy arms swaying unnaturally at its sides.
Leon gasped sharply, his breath hitching as his chest heaved. A fit of coughing overtook him, each spasm sending jolts of pain through his body. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, and he spat, crimson droplets staining the dirt below.
The creature took another step, and the air seemed to tremble with its presence. The remaining mana beacons, still flickering weakly, began to emit a high-pitched screech. The sound grew louder with every step the creature took, grating against Leon’s ears like nails on glass.
He gripped his sword tightly, forcing himself to stand. His legs shook, but Leon refused to fall.
The thing was close enough now for him to make out its grotesque details. Its skeletal frame was draped in tattered black cloth that hung loosely from its torso, the fabric stained with blood both old and new. Its elongated arms ended in spindly fingers tipped with claws, each one dripping with fresh gore.
And its face.
Leon’s breath hitched as he realized the creature was smiling.
Its exposed bones twisted into an unnatural grin, the jagged edges of its teeth grinding audibly as its jaw shifted from side to side.
“What…?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the shrill noise of the beacons.
A violent coughing fit overtook him, his throat burning as warm, metallic-tasting liquid rose, flooding his senses.
The creature moved closer, its bony frame rattling softly with each step. Leon’s mind screamed at him to run, but his body refused to obey.
“It’s the stuff of nightmares…” he muttered under his breath, his vision swimming.
Oddly, he wasn’t afraid.
As the creature drew nearer, a profound sadness took hold of him, weighing him down more heavily than his injuries. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to his sister.
“At least Lyra will have a better life…” he thought bitterly, tightening his grip on his sword.
The creature stopped just a few feet away. Its hollow sockets bore into him, and then, it did something Leon didn’t expect.
It laughed.
The sound was a guttural, choking noise, devoid of any joy or humanity. It echoed through the clearing, a hideous mockery of life.
“Something’s wrong,” Leon whispered, a chill running down his spine.
The creature reached behind its back with one of its elongated arms, its bony fingers disappearing into the tattered folds of its robe. When it brought its hand forward, Leon’s heart stopped.
It held a dirty rag, crusted with dried blood.
Leon froze, his wide eyes locked on the cloth. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as his mind raced.
Images flooded his thoughts—Lyra’s frail smile, her soft voice as she thanked him, the warmth of her small hands in his as he wrapped her coat around her shoulders that final day.
The coat.
The creature tilted its head, its bony grin stretching impossibly wide. It held the bloodstained cloth aloft, waving it mockingly, like a trophy.
Leon’s legs buckled, and he dropped to his knees.
“No…” he whispered, his voice breaking.
The creature’s laughter grew louder, filling the night as the screeching of the beacons reached a fever pitch.
Leon’s vision blurred, tears stinging his eyes as his grip on the sword faltered.
This wasn’t just a nightmare. It was something worse.
And the thing in front of him knew it.
The creature seemed to bask in Leon’s suffering, standing motionless as though savoring every ounce of despair radiating from him. Its skeletal grin widened, its bony frame rattling softly with each breathless, grotesque laugh.
Leon’s mind spun, flashes of his choices and failures cutting through his thoughts like jagged glass. He saw Lyra’s tear-streaked face as he sent her away, his mother’s lifeless form on her sickbed, and his own reflection in the river as he vowed to become something greater.
But now, all of it felt meaningless.
Sadness. Loss.
And the cold—an unbearable, empty coldness that seeped into his bones and mind.
The creature’s laughter grew louder, grating against Leon’s ears like shattered glass.
Then, a sharp jolt of pain shot through his arm, pulling him back to reality. His hand tightened around his sword, the edges of the beacon’s cuts burning with every heartbeat.
Hot anger began to replace the numbing despair. A spark flickered within him, growing into a blaze that overtook the icy grip of hopelessness.
His teeth clenched as he pushed himself to his feet, gripping his sword tightly. Without thinking, he charged at the creature, a guttural cry tearing from his throat.
For a moment, the thing hesitated, its hollow sockets widening as if caught off guard by the sudden defiance.
But just as Leon raised his sword to strike, the creature moved.
Its long, clawed arm swept through the air in a lazy backhand, smashing into Leon with bone-crushing force.
The impact sent him flying into the wreckage of the cart.
Wood splintered and cracked as his body slammed into the shattered remains. Pain lanced through his chest, sharp and unrelenting, as something inside him gave way. He collapsed in a heap, gasping for breath as his vision blurred.
The metallic taste in his mouth grew stronger. He coughed, and warm blood spilled from his lips, staining the dirt below.
“Agh…” Leon groaned, struggling to lift his head. His arms shook as he tried to push himself up, and a weak laugh escaped him. “I guess this is it…”
He leaned back against the broken cart, his breathing shallow. “No wonder the guild didn’t accept me if I can’t even take on a simple skeleton.”
A faint smile crept across his bloodied face.
“Wha…” Leon muttered, his smile growing wider against his will. “Where is this… coming from?”
His body was broken, his chances of survival nonexistent. He was facing a creature that was certain to kill him. Yet, he was smiling.
“Maybe I’m going insane,” he thought. “Yeah… that must be it.”
As he forced himself upright, his eyes locked onto the creature once more [https://img.wattpad.com/0677dd669915ede05497edfdcbd1bce468d91406/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f4b726341663466476a345a7659513d3d2d313530313231343931362e313830663061356132373762303031633932343536373735363234362e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
As he forced himself upright, his eyes locked onto the creature once more. Its bony grin had faded, replaced by something almost resembling frustration.
“What’s the matter?” Leon rasped, his smile turning into a grimace. “Can’t enjoy your meal like this?”
The creature crouched lower, its skeletal frame coiling as if preparing to strike.
Leon’s grip tightened around his sword, but the pain in his left arm forced him to let go of the hilt with one hand. The beacon’s cuts pulsed with agony, each throb sending fresh waves of heat through his body.
“Doesn’t matter,” Leon said through gritted teeth, raising the sword with his remaining strength. “Not yet…”
His legs trembled beneath him, but he refused to fall.
His right hand steadied the blade, pointing its tip toward the creature as it began its slow, deliberate advance.
“I’m not done yet,” Leon muttered, his voice steady despite the overwhelming pain.
The creature lunged, its skeletal claws arcing toward Leon with terrifying speed. Leon raised his sword just in time to deflect the blow, but the impact sent a violent shockwave through his body. His grip faltered, the hilt slipping in his bloodied hand.
A sharp, searing pain engulfed his left arm as the wounds from the shattered beacon began to glow faintly, the light pulsing in rhythm with his racing heart.
The creature’s hollow sockets widened at the sight, and it hesitated for the briefest moment, recalculating its next move.
Instinctively, Leon raised his trembling left hand and pressed it against the creature’s ribcage.
Then, it happened.
BANG
A blinding flash erupted from Leon’s palm, followed by a shockwave that sent him hurtling backward. He crashed into the dirt with a heavy thud, his ears ringing and his vision swimming.
The creature let out a deafening bellow of pain, staggering as smoke rose from its chest. A gaping hole now marred its bony torso, faint traces of light flickering around the edges of the wound.
Leon struggled to his feet, cradling his left arm, which now hung limp at his side. He stared at the creature in disbelief.
“Wha… what was that?” he stammered, his voice barely audible.
The creature recoiled, writhing as it tried to regain its balance. Its eerie laughter had vanished, replaced by a guttural growl that seemed to echo with pure hatred.
Despite his injuries, Leon found himself laughing, the sound unbidden and uncontrollable.
“What… what am I doing?” he muttered, his own reaction baffling him.
The sound of his laughter caught the creature’s attention. It turned its hollow gaze toward him, its skeletal grin now replaced by something far more menacing.
The air grew heavy, thick with malice. This time, it wasn’t playing.
Leon’s breath hitched as he steadied himself, his legs trembling beneath him. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, but he gripped his battered sword tightly with his right hand, willing his body to hold firm.
Time seemed to slow as the creature crouched low, its form wreathed in a swirling black mist.
It leapt toward him, the mist trailing like a ghostly shroud.
“I wish we could’ve had a better life, Lyra. I’m sorry…” Leon thought, a bittersweet calm washing over him.
Silence.
A brilliant flash of light blinded him, cutting through the darkness. The light turned crimson, exploding in a burst of raw energy where the creature had been.
Leon couldn’t hear the explosion, but he had seen this magic before.
“The mage…”
His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground. He could only watch as the scene unfolded before him, his body too broken to move.
The mage stood in the clearing, her robe torn and singed but her movements untouched by fatigue. She moved with an otherworldly grace, dodging the creature’s frantic swipes with ease.
Her staff whirled through the air, each motion releasing another precise spell. Explosions of fire, bursts of frost, and arcs of lightning hammered the creature, driving it further and further back.
Leon’s vision blurred as the lights began to fade. His body felt impossibly cold, and the edges of his consciousness began to slip away.
“I’ll see you soon… Lyra…”
The thought lingered in his mind as everything turned to black.
…
…
A soft warmth brushed against Leon's skin [https://img.wattpad.com/d8f92590090ce819139fa1cea5dc0828ef873cd5/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f3458566d766c39674462565237413d3d2d313530313231343931362e313830663061396135383536376534623238323736303033393438322e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
A soft warmth brushed against Leon’s skin.
His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked against the brightness of the sky above. The gentle sway of the ground beneath him made him realize he was moving.
“I’m… alive?” he thought, his mind sluggish.
Leon turned his head slightly, wincing as he saw the familiar outline of the cart he had traveled in. He was lying atop the supplies, his body wrapped in bandages. He felt strange—not exactly in pain, but not whole either.
Walking alongside the cart was the hooded mage, her robe now patched and clean. The hood had fallen slightly, revealing her face. She couldn’t have been older than him. Dark bluish hair framed her pale face, and her piercing green eyes seemed to glow faintly as she glanced his way.
Leon tried to speak, but a sharp jolt of pain stopped him, making him recoil.
The mage studied him for a moment, her gaze unreadable.
“Please, get some rest,” she said in a calm, low voice.
Leon closed his eyes again, exhaustion pulling him under. The rhythmic creak of the cart’s wheels lulled him into a dreamless sleep.