The streets of Eastmere were bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun as Eldrin, Ana, and Ruk made their way through the bustling town. The cobbled roads were filled with the familiar sounds of merchants packing up their stalls, and the murmur of townsfolk heading home for the evening or seeking solace in one of the many taverns lining the streets. Eastmere, the furthest settlement on the eastern edge of the Kingdom of Aldrosia, marked the boundary of safety and the wild frontier beyond.

Ruk’s eyes darted around, wide with curiosity as they passed by the various stalls. “So many shinies,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers itching to inspect every trinket they passed.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Ruk,” Ana warned, giving him a sidelong glance, though her voice had a teasing edge. “Last thing we need is you getting into trouble before we’ve even settled in.”

“Ruk would never!” the goblin replied with an innocent smile, though his hands instinctively tucked themselves away as they continued on.

Eldrin chuckled but felt a lingering tension that he couldn’t shake. His thoughts drifted back to the guard’s words—the tone that suggested something wasn’t right. As they approached The Silver Swan, his unease deepened, but he pushed it aside, eager for rest after their long journey.

The inn’s sign, depicting a silver swan in flight, swayed gently above the door. The warm light spilling from the windows and the smell of roasting meat provided a welcome contrast to the uncertainty that gnawed at the back of Eldrin’s mind. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, greeted by the comforting murmur of conversation and the sight of familiar faces.

Vera, the innkeeper, stood behind the counter, her face lighting up with a smile the moment she spotted Eldrin. “Eldrin! It’s been too long,” she called out, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached.

Eldrin offered a tired smile in return. “Good to see you, Vera. It has been a while.”

Vera’s gaze flicked toward Ana and Ruk, lingering on the goblin for a moment. “Friends of yours?”

“They are,” Eldrin replied. “We’ve had a long journey, and we’ll need rooms for the night.”

Vera nodded but hesitated, her smile faltering as her expression grew more serious. She leaned in, lowering her voice so only Eldrin could hear. “There’s something you should know,” she whispered, glancing around the inn as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

Eldrin frowned. “What is it?”

Vera’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Your master… they found him dead in his tower. No one knows how it happened, but they say it was unnatural.”

The words sent a chill down Eldrin’s spine, and for a moment, the noise of the inn faded into the background. His master, dead? “Dead?” he whispered, disbelief clouding his mind.

“I’m sorry, lad,” Vera said gently, her face soft with sympathy. “He was a good man.”

Ana, noticing Eldrin’s sudden change in demeanor, stepped forward. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Eldrin swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. “My master… he’s dead. They found him in his tower.”

Ruk’s ears drooped, and his wide eyes looked up at Eldrin with sorrow. “Eldrin’s master... gone?” he asked softly. “Ruk is sorry.”

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The unease that had been building within Eldrin deepened. The connection to the obsidian orb, the cryptic carvings in the chamber—they all seemed to point toward this. His master’s death wasn’t a coincidence.

“Let’s get to the room,” Ana said quietly, guiding Eldrin. “We need to talk.”

The three companions ascended the creaky wooden stairs, led by Vera to a small room at the far end of the hallway. She handed Eldrin the key, offering a sympathetic smile before disappearing back down the stairs.

Eldrin unlocked the door, his hand trembling slightly as they stepped inside. The room was modest—a simple bed, a small wooden desk, and a single window overlooking the bustling street below. The weight of his master’s death pressed down on him as he lit a candle and pulled the curtains closed, casting the room in dim light.

Ana stood near the door, her arms crossed, watching him closely. “What do you think happened?” she asked, her tone low and serious.

“I don’t know,” Eldrin muttered, his voice distant. “But this can’t be a coincidence. I think it’s connected to what we found in the Spire.”

Ruk, his senses always sharp, stiffened suddenly. His ears twitched as his eyes darted toward a shadowed corner of the room. “Eldrin… we’re not alone.”

Ana’s hand went instantly to the hilt of her sword, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

Ruk pointed, his voice a harsh whisper. “There. In the shadows.”

Eldrin’s heart raced as his eyes strained to see through the darkness. In the far corner of the room, where the candlelight didn’t quite reach, a figure lurked—a dark-cloaked assassin, blending into the shadows. Before Eldrin could react, the figure lunged, a dagger flashing toward him.

The assassin moved with deadly speed, aiming for Eldrin’s side. But Ruk’s sharp eyes had given them just enough warning. Eldrin stepped back instinctively, narrowly avoiding the full brunt of the attack, though the blade still grazed him. Pain flared through his side as the cold steel sliced through his robes, drawing blood.

Ana drew her sword in a heartbeat, her eyes blazing with fury. “You picked the wrong room,” she growled, stepping between Eldrin and the assassin.

But Eldrin, despite the pain, knew what had to be done. He raised his hand, his fingers crackling with arcane energy. Words of power tumbled from his lips as he summoned his magic. A glowing, ethereal bolt formed in the air before streaking toward the assassin with deadly precision.

The Magic Missile struck the assassin square in the chest, a flash of light briefly illuminating the dark room as the force of the spell sent the attacker stumbling back.

Ruk, quick as always, darted forward, his own dagger flashing in the dim light. “You hurt Eldrin! Ruk will stop you!” he shouted, slashing at the assassin with surprising speed. His blade found its mark, cutting into the assassin’s arm, drawing a sharp hiss of pain.

The assassin, wounded but still dangerous, lunged again. But Ana was ready. With a swift, brutal strike, she drove her sword through the assassin’s defenses, ending the fight in a single, decisive blow.

The figure crumpled to the floor, the dagger clattering from his lifeless hand.

The room fell silent once more, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows on the walls. Eldrin leaned heavily against the desk, his hand pressed to his side as he tried to steady his breathing. The assassin lay dead at their feet, a shadowy figure sent with a dark purpose.

Ana knelt beside the body, her fingers deftly searching the assassin’s cloak. “This wasn’t just some random thief,” she muttered, pulling a small black emblem from the folds of the cloak. The emblem was marked with strange, intricate symbols—symbols that Eldrin vaguely recognized from his master’s book.

“They came for the book,” Eldrin whispered, realization sinking in.

Ruk, still shaken but resolute, looked up at him. “Ruk saved Eldrin.”

Eldrin gave a faint smile, nodding. “Yes, Ruk. You did.”

Ana stood, holding the emblem up to the dim light. “We need answers,” she said, her voice filled with grim determination. “And I have a feeling this is only the beginning.”

Eldrin, still clutching his wound, looked at the fallen assassin and then thought about the book hidden beneath the loose stone in his room. The secrets his master had left behind, the connection to Sha'kar, the shadowy figure in the Spire—it all pointed to something far larger, and far more dangerous, than he had ever anticipated.

But for now, they were alive. And tomorrow, they would begin their search for answers.