The morning sun had barely risen, casting long shadows across the forest floor as Eamon trudged forward, his mind heavy with thoughts of the Silverleaf. His provisions were running low, and though the venison he had hunted the previous day had given him strength, he knew time was against him. His father’s condition was worsening, and every hour spent in the wilderness felt like a countdown.

As he surveyed the area, his thoughts turned to his Blood Reservoir. For the past few days, he had been using the ability to enhance his endurance and strength in small, measured doses. It had been effective, but limited. He knew there was more potential locked within the ability—if only he could tap into it fully.

What if I tried to use all of the stored energy at once? The thought had been nagging at him ever since his initial discovery of the ability. He had been cautious, using it sparingly, but what if he pushed himself further? What if he could harness all the energy in his blood at once for a massive boost in strength?

The idea excited him. If I can do it, I’ll be unstoppable. He could end a fight quickly, overpower his enemies with brute force. But he also knew the risks. The Blood Reservoir wasn’t without its dangers. Overuse could leave him weakened—or worse.

Taking a deep breath, Eamon steadied himself. It’s worth the risk.

He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar pulse of mana coursing through his veins. Warmth filled his muscles as he absorbed mana from the surroundings, filling him with a subtle sense of power. Slowly, he began to channel the energy from his Blood Reservoir, drawing on the stored reserves within his blood. The familiar sensation of enhanced strength flooded his limbs, but this time, he didn’t stop. He kept pulling more energy, forcing the reservoir to empty faster.

His muscles tensed, his veins bulged slightly as the power coursed through him. He felt his body grow stronger, his senses sharpening. The world around him seemed to slow, and for a moment, he felt invincible.

But as he tried to push further, something pushed back. A searing pain shot through his body, his muscles protesting the strain. He grit his teeth, forcing himself to continue, willing the energy to surge beyond its limits. Sweat poured down his face, his vision blurred at the edges, and his heart pounded in his chest like a war drum.

More. I need more. He pulled harder, trying to force the reservoir to release all of its power at once.

But it wouldn’t come. The energy flow stopped, like hitting a wall. No matter how much he tried to push, his body simply couldn’t handle it. He staggered back, gasping for air as the pain intensified.

"Argh!" he cried out, clutching his chest. His muscles screamed in protest, and his head spun with dizziness. It felt like his body was tearing itself apart from the inside.

Panting heavily, Eamon collapsed to one knee, his vision swimming. The strength he had gained was significant, but it wasn’t the overwhelming surge he had hoped for. The boost was modest—more than his usual enhancements, but far less than the power he had sought.

"I… I couldn’t do it." He clenched his fists, frustration coursing through him.

After a few minutes of catching his breath, the pain subsided, leaving him feeling drained but not defeated. He had pushed too hard too fast. Clearly, the Blood Reservoir had its limits, and he wasn’t ready to break through them yet.

"One step at a time," he muttered, rising slowly to his feet. His body ached, but he could still move. At least I know I can push it further. I just need more control.

With a newfound, albeit modest, boost to his strength and stamina, Eamon continued his journey, pressing further into the wilderness. His body ached from the constant use of magic, and his mind was beginning to fray under the strain, but he pushed forward. There was no room for failure.

After several hours of travel, the forest began to change. The air grew colder, the trees taller and denser, their trunks twisted and gnarled. The ground beneath him became rocky, and he knew he was nearing the area Seraphine had described—the place where the Silverleaf grew.

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He scanned the underbrush carefully, his eyes searching for the telltale shimmer of the plant’s silvery leaves. The terrain was rough, the rocks jagged and uneven, making the climb difficult. Eamon’s legs burned as he scaled a steep incline, but he refused to slow down.

At the top of the ridge, he paused to catch his breath. His gaze swept over the landscape below—a rocky outcropping that led to a small, shadowed valley. And there, nestled between two large boulders, he spotted it.

Silverleaf.

The plant was delicate, its leaves shimmering with a faint silvery glow that made it stand out against the dark earth. Eamon’s heart leapt with relief as he hurried down the slope toward it. The plant looked exactly as Seraphine had described—its slender stems swaying gently in the breeze.

He knelt beside the Silverleaf, careful not to damage it as he began to harvest the leaves. His fingers moved quickly but gently, and as he worked, a sense of accomplishment washed over him. This is it. The cure for his father. The hope his village needed.

As he finished gathering the leaves, a faint rustling sound reached his ears. Eamon froze, his hand hovering over the last of the Silverleaf. His senses sharpened instantly. The forest had grown unnaturally quiet—no birds, no insects. Just the rustle of leaves behind him.

Slowly, he turned.

Emerging from the shadows of the forest was a creature—a hulking, twisted thing with blackened, matted fur and glowing red eyes. It moved with unnatural grace, its massive claws sinking into the earth with every step. Eamon’s breath caught in his throat. It was eerily similar to the beast that had attacked near DartRidge. Its skeletal frame and gaunt features sent a shiver down his spine.

It’s eyes were glued to him and it almost felt like it ghastly mouth widened into a grin.

Was it waiting for me? he thought in disbelief. His mind raced with questions, but there was no time for answers.

This time, there was no one else with him. No Merrick, no villagers, no one to help.

The beast growled, its eyes locking onto him with murderous intent.

Eamon’s muscles tensed as he dropped the Silverleaf into his pouch and drew his dagger. He felt the Blood Reservoir pulsing within him, still recovering from his earlier attempt to unleash its full power. He didn’t have the luxury of holding back this time.

The beast roared, its powerful legs propelling it forward with terrifying speed.

Eamon reacted instinctively, summoning the wind to his side. He twisted to the left, the air swirling around him, pushing him out of the beast’s path just in time. The creature’s claws gouged deep furrows into the ground where he had been standing moments before.

It’s faster than I expected. Eamon barely had time to think as the beast whipped around, snarling. Its red eyes gleamed with hunger, its breath hot and rancid.

He knew he couldn’t outrun it. He would have to fight.

Summoning the Wind, Eamon directed it to his dagger, creating a thin edge around the blade. The magic hummed through him, making the dagger sharp enough to cut through almost anything.

The beast charged again, and this time Eamon met it head-on. He dodged low, aiming for the creature’s exposed underbelly. His wind-enhanced dagger struck true, slicing through its tough hide, but the wound wasn’t deep enough to slow it down.

The creature howled in rage, swiping at him with one massive claw. Eamon barely managed to jump back, the wind carrying him just out of reach.

But the creature was relentless. It charged again, its movements faster and more erratic. Eamon ducked and weaved, using the wind to keep himself just ahead of its attacks, but the strain was mounting. His body was still recovering from his earlier attempt to push the Blood Reservoir, and every movement sent sharp pains through his limbs.

The beast lunged again, and this time Eamon wasn’t fast enough. Its claws raked across his arm, tearing through his sleeve and drawing blood.

"Argh!" Eamon hissed in pain, stumbling back. He clutched his arm, feeling the warm blood seep through his fingers. I can’t keep this up.

He had to end this quickly.

Desperate, Eamon focused on his Blood Reservoir, pulling on the energy he had left. He didn’t try to use it all this time—just enough to give him a boost. The warmth spread through his limbs, his muscles strengthening as the pain in his arm dulled slightly.

With a surge of power, he lunged forward, his wind-enhanced dagger slicing through the air. The beast snarled, but this time, Eamon didn’t falter. He drove the dagger deep into its throat, the wind propelling the blade with lethal force.

The creature staggered, its body convulsing as blood poured from the wound. With a final, gurgling snarl, it collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Eamon stumbled back, gasping for breath. His body ached, and his arm throbbed with pain, but he had done it. The beast was dead.

As he stood over the creature’s corpse, his eyes caught a glint of red—just like the last time. Embedded in the beast’s chest, near the wound, was a small red stone, pulsing faintly with an eerie glow.

Eamon knelt down, gingerly pulling the stone from the creature’s flesh. It was warm to the touch, and as he held it in his hand, he felt a strange sense of unease. What are these?

Tucking the stone into his pouch alongside the Silverleaf, Eamon stood and took one last look at the fallen creature.

I need to get back to the village.

He had the Silverleaf, and now, more questions than ever.