The sun dipped low over Stonebridge, casting long shadows that stretched across the village square. Eamon stood in the center, surrounded by a small circle of eager faces. The children and a few teenagers gazed at him with a mix of anticipation and frustration. The red stone was in the center of the wide circle.

"Close your eyes," Eamon instructed gently. "Feel the energy in the stone. Try to sense the energy flowing through it."

They obeyed, scrunching their eyes shut, brows furrowed in concentration. A soft breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, and the distant murmur of villagers winding down for the evening provided a tranquil backdrop.

Minutes ticked by. Eamon watched them intently, hoping to see a spark of realization, a sign that someone had connected with the elusive mana. But one by one, their shoulders slumped.

"This isn't working," Finn muttered, kicking at a pebble. "I don't feel anything."

Lila opened one eye, peeking at Eamon. "Maybe we're doing it wrong?"

Maeve sighed softly. "We've been trying for days, and none of us have sensed anything. Eamon, are you sure we're not missing something?"

Eamon ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of their disappointment. "I wish I knew another way," he admitted. "When I first sensed the mana, it just... happened. I can't explain it better than that."

"Maybe it's just you," a younger boy grumbled. "Maybe we're not meant to use magic."

"Don't say that," Lila retorted. "Eamon believes in us."

He offered her a grateful smile but couldn't shake the nagging doubt creeping into his own mind. Am I leading them astray?

"Perhaps we should take a break for today," Maeve suggested, her tone gentle. "Clear our minds and try again tomorrow."

The group dispersed slowly, murmuring among themselves. Eamon watched them go, his heart heavy. He wanted so desperately to help them unlock the same potential he had discovered, but he was at a loss.

As the last of the students left, Eamon retrieved the red stone from his pocket. Its surface gleamed faintly in the fading light. For days, he had been trying to understand it, spending every spare moment focusing on the subtle energy it emitted.

He closed his eyes, holding the stone tightly. This time, he let his mind drift, not forcing the connection but simply being open to whatever the stone might reveal. He felt a warmth emanating from it, a gentle pulse that seemed to synchronize with his heartbeat.

But just as he began to delve deeper, a commotion stirred at the edge of the village.

"Eamon!" Tomas shouted, running toward him, breathless. "You need to come quickly!"

Alarmed, Eamon slipped the stone back into his pouch. "What's wrong?"

"There's a group approaching from the east. The lookouts spotted them a few minutes ago. Everyone's gathering at the main road."

Eamon's pulse quickened. "Any idea who they are?"

"We don't know yet. Merrick wants everyone on alert."

They sprinted toward the village entrance, where a crowd had already formed. Villagers clutched makeshift weapons—pitchforks, clubs, a few old swords handed down through generations and some of the newer ones they recently crafted. The tension was palpable.

Garret stood at the forefront, his posture rigid despite his healing injuries. "Stay behind me," he instructed Eamon firmly.

Eamon nodded, peering over his father's shoulder. In the distance, figures emerged—stumbling, weary, and clearly unarmed.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

"Wait," Merrick called out, raising a hand. "They're not attacking."

As the group drew closer, their condition became apparent. Clothes torn and dirty, faces etched with exhaustion and terror, they looked like they had been through a nightmare.

"Please," a woman cried out, her voice hoarse. "We need help."

The villagers exchanged glances, the initial fear giving way to concern.

"Let them through," Merrick said softly.

They parted to allow the newcomers into the village. Eamon stepped forward to assist a young boy who was limping, his leg wrapped in a bloodied cloth.

"What happened to you?" Eamon asked gently.

"Bandits," the boy whispered, his eyes hollow. "They came at dawn... burned everything."

A murmur spread through the crowd. Mothers clutched their children tighter, and men set their jaws grimly.

"How many were there?" Garth inquired, his expression grave.

"Dozens," an older man replied, his hands trembling. "They showed no mercy. We barely escaped with our lives."

Eamon felt a knot tighten in his stomach. Ever since he explored the ruins, the world outside seems to be changing. Corpses, strange creatures, and now bandit attacks. It felt like the world beyond Stonebridge was changing, becoming more dangerous by the day.

"Bring them food and water," Elara instructed, stepping forward with a reassuring smile. "We'll tend to your wounds."

As the villagers moved to assist the survivors, a heated discussion erupted among the elders.

"We can't just take in every stray that comes our way," a man named Horace argued, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "We have our own to worry about."

"Have some compassion," Elara retorted sharply. "They're people in need."

"Resources are limited," Horace shot back. "What happens when the bandits follow them here?"

"They wouldn’t dare," another villager said, but the tremor in his voice was quite noticeable. “I mean our village isn’t near the border. They wouldn’t dare venture so far forward.”

There was a chorus of “yes” and “that’s right” but the sense of unease remained.

Elara glanced between them, frustration bubbling up. "Turning them away would be condemning them to death," she interjected. "Look at them. They can barely stand. The nearest city is ten days on foot. The way they are, they won’t last ten minutes. We can't lose our humanity out of fear."

Merrick raised a hand to quell the rising tempers. "We must find a balance. Offering shelter is the right thing to do, but we must also bolster our defenses."

Reluctantly, the dissenters fell silent.

As the survivors were settled into temporary shelters on the outskirts of the village, Eamon couldn't shake the unease gnawing at him. He found Maeve near the well, drawing water.

"This is worse than we thought," he said quietly.

She nodded, her eyes reflecting the same worry he felt. "You don’t think they will attack us, do you?"

"Doesn’t matter. Either way, we need to be prepared," Eamon stated, determination hardening his voice. "We can't rely on luck."

Maeve studied him for a moment. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm going to intensify my training," he replied. "And I need to find a way to help the others progress. We need every advantage we can get."

She placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "You're not alone in this. We'll figure it out together."

Over the next few days, the atmosphere in Stonebridge grew increasingly tense. The villagers worked tirelessly to reinforce the perimeter—erecting barricades, setting up watch rotations, and stockpiling supplies.

Eamon resumed the training sessions, but the frustrations of his students were mounting.

"I've been trying every day," Finn complained, tossing a small stone aside. "Nothing's happening."

"Maybe we're just not capable," Lila admitted softly, her usual enthusiasm dimmed.

Eamon felt their discouragement keenly. "I understand your frustrations," he said. "But magic isn't something that comes easily. It requires patience and persistence."

"Easy for you to say," another boy muttered. "You can do it."

Eamon took a deep breath. "I didn't grasp it overnight.” In a sense he did, but his situation was different and he didn’t want to dishearten them. “It took time for me too."

"Isn't there another way?" Maeve asked, concern etched on her face. "A different method we could try?"

He racked his brain, wishing he had more knowledge. "I wish I knew. I'm still learning myself."

The group fell into a disheartened silence. Eamon clenched his fists, feeling the weight of their expectations. I need to find a solution.

That evening, he retreated to his secluded spot by the river, the red stone heavy in his pocket. The sun cast a warm glow over the water, but he felt no comfort.

He sat cross-legged on the grass, pulling out the stone. For days, he had been trying to unlock its secrets, but progress was slow. Maybe I'm approaching this the wrong way.

He closed his eyes, letting go of his frustrations. Instead of forcing the connection, he allowed himself to simply be—listening to the rhythm of his breath, the gentle lapping of the river, the distant call of birds settling in for the night.

Gradually, he became aware of a subtle warmth spreading from the stone, seeping into his palm and coursing up his arm. It was a delicate sensation, like the first stirrings of a heartbeat.

He focused on that feeling, envisioning the warmth flowing through his veins, intertwining with his own life force. Time seemed to blur as he delved deeper into this meditative state.

A faint glow appeared beneath his closed eyelids, and a soft chime resonated within his mind. Startled, he opened his eyes to see a translucent interface hovering before him.

Ability Unlocked: Blood Reservoir