Silence settled over the room as the clink of mugs and plates faded. Fingers traced the hilt of Godric’s hammer absentmindedly, his gaze distant, lost in thought. Across from him, Solena pulled her knees to her chest, her chin lightly resting on them while she twirled a lock of her dark hair. Her face, still touched with paleness, reflected the unease hanging between them.

A few feet away, Erazon stared down into the remnants of his food, his hands trembling as if still haunted by the echoes of his nightmare. The room held a sense of tension, and Orlithar, ever watchful, glanced between them, his sharp gaze lingering a little longer on Erazon.

Above their heads, Lumi flitted through the air, swinging her tiny sword in wide arcs as if cutting down invisible foes. Despite her playful enthusiasm, the tense situation bore down on the group, a silence too thick to be lifted by her antics.

“That’s quite the vision,” Orlithar said at last, breaking the stillness with his cautious tone. Eyes narrowed, he leaned back slightly, as if trying to piece together the deeper meaning. “If what ye’re saying is true... could the Nightmare have been helpin’ ye?”

The question hung in the air like a lingering cloud. Erazon frowned, gripping the table’s edge a bit tighter as he shook his head slowly. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice uncertain. “I never sensed it... but right before I heard your clap, I was about to open another memory. Something about it felt... important. Like it was holding something I needed.”

Concern deepened across Solena’s features as she leaned in, her voice edged with worry. “Are you sure they were your memories? You mentioned fighting demons with a red blade, a beast devouring the land, and then teaching about pacts?” Her gaze darkened. “If the Wild-Wizard sent that Nightmare, how can we trust any of it? What if he’s trying to trick you into believing something false?”

Arms crossed over his broad chest, Godric leaned forward, a deep scowl creasing his brow. “She’s got a point,” he said, his voice gravelly. “What if those memories weren’t even yours? Could be a trap, something to lead you into a worse situation.”

Visions from the nightmare churned through his mind, playing over and over like a reel he couldn’t stop. The battlefield, the towering beast, the whispers of pacts—it all felt too vivid, too real. “It didn’t feel like a dream,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “But maybe that’s the deception. Maybe that’s the trick.”

Eyes glinting with thought, Orlithar shifted in his seat, his tone softening. “It’s hard to say for certain. Anyone able to control a Nightmare like that is powerful indeed. But real or not, what matters is that ye’re back, eatin’, and in good spirits. That’s what’s important right now.”

The air grew heavier as Orlithar leaned forward again, his voice taking on a graver tone. “What lies ahead won’t be simple. I can’t go with ye this time,” he admitted, his expression hardening. “Carlin needs me. I’ve got to stay and keep the king’s men from poking ‘round again. And there’s the guild to run, mages to train.”

Erazon felt the importance of the mission ahead settle squarely on his shoulders. Not long ago, he had been on the brink of death, then trapped in the depths of a Nightmare. Now, the burden of what lay ahead felt crushing. “So, we’re on our own?” His voice trembled slightly, but he forced it steady.

A small nod of approval came from Orlithar. “Not entirely,” he said. “Ye’ll have help where it’s needed. But the Ghostlands... that’s where true danger lies.”

Shifting in his seat, Erazon tried to push past the tension tightening in his chest. “Is it as bad as they say?” he asked, knowing full well that the answer would not bring him comfort.

“Worse,” came Orlithar’s grim reply. “The Land of Despair is crawling with shadows and horrors. Once ye cross into it, ye’ll be heading for the City of Shadows. And there, yer goal is the gate.”

A whisper escaped Solena as she gripped her cloak more tightly, her voice barely audible. “What gate?”

Darkness seemed to settle further into the room as Orlithar spoke, his words like the weight of a coming storm. “An ancient artifact,” he explained. “Corrupted. It’s what’s drawing creatures of darkness into our world. That gate is why the lands around Carlin are rotting, why everything is dying. Break it, and ye weaken Nyxis—the dark force behind this evil. Without that gate, they can’t cross over so easily.”

Godric’s fist slammed down on the table, rattling the remaining mugs and plates. “And then we rescue Elii,” he said, his voice full of fiery determination.

Orlithar’s gaze softened as it shifted to the warrior. “Aye, lad. But your Elii will be well-guarded. I’d wager she’s not far from Nyxis and the Wild Wizard. Reaching her won’t be easy.”

Jaw clenched, Godric’s face hardened with resolve. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll get her back.”

“Honorable lad,” Orlithar said approvingly, though his eyes remained serious. “But remember, yer goal isn’t to defeat them. Just find Elii and get out. The gate is yer real target. Don’t think ye can face Wild Wizard or Nyxis head-on. And Nox...” He paused, his expression darkening further. “None of ye can face one of the Nine. Not even an Archon could stand against Nox.”

A heavy silence settled over the group, the enormity of their mission sinking in. Erazon’s mind spun, his thoughts flicking to Solena, to Godric, and to the dangers that awaited them. Failure wasn’t an option. Not this time.

From beneath his cloak, Orlithar pulled out a small, engraved bell, its metallic surface gleaming faintly in the dim light. He handed it to Erazon, its surface cold in his palm. “Take this,” he said. “Ring it, and I’ll come. Use it when ye have Elii, and need to escape.”

“This... doesn’t sound easy.” Erazon replied meekly.

Orlithar shook his head slowly. “It won’t be,” he admitted. “The Ghostlands are full of shadows, ghouls, wraiths, and far worse. Ye’ll be walkin’ straight into the heart of hell.”

“I’m ready,” Erazon replied, though a faint tremor remained in his voice. His eyes shifted down to his still-healing wound. “By the time we get there, I’ll be able to fight.”

A gentle hand touched his arm, and Solena’s voice came soft but firm. “Don’t push yourself,” she cautioned, her warmth a contrast to the cold creeping through the room. “Godric and I can handle most of the fighting until you’re ready. You’ve just healed. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Erazon glanced between his companions, meeting Godric’s determined gaze and Solena’s quiet resolve. Gratitude welled up in his chest. “I know my limits,” he said, though uncertainty still danced within his mind. “But if it comes down to it, I’ll hold off Wild-Wizard long enough for us to escape. I won’t let him win this time.”

“That’s the spirit!” Orlithar clapped him on the back with a hearty laugh. “Just remember, lad—know when ta run.”

Solena offered a small smile, though concern lingered in her eyes. “We’ll break the gate. And we’ll bring Elizza back.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

With a scraping sound, Orlithar pushed his chair back and stood, the heavy mood lingering. “A friend of mine waits for ye at the edge of town,” he said, his voice a bit lighter. “Ye’ll know it when ye see it.”

Turning to Godric, he added, “How’s yer father faring?”

Before Godric could respond, Lumi’s excited voice cut in. “He was trying to convince the monks to help him make healing potions! He’s brilliant!” she buzzed, zipping over to Godric’s shoulder.

The warrior smiled faintly, though his eyes glistened slightly. “He was proud when I told him about awakening my sight. Sent me to pick up some potions he kept hidden for the road. He won’t admit it, but I think he was holding back tears.”

“Well done, lad,” Orlithar said warmly. “I’ll visit him after ye leave. While his shop’s being repaired, I’ll open up the guild’s resources to him. Carlin will need all the help it can get.”

Curiosity gleamed in Solena’s eyes as she leaned forward. “Who’s this friend of yours? And when do we leave?”

A chuckle rumbled from Orlithar as he met her eager gaze. “Ye’ll find out soon enough, lass.” Turning back to Erazon, his eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief. “While ye were resting, I took care of yer friends. Godric’s got new armor, and yer fiery friend here a new dress. But for ye, lad... I’ve got something special.”

The winding stone stairwell leading to the guildmaster’s chambers felt colder the higher they climbed. Silence clung to the halls, the world outside feeling more distant with each step. Erazon’s heart pounded, the weight of their mission pressing heavily on his mind, though Orlithar’s steady presence kept him grounded.

At the top of the stairs, they came to a halt before a mannequin draped in elven armor—dark green with intricate, angular lines that seemed to whisper of power. The hooded cape, embroidered with delicate golden patterns, added a touch of elegance to its otherwise lethal appearance. The craftsmanship was unlike anything Erazon had seen before, sleek yet strong, built for both agility and protection.

“This...” Erazon’s voice caught in his throat as his eyes ran over the armor.

“Belonged to a dear friend of mine,” Orlithar explained, his smile tinged with sadness. “An elven mage of great renown. But it’s time it found a new owner. I think ye’ll find it suits ye just right.”

Erazon hesitated, shaking his head slightly. “I can’t accept this. It’s worth more than I could ever repay. I’ve got nothing to offer in return.”

“Bah,” Orlithar waved off his concern. “Ye saved me from a fate worse than death, lad. Consider this a token of thanks. Besides, ye’ll need it for where ye’re goin’.”

Still reluctant, Erazon reached out, his hand hovering over the smooth surface of the armor. “It’s too much.”

“Nonsense.” Orlithar’s tone shifted to a firm kindness. “This isn’t just armor—it’s survival. And ye’ll want these boots as well.” He motioned toward a pair of plain black leather boots.

“They look... ordinary,” Erazon remarked, raising an eyebrow.

Orlithar’s eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “Ah, but they’re enchanted. Yer footsteps will be silent, no matter where ye tread. Perfect for sneaking about in the lands to come.”

A smile tugged at Erazon’s lips. “That’ll come in handy.”

With a hearty clap on his back, Orlithar gestured toward a door down the hall. “Get yerself cleaned up in me private bath. Don’t tell the others—they’re a bit too ripe fer my taste. Take yer time, and come down lookin’ sharp. Ye might want ta impress the lass, eh?”

Heat rushed to Erazon’s face, and he stammered, “It’s not like that!”

Orlithar’s laughter echoed down the corridor. “Ah, lad, first lie ye’ve told since ye’ve been here. I see how ye look at her. Love’s no weakness. It’s strength. Protect her. Keep her close.”

The words struck deeper than Erazon had expected. His thoughts drifted to Solena, to Godric, and to the task that loomed ahead of them. “I... I understand. I’ll protect them both. I’ll bring Elizza back. And I’ll find a way to end Wild-Wizard.”

Orlithar’s smile faded into something more serious, his gaze sharpening. “I believe in ye, lad. There’s power in ye, more than ye realize. Tap into it when the time comes.”

With a firm nod, Erazon felt the weight of his promise settle over him, as heavy as the armor itself. “I won’t fail.”

“Good. Now off ye go,” Orlithar urged, gesturing toward the bath. “I’ll see ye downstairs.”

Descending the stairs, Erazon felt lighter than he had in days. The elven armor clung to him like a second skin, its lightweight fabric moving with him effortlessly, but sturdy enough to provide ample protection. Every step was silent, just as Orlithar had promised—the enchanted boots muffling even the faintest of noises.

As he entered the hall where the others waited, Solena looked up, her breath catching for a moment. “Erazon, you... you look...”

Godric’s booming laugh broke the brief silence, his hand clapping Erazon’s shoulder. “Looking like a proper warrior now! About time!”

Lumi flitted up to Erazon’s face, her tiny wings buzzing with excitement. “Now we all look like heroes!” she declared with a proud grin.

Orlithar appeared at the doorway, his booming laughter filling the room. “Well now, look at ye! Yer carriage awaits, heroes of Carlin!”

Outside the west gate, a crowd had gathered to see them off. Murmurs of gratitude and awe filled the air as the group passed, their armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. Carlin’s citizens now looked at them not as mere adventurers, but as heroes on a perilous journey.

At the gate, a dark carriage awaited, pulled by two majestic black horses whose hooves glowed faintly with magic. Intricate runes shimmered along the sleek wooden frame of the carriage, the air around it humming with energy.

The old dwarf at the reins grinned widely. “The heroes of Carlin, eh? Hop in, hop in! I’ll get ye to the edge of the Ghostlands. No further, mind ye.”

Squeezing into the carriage, the group jostled for space. Godric’s armor clinked loudly as he tried to settle in, his bulk crowding Solena.

“Ow! Godric, move over!” Solena protested, her voice muffled as she shifted.

“Alright, alright!” Godric grinned. “Sit next to Erazon, then.”

Meanwhile, Lumi had already claimed her spot on one of the horses, her tiny sword held aloft. “I am the horsemaster!” she declared, her voice ringing out with pride.

The old dwarf chuckled, cracking the reins. “Ye’ll want to hold on tight. This’ll be a bumpy ride.”

With a sudden jolt, the carriage shot forward, magic crackling through the air as the horses sped down the dirt road. Colors blurred outside the window, and the group was thrown about in their seats, their bodies bouncing with each violent lurch.

“By the Nine!” Godric shouted, gripping the sides of the carriage as his armor rattled loudly.

Solena clung to Erazon’s arm, her face growing pale as the ride became increasingly chaotic. “If this doesn’t kill me, my stomach will,” she muttered into Erazon’s cloak.

Despite the rough ride, Erazon managed a grin, holding Solena close to steady her as the carriage thrashed wildly. Outside, the landscape began to change. Bright farmland gave way to something darker—something twisted.

Golden fields of crops withered into patches of blackened soil. Trees that had once stood tall and proud now twisted into grotesque shapes, their branches clawing toward the sky like skeletal fingers. The sun disappeared behind thick clouds, casting the world in an ominous gray light. A chill swept through the air, bringing with it the smell of rot and decay.

“Gods…” Solena’s voice was a whisper as she peeked out of the cloak. “The land... it’s dying.”

Erazon’s heart sank as he took in the desolation. Houses stood abandoned, their roofs collapsed and walls crumbling. Fences were broken and rotted, leaning haphazardly along the road.

Godric wiped his brow, shaking his head. “I’ve heard the stories, but seeing it...”

Lumi flitted back to the carriage, her voice still chipper despite the grim scenery. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect us from the spooky shadows!” But the tremor in her voice betrayed her own nerves.

The road ahead grew darker still. The trees thinned out, replaced by barren ground, cracked and dry as if cursed. Gravestones dotted the landscape, their inscriptions long worn away by time. In the distance, shadows flickered between the stones, but whether they were real or imagined, no one could tell.

Godric’s hand rested on the hilt of his hammer, his voice low and grim. “This is what we’re up against...”

The carriage began to slow as the horses’ glowing hooves dimmed, the magic ebbing away. With a final jolt, the ride came to a stop, leaving the group in stunned silence.

Turning in his seat, the dwarf flashed another grin. “This is where I leave ye.”

“Wait, what?” Erazon blinked, still reeling from the ride. “You’re just—”

Before he could finish, the carriage, horses, and dwarf vanished in a flash of blue light, leaving the group to stumble forward and crash unceremoniously onto the dirt road. Solena landed with a groan, while Godric, his armor clanging, rolled onto his back.

Hovering in the air, Lumi mimed riding her invisible horse, giggling. “Bwahaha! I am still the horsemaster!”

Godric scrambled to his feet, muttering under his breath. “That blasted dwarf…”

Solena pushed herself up, brushing dirt from her cloak. “Of course we get dumped like this,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Erazon rose, offering Solena a hand as they dusted themselves off. “That was... definitely something.”

As they gathered their bearings, the reality of their surroundings settled in. The air was thick with the scent of rot and decay, a cold wind whipping across the barren land. In every direction stretched the Ghostlands—a desolate wasteland of death and shadow.