The journey to Aeryndral was a trial in itself. The path wound through thick forests, shadowed by towering oaks, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers. Caelan’s boots crunched against the dirt, his mind replaying the elders’ condemning words. The sting of rejection sat heavy on his chest, but he pushed forward, the determination in his stride unshaken.

A sudden rustling in the underbrush made him halt. His hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword. From the thicket, a pair of glowing yellow eyes pierced the gloom. A snarling beast—a lone forest wolf—lunged at him. Caelan sidestepped the attack, slashing downward. The blade connected cleanly, and the wolf crumpled to the ground.

As he cleaned his weapon, he muttered under his breath, “Is this all Alderyn can throw at me?”

The thought barely left his mind when a distant howl echoed through the woods. He tightened his grip on his sword and quickened his pace.

By the time Caelan reached the city gates, the sun was beginning to set. Aeryndral was far larger than his village—walls of grey stone loomed high, and two guards stood watch, their armor polished and spears glinting in the fading light.

Caelan’s arrival drew little attention from the bustling merchants and travelers flowing in and out of the gates. The cacophony of voices, clattering carts, and hawking traders was overwhelming at first. Still, his focus remained steady as he navigated through the labyrinthine streets toward the heart of the city, where the Guild of Adventurers resided.

The guild hall was a stark contrast to the solemn streets outside. Warm light spilled out from its large windows, accompanied by the lively chatter of adventurers within. Pushing open the heavy oak doors, Caelan stepped into a world brimming with energy.

Long wooden tables were filled with adventurers of all shapes and sizes, some boasting gleaming armor and enchanted weapons, others wearing tattered cloaks and faded emblems. A massive board stood at the back of the hall, plastered with quests ranging from simple errands to high-stakes dungeon raids.

Caelan made his way to the counter, where a sharp-eyed woman in a fitted black uniform was meticulously writing in a ledger. She looked up as he approached, her expression neutral but professional.

“New?” she asked, her voice cutting through the din with practiced precision.

Caelan nodded. “I want to register.”

“Name?”

“Caelan.”

She arched an eyebrow but didn’t press for more. “All right, Caelan. Basic rules: newcomers start at the lowest rank—Bronze. You’ll need to complete a certain number of tasks before advancing. And don’t die; it’s bad for our reputation.”

He smirked at the dry humor. “Understood.”

She slid a parchment across the counter. “Sign here. For your first mission, there’s a Bronze-level task available: a pack of dire wolves has been causing trouble near the village of Grelmont. Clear them out, and you’ll earn your first rank point. Payment upon proof of completion. Got it?”

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Caelan took the mission slip and nodded. “Got it.”

The forest near Grelmont was eerily silent when Caelan arrived. Shadows stretched long across the ground as the last rays of sunlight faded. Tracking the dire wolves was straightforward; their claw marks marred the trees, and large paw prints sank into the dirt.

The first encounter with the pack was swift. Using his agility and experience, Caelan dispatched the smaller wolves with clean strikes. But when the alpha emerged, his confidence wavered.

The beast was massive, with fur as black as night and eyes that burned with feral intelligence. It circled him, snarling, before charging with terrifying speed.

Caelan barely blocked the attack, the force of the impact sending him skidding backward. The wolf struck again and again, each blow testing the limits of his endurance. Gritting his teeth, he tapped into the curse, letting its power flood his veins.

The shadowy energy coiled around his blade, enhancing his strikes. With a desperate upward slash, he carved through the alpha’s side, leaving it howling in pain. A final thrust ended the battle.

As the alpha’s body collapsed, its fur shimmered briefly, and a shard emerged from its core—a jagged crystal glowing faintly. Caelan stared at it, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

The trek back to Aeryndral was silent, save for the rustle of leaves underfoot. The shard in Caelan’s hand pulsed faintly, its glow almost hypnotic. He couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched. The weight of the shard wasn’t physical—it was something deeper, something that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

Suddenly, the forest seemed darker. Shadows grew longer, and the usual hum of nocturnal life had fallen silent. Caelan stopped, his instincts screaming at him to ready his blade.

“Who’s there?” he called, his voice steady despite the rising tension in his chest.

At first, there was no reply. Then, from the shadows, a figure stepped forward. They wore a hooded cloak, their face obscured except for the faint glow of violet eyes peeking from beneath the hood.

“You wield a shard,” the figure said, their voice calm but laced with something predatory. “Do you even know what you hold, boy?”

Caelan tightened his grip on his sword. “Who are you?”

The figure chuckled, low and chilling. “Merely a watcher…for now. But wielding such power without understanding its cost? Dangerous.”

“I don’t need your lectures,” Caelan snapped, taking a defensive stance. “If you’re here for this shard, you’ll have to fight me for it.”

The figure tilted their head, their amusement evident. “Bold. But reckless.” With a flick of their hand, a surge of dark energy rippled outward. Caelan braced himself, the curse within him reacting instinctively to the presence of such overwhelming power.

The figure didn’t attack, however. They merely observed as Caelan struggled to steady himself against the oppressive force. “Interesting,” they murmured. “Perhaps you’ll survive long enough to understand what’s truly at stake. But know this: the shards are not gifts. They are curses, born of blood and ruin. You are bound to them now, whether you like it or not.”

Before Caelan could respond, the figure dissolved into the shadows, leaving only the faint echo of their words.

By the time Caelan reached the gates of Aeryndral, dawn was breaking, painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. His mind was still reeling from the encounter. Who was that figure? And what did they mean by the shards being curses?

Pushing the thoughts aside, he made his way to the guild hall. The clerk from before was already at the counter, flipping through a ledger. She looked up as he approached, her sharp gaze immediately noticing the shard in his hand.

“You’re back,” she said, her tone carrying a note of surprise. “And you brought a shard. Not bad for your first mission.”

Caelan placed the shard on the counter. “What do you know about these?”

The clerk raised an eyebrow. “Plenty, but it’s not information I’m free to share. Shards are…complicated.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’d best be careful who sees you with that. Some people would kill for it.”

Caelan frowned. “Why assign me a mission involving them, then?”

She shrugged. “You’re an adventurer now. Risk comes with the job. If you can’t handle it, you’re in the wrong place.”

Despite her bluntness, Caelan couldn’t argue. He pocketed the shard and turned to leave, but her next words stopped him in his tracks.

“Word of advice,” she said. “If you want answers about shards, seek out someone who’s dealt with them before. Someone with experience. The guild doesn’t keep records on this sort of thing…but some adventurers might.”

As he walked the crowded streets of Aeryndral, Caelan’s thoughts churned. The shard wasn’t just a token of power—it was a clue, a thread in the tangled web of his cursed existence. Whoever the figure in the forest was, they knew more than they let on.

His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. If the shards were tied to his curse, then finding more of them might be his only chance to uncover the truth—and to break free.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a commotion near the marketplace. A notice board had been updated, and a small crowd of adventurers gathered around it. Pushing through the throng, he scanned the new postings.

One quest stood out:

“Expedition to the Ruins of Eldralis. High danger. High reward. Team required.”