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The Spaces In Between
The Ward of the Fallen

The Ward of the Fallen

Elena

The door creaks as I push it open, stepping into the guild leader’s office. The air inside feels heavy, the scent of old parchment mixing with the faint trace of incense. I was summoned here out of the blue, and something tells me this isn’t just a routine mission.

“Ah, Elena,” a deep voice calls out from the far side of the room. “Good. You’re here.”

I spot Master Faris behind his desk, his sharp eyes studying me over the top of a weathered map. But my gaze shifts to the figure standing just off to the side, near the window. A tall man, lean and muscular, half in shadow. His dark cloak is frayed at the edges, and the hilt of his sword shows the polish of years of use. Rafe. I’ve seen him around the guild before, but we’ve never spoken. He’s half-elf, I think, with the kind of stoic expression that doesn’t invite conversation.

I offer a quick nod in greeting, more to keep things professional than out of any real interest. “You summoned me, Master Faris?”

He gestures for me to sit, then leans back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “I did. Both of you have proven your abilities time and again, and I have an assignment that requires… unique talents.” His gaze moves between Rafe and me. “Together.”

Together? I almost want to laugh, but I keep my mouth shut. Sure, I’ve worked well with others before, but Rafe? He doesn’t exactly scream “team player.” Still, I keep my expression neutral.

Master Faris clears his throat. “There is a relic—an artifact of immense power. It is said to offer protection unlike anything we’ve ever seen, capable of safeguarding entire villages from harm.” His voice takes on a weight that makes me sit up straighter. “If we find it, we could change the course of things for the vulnerable who rely on us.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rafe’s jaw tighten, just barely, as Master Faris speaks of the relic. Arms crossed, he’s still as stone, but there’s a tension there, like he’s bracing himself.

“Your mission,” Faris continues, “is to track it down and retrieve it. Start with the village of Isley, two days’ travel from here. The shopkeeper there—Garrick—has heard rumors, though nothing is certain. He’s a… difficult man, but he may know something. From there, follow whatever leads you uncover.”

Rafe shifts slightly, almost like he’s weighing the words. I glance over at him, noticing the guarded set of his shoulders. There’s more to him than just silence, I realize. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Any questions?” Master Faris asks.

I hesitate. “What do we know about this artifact? Anything beyond the rumors?”

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Master Faris rubs a hand over his beard, his brow furrowing. “Not much. Only that it’s powerful, and likely ancient. Its form isn’t clear, but it could be an amulet or perhaps a shield. No one has seen it in living memory.”

I nod, chewing on my lip. That’s not much to go on, but it’s a start. “We leave at first light then?”

Faris inclines his head. “Yes. The sooner you depart, the better.” He pauses, glancing briefly at Rafe. “I trust this one won’t stir up too many old ghosts, Rafe.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond Faris. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something darker, though it disappears as quickly as it came.

“Well,” I say, standing up, trying to shake off the odd tension in the air. “Looks like we’ve got some ground to cover.”

Rafe gives a barely perceptible nod and turns toward the door, his cloak sweeping behind him. Not one for small talk, clearly.

As I follow him out, I can’t help but wonder just what I’ve gotten myself into.

We step out of Master Faris’s office, the door clicking shut behind us. The hallway is quiet, the usual bustle of the guild a low murmur in the distance. Rafe walks ahead of me, his footsteps barely making a sound as he moves with that same quiet efficiency. I quicken my pace to catch up, falling into step beside him.

“So,” I start, keeping my tone light. “Where should we meet in the morning?”

Rafe doesn’t glance my way. He just keeps walking, his face set in that same unreadable expression. I’m not sure if he’s ignoring me or just lost in thought. Either way, it’s starting to bug me.

“Rafe?” I prompt, this time with a little more bite.

Finally, he looks over at me, his gaze cool but attentive. “We’ll meet at the stables. Dawn.”

Short and to the point. Great.

“Alright,” I say, crossing my arms. “I’ll be there.”

I half expect him to walk off without another word, but he pauses, his eyes studying me like he’s weighing something.

“Be ready for anything,” he says, his voice low. “The Ward of the Fallen is no ordinary relic. This won’t be easy.”

There’s an edge to his voice, something that feels almost personal. I meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow. “I’m always ready,” I say, matching his tone. “Are you?”

A flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—passes through his eyes, and for a split second, he almost looks like he’s about to smile. But then it’s gone, his expression slipping back into that same stony calm. He nods once, a brief acknowledgment, before turning and heading down the hallway.

Just like that, he’s gone.

I exhale, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. This mission is going to be interesting, to say the least. Rafe doesn’t exactly scream “team player,” but I’ve worked with worse. Besides, if this Ward of the Fallen is as powerful as Master Faris thinks, we’ll need every bit of skill between the two of us to find it.

I glance down the hallway where Rafe disappeared, then shake my head with a sigh. Guess I’ll just have to get used to the silent treatment.

Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.

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