Chapter 2
As the sun dipped low on the horizon, the cobblestone streets of Arcaun glowed in a soft golden hue, shadows stretching long across the worn stones. The town was alive with the faint laughter of children playing, a sound almost painfully ordinary after the horrors the knights had witnessed. Yet amidst the tranquil hum of evening life, the silver armored knights marched with solemn precision, the weight of failure pressing heavily upon their shoulders. Their armor, once gleaming, was now marred with scratches and grime, a visible reminder of the battle they had fought and lost.
Azre felt the sting of guilt gnawing at her heart, each step echoing the life they could not save. Her fingers brushed against her broadsword unconsciously, the memory of the dungeon's cold stone and Garin's broken form haunting her mind. She could still hear his desperate cries, still see the final flicker of hope extinguished far too soon. She clenched her jaw, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.
Behind her, Rowan and Thalia, two young knights with determination shining in their eyes despite exhaustion, carried the lifeless body of Garin. The lumberjack's once strong frame now lay limp between them, a grim reminder of the darkness lurking beyond Arcaun's borders. The dungeon they had ventured into was not merely a place it had been a maw of despair, swallowing hope with every echoing step. They walked with a somber grace, their faces etched with grief and respect.
Eldhar, steadfast and composed as always, noticed Azre's turmoil. He fell into stride beside her, his armor clinking softly with each step. He observed her closely, his eyes filled with concern.
"It wasn't anyone's fault, Azre," he said, his voice calm yet carrying a weight that demanded trust. "We did what we could. Sometimes, fate is beyond our control." He reached out, gently touching her arm.
Azre shook her head, frustration flaring. "But we were supposed to save him! We failed him, Dad." Her voice rose, echoing faintly against the town walls. She felt a surge of anger, a burning desire to make things right.
Eldhar sighed, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "We may not have saved Garin, but we saved others. Remember that. Every life we protect is a victory, even if it doesn't feel like it right now." He ruffled her hair in a rare gesture of affection, drawing a faint flush to her cheeks. Azre swatted his hand away, embarrassed as the other knights glanced back at them, offering quiet smiles of support. She appreciated their concern, but she needed to prove herself, to show them that she was capable of handling the responsibilities of a knight.
"Enough! I'm not a child anymore!" she snapped, her fierce gaze challenging anyone who dared question her resolve. She straightened her shoulders, her eyes burning with determination.
The knights resumed their march, the camaraderie of shared mission briefly overshadowed by the weight of loss. Silence lingered, punctuated only by the soft clatter of armor and the distant murmur of townsfolk. The air was thick with sorrow, a palpable sense of grief that hung over the town like a shroud.
Hours later, they arrived in Arcaun. The town bustled with life merchants shouting their wares, the smell of roasted bread drifting in the air, children chasing each other between stalls. But the laughter faded when the townsfolk saw the bier carried between the knights. One by one, voices quieted, and sorrow washed through the square like a ripple on still water. The townsfolk bowed their heads in respect, their faces etched with grief and sympathy.
At the center of the square stood the town chief, a stout man with a weathered face and kind eyes, whose heart had long been known for its compassion. Eldhar stepped forward, recounting their harrowing tale and the grim fate of Garin. The chief listened with solemn attention, nodding as the details unfolded. He absorbed every word, his face growing increasingly grim.
"You did what you could, brave knights," the chief said, his voice steady and filled with respect. "We are grateful for your efforts, even in loss. Garin may be gone, but his spirit will live on in our hearts." He clasped his hands together, bowing slightly in acknowledgment of their courage. He offered them a weary smile, his eyes filled with gratitude.
At the chief's signal, Garin's body was laid upon a bier of polished wood at the center of the square. The people gathered in silence, a hush that seemed to stretch across the whole town. One by one, the knights stepped forward, each offering a bloom of the Veylora flower a rare blossom found only in Arcaun's shaded valleys. Its petals glowed faintly blue at dusk, as though holding a fragment of starlight within them. For generations, Veylora had been placed upon the bodies of the departed, its glow said to guide lost souls safely into the beyond. The flowers were a symbol of hope, a promise of peace in the afterlife.
Rowan placed his flower gently across Garin's chest, his lips moving in quiet prayer. He closed his eyes, offering a silent blessing. Thalia's hand trembled as she set hers down, whispering Garin's name under her breath. She wiped away a tear, her heart aching with grief. Eldhar lingered longer than the others, brushing his hand against Garin's brow before leaving his bloom, his face carved with stoic grief. He stood for a moment, lost in thought, before turning away.
At last, Azre approached. Her hand shook as she held the flower, memories flashing Garin's booming laugh in the tavern, his strong arms splitting logs with ease, his desperate cries echoing in the dungeon. For a moment she faltered, then lowered the Veylora carefully upon his heart. "Your courage will never be forgotten," she whispered, her words trembling into the silence. She closed her eyes, offering a silent apology.
The bier glowed faintly under the weight of the flowers, a beacon of blue light shining softly in the gathering dark, as if the town itself held its breath in reverence. The light seemed to emanate from the flowers themselves, a testament to their magical properties.
A cry broke the stillness. Zian, Garin's wife, pushed through the crowd, her tear streaked face crumpling as she rushed forward. She collapsed against Azre, sobbing. "Please… you brought him back to us." Her voice was choked with grief, her body wracked with sobs.
Azre held her tightly, whispering, "I'm so sorry. I promise his soul will be honored." She felt Zian's pain, her grief, her despair.
From behind Zian, a small girl stepped forward, clinging to a wooden horse. "Azre?" the girl asked, her voice trembling. She looked up at Azre with wide, tear filled eyes.
Azre knelt, her heart aching. "Yes… I'm here. What's your name?" She reached out, gently touching the girl's cheek.
"Nina," the girl whispered. "Father… is he…?" She hesitated, unable to voice the question that haunted her.
Azre swallowed hard, her throat tightening. "He was brave, Nina. And that bravery will live in you." She offered the girl a sad smile, her heart breaking for her loss.
The child's eyes filled with tears. Zian placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder, nodding to Azre through her grief. "You saved us once. We trust you still." She looked at Azre with a mixture of gratitude and despair.
Azre bowed her head, the vow settling heavy in her chest. "I will not fail you again." She made a promise, a vow to protect them from the darkness that threatened to consume them all.
Later, as the knights prepared to depart, a merchant slipped through the dispersing crowd to Rowan's side. His eyes darted nervously, as though speaking treason in the safety of his own town. He clutched a worn leather pouch, his hands trembling.
"Sir Rowan," he whispered. "There are bandits on the road to Ethille. A caravan was struck last week. They say the leader bears a skull tattoo on his forehead. Different than common thieves. More… organized." He lowered his voice, his words barely audible. "They say they're not just after gold, but something else… something far more valuable."
Rowan's jaw tightened. He gave a short nod, glancing toward Eldhar. The concern in his eyes spoke louder than words. He knew that they had to investigate, to protect the innocent.
With their respects paid, the knights mounted their horses. The crowd parted silently, watching as they rode away into the deepening twilight. The banners of their order rippled in the cooling wind, carrying both sorrow and resolve into the night. They rode with a grim determination, their hearts heavy with grief and a sense of impending danger.
Far behind them, deep within the ruins of the dungeon, silence reigned. The altar lay shattered, torches long extinguished. For hours, the chamber held only stillness. The air was thick with the scent of decay and despair, a palpable sense of malice.
Then, stone shifted. Pebbles scattered. Slowly, something rose from beneath the rubble. Crooked. Unnatural. Its silhouette bent and swaying as though a corpse forced to relearn the act of standing. The creature was a grotesque parody of life, its body twisted and broken.
The moon's pale glow filtered down through the cracks, painting its shadow across the broken walls. Its head tilted back. Its eyes, once lifeless, now glowed with an eerie green light.
A scream erupted harsh, broken, not fully human nor beast. It echoed through the stone halls, clawed at the roots of trees above, and spilled into the star strewn night. The sound was a symphony of pain and suffering, a testament to the horrors that lurked in the darkness.
The stars did not blink. The moon did not waver. The forest shuddered as birds startled from their nests, scattering into the dark. Even the crickets fell silent, as though the world itself recoiled. The creature's scream seemed to silence the very world around it.
And then, as the last echoes faded, all the sound was swallowed by the night itself. The creature stood alone in the darkness, its eyes burning with a malevolent intent.