The sun fell below the rolling hills, and long golden shadows stretched across the tiny mixed kingdom village of Eldergrove. Smoke trailed slowly from chimneys, bearing the scent of fresh bread, roasted meat, and herbs. Children's giggles floated between the streets as nightfall was prepared for, the pace of everyday life as constant and reassuring as the river running at the edge of the town.
Kael Veyran, who was nineteen and had dark, rumpled hair and piercing green eyes, stood on the porch steps of his family home. His longsword, where his family crest was etched, leaned against the porch. While it was shiny and ready, it saw little actual combat. Tonight, though, he could feel unspoken obligations weighing on his shoulders.
"Elira," he said softly, "come assist me with the remainder of the firewood."
His nineteen-year-old twin sister appeared with a small stack of logs. Her amber-colored eyes glowed warmly, her quiet presence a gentle talisman against the whirl of evening work. "Kael, don't overexert yourself. Father told you to rest as well."
Kael smiled, tousling her hair. "Rest can wait. There's always something to be done in Eldergrove."
The brothers walked in practiced cadence, piling firewood against the fire pit. Their guffaws blended with the distant cries of vendors shuttering their shops, the regular clang of horseshoes on stone, and the gentle churning of birds roosting for the evening.
Within their warm cabin, their parents cooked dinner. Kael's father, Darrion Veyran, a warrior swordsman and honored villager, laid steaming plates of stew before them on the table. His commanding presence was balanced by his gentleness, something that Kael privately attempted to imitate.
"Kael, Elira," he told them, smiling warmly, "eat well this evening. Tomorrow is workday, and there is no shame in taking comfort while it is ours."
Kael's mother, Marella Veyran, hummed as she stirred vegetables in a great pot. Her hands moved with practiced ease, the aroma of herbs and spices wafting through the room. "And Kael," she said quietly, "do not forget that your strength is not just in your sword. Guard your heart, too, for the people you love."
Kael swallowed hard, the gravity of her words sinking in. "I. I will, Mother. Always.
Elira smiled, placing her hand over his. "We'll protect each other. Always."
Outside, five of Kael's closest childhood friends were gathered by the riverbank, throwing small rocks into the water and laughing as the ripples spread.
Taren, the mischievous leader of their group, always had a trick up his sleeve.
Milo, quiet and clever, a boy who loved tinkering with gadgets.
Soren, big-hearted and protective, with a laugh that could shake the trees.
Lia, clever and agile, a girl with a dash of adventurous mischief.
Renn, analytical and measured, usually the one to temper the others' enthusiasm when they overstepped.
Kael arrived, resting on his longsword and grinning. "Another night by the river… who knew peace could be so exhausting?"
Taren chuckled. "Peace is boring! Let's have fun before nightfall!"
The friends laughed and ran and kept secrets, without suspecting that the shadow hanging over Eldergrove was more tangible than any childhood game.
At dusk, a chill wind raked the village. The trees murmured, leaves shaking abnormally. Birds took flight from the limbs, their shrieks ringing the air. Kael stopped in mid-step, catching the change in the air.
"Elira… do you feel that?" he questioned, his tone hushed.
Elira nodded, brow furrowed. "Something's… off. The air is thick, nearly. choking."
Distantly, a low growl drifted through the forest around Eldergrove. Unnatural shadows twisted and writhed, and Kael clutched his sword tighter.
Out of darkness came monsters—giant, clawed, snarling creatures only spoken of in legend as the Corrupted Ones. Their eyes were red-glowing, teeth jagged and venom-dripping. The village, once so quiet, was turned into a hunting ground.