The first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, painting the ruined village in pale gold. The night's battle had left the air thick with the smell of scorched stone and damp ash. Broken beams of houses jutted out like skeletal fingers, and the square where the clash had taken place was littered with fissures that still glowed faintly, as though the earth itself remembered the flames.
The protagonist stood at the edge of the square, one hand resting on the hilt of his sheathed sword. His gaze drifted toward the distant forest, where the masked figures had disappeared hours earlier. He could still feel the echo of their dark presence, like a splinter in his thoughts.
"They'll return," he murmured to himself.
Beside him, the little girl stood silently. Her doll dangled from one arm, its cloth singed and dirty. Her eyes were shadowed by exhaustion, but she stood straight, watching the sunrise as if it might wash away the night's horrors.
He crouched down to her level, softening his voice. "We can't stay here. The village isn't safe anymore."
She nodded, her lips pressing together in a thin line. "I don't want to go back to the forest… but I'll go if you say so."
Her quiet bravery stirred something deep in him. He remembered, briefly, his own childhood—how helpless he had felt watching the world fall apart in his previous life. This time, he wouldn't let that happen to someone else.
"We'll find a safer place," he promised. "There's an old road that leads north, toward the mountains. If we can reach the ridge, we might find a settlement."
As they prepared to leave, he glanced once more at the pouch tied to his belt. The crystal—the fragment of the Flame of Origins—lay nestled inside, its glow softer now, as if resting after the night's battle. But he knew it wasn't truly at rest; it was waiting, biding its time.
They set off along a broken path that wound out of the village and into the forest. The early morning air was cool and damp, the leaves heavy with dew. Birdsong began to stir, tentative at first, then more vibrant as the sun climbed higher. It was almost enough to make one forget the darkness that lurked beyond the trees.
Almost.
As they walked, the girl occasionally glanced up at him, as if trying to find the courage to speak. At last, she asked, "What's your name?"
He paused a moment, then replied simply, "Aric." The name felt strange on his tongue—an echo from his past life blended with the identity he was forging anew.
She nodded solemnly. "I'm Lira."
A silence stretched between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The forest canopy filtered the sunlight into scattered beams that danced over the path. For a time, they simply walked, their footsteps the only sound apart from the rustle of the wind.
By midday, they reached the remains of an old stone road, half-buried beneath roots and moss. Aric halted, kneeling to brush away the growth. Beneath his fingers, he felt faint lines etched into the stone—ancient runes, nearly erased by time.
"These roads were built long ago," he murmured. "They carried pilgrims and merchants to the mountain sanctuaries. Now they're just ruins."
Lira crouched beside him, tracing one of the runes with her small finger. "Do you think the mountains are safe?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But we'll find out."
They followed the road as it wound upward through rolling hills. The climb was gentle but steady, and the higher they went, the more the forest thinned, replaced by tall grasses and wildflowers that swayed in the wind. The air grew cooler, fresher, carrying with it a faint tang of minerals from the distant peaks.
As they crested a low ridge, Aric caught sight of something unusual: a crumbled watchtower standing alone on a rocky outcrop. Its stones were blackened with age, and the banners that once hung from its walls had long since rotted away. But the tower's presence was not entirely silent—he could feel a faint hum of energy emanating from it, like a heartbeat hidden in the earth.
He motioned for Lira to stay behind him as they approached. His hand hovered near his sword, senses alert. The wind whispered through the broken stones as they stepped through the arch of what had once been the tower's gate.
Inside, the ruin was empty except for scattered rubble and a single weathered pedestal at its center. The pedestal was cracked but bore the faint outline of a sigil—a flame surrounded by three interlocking circles.
Aric's breath caught. He had seen that sigil before, carved on the underside of the relic's crystal.
"This tower was part of the old guardians' network," he said quietly, more to himself than to Lira. "It must have been linked to the Flame."
Lira tilted her head, curiosity bright in her eyes. "Does that mean it's safe?"
"Not necessarily," Aric replied. "But it might hold clues."
He stepped closer to the pedestal and placed his palm against the sigil. The moment his skin touched the stone, a faint warmth spread from it into his hand. The crystal at his belt responded, pulsing with a matching glow.
A vision flickered at the edge of his mind—an image of the mountains ahead, their peaks shrouded in mist. At their heart, he glimpsed a massive gate of obsidian stone, sealed by chains of fire. The vision faded as quickly as it came, leaving behind only a deep sense of urgency.
Aric withdrew his hand, his expression thoughtful. "There's something waiting for us in the mountains," he said at last. "Something powerful… and dangerous."
Lira looked at him uncertainly. "Are we still going there?"
He met her gaze and nodded. "We don't have a choice. If the masked ones want the relic, then whatever lies in the mountains may be the key to stopping them."
They left the tower and continued their journey, the road winding higher into the foothills. As night began to fall, they found shelter beneath a rocky overhang, where they lit a small fire to keep the chill at bay.
Lira sat close to the flames, her eyes heavy with fatigue. "Do you think… we'll find people in the mountains? People who can help?"
Aric stared into the fire for a long moment before answering. "I hope so. But even if we don't… we'll keep going. Together."
The fire crackled softly, casting their shadows long against the stone. Beyond the edge of the camp, the darkness of the wild stretched on, vast and silent. Somewhere out there, in the growing night, unseen eyes watched their progress, and distant footsteps moved with deliberate patience.
The road ahead promised no peace, only more trials—but for the first time since stepping into this world, Aric felt a glimmer of purpose lighting his path.