The darkness reached out like a spectral hand, its tendrils burrowing deep into the most vulnerable parts of my soul. Cold. Suffocating. Consuming.
What is this?
The corruption spread, threatening to swallow me whole. Panic rose, a silent scream caught in the depths of my consciousness. Fragments of memories flickered—Ms. Clemintine's final moments, the nightmare slug's grotesque form, the Order's looming threat. Each image is a razor-sharp shard of remembered terror, each image inducing more and more… anger.
Why is it here?
Why is it consuming me?
What happens when it does...
"Wa- wak- wake… wake up… KAI WAKE UP!"
I jolted upright, gasping for air, my body drenched in a cold sweat. Maya's hands were still on my shoulders, her face a complex canvas of emotions. Concern lurked beneath her typical playful exterior, a reminder of how much we'd been through together.
Rowan stood behind her, his face split by a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You were sleeping like a rock," Maya declared, her voice a mixture of exasperation and genuine worry. "It's already almost noon, and we're so close to Delocard I can practically smell the food."
Rowan added, his voice a low rumble, "We've been living off terrible rations and wolf meat for two weeks. I'm growing more impatient by the second." He scratched at a new scar on his arm—a souvenir from our last job clearing out a den of mountain wolves.
I rolled my eyes, attempting to shake off the lingering tendrils of the nightmare. "Yeah, whatever. Give me five more minutes," I mumbled, turning away and closing my eyes.
Mistake.
The sudden heat was unmistakable. My eyes burst open to find my sleeping bag engulfed in flames. Panic seized me as I struggled to escape, tripping and rolling onto the grass in a desperate attempt to avoid being burned.
"MAYA, WHAT THE HELL?" I shouted, standing up and brushing grass from my clothes.
She met my glare with an innocent look that fooled absolutely no one. "Whoops, did I do that?"
Our staredown was a dance we'd perfected over the past year—years of companionship distilled into a moment of pure, stubborn confrontation. Maya had slowly started acting more and more like her old self throughout our journey which made me happy… usually.
Rowan's exasperated sigh broke the tension. "Whenever you two are done acting stupid, I'd like to get to town."
We packed up quickly, the promise of Delocard pushing us forward. Our campsite—a small clearing surrounded by wind-bent trees—was efficiently dismantled. We'd become experts at leaving no trace, a skill born of necessity and careful training.
Delocard loomed on the horizon, a testament to our year-long journey. It was hard to believe how much had changed. Maya and Rowan were now 14, and I had turned 13. We were no longer the same children who had left Ms. Vera's what felt like a lifetime ago.
The journey had been brutal. Dawnscross and the goblin chieftain, the nightmare slug in Eldor that had nearly killed us. Countless battles, narrow escapes, moments of pure terror interspersed with unexpected kindness. But we'd survived. More than that—we'd grown stronger.
After Eldor, things had become easier. No more unexpectedly powerful beasts. No more constant fear of the Order that had haunted our early days. We'd even begun to relax, our pace becoming more leisurely, our spirits lighter.
A goal that once seemed impossible—three kids traveling across the kingdom, working as adventurers—was now our reality.
Delocard burst into view, more magnificent than any town we'd seen before. It was a living, breathing organism of commerce and diversity. The city was a sprawling marvel of architecture and culture, unlike anything we'd encountered in our travels.
Carts clattered down cobblestone streets paved with stones of different colors and textures. Horses trotted alongside pedestrians, their harnesses jingling with small bells. A true melting pot of cultures that seemed to breathe and pulse with life.
Dwarven merchants, their beards intricately braided and decorated with small metal clasps, negotiated prices with human traders. Elves moved with an otherworldly grace, their slender forms contrasting with the stocky beast people whose varied animal features marked them as unique individuals. Royal guards—some of the king's own men, others serving the local lord—maintained a subtle but omnipresent presence.
Adventurers displayed their latest trophies—monster parts, rare artifacts, intricate weapons. Families went about their daily shopping, children running between market stalls, their laughter a counterpoint to the serious negotiations of adults.
"Our plan is simple," I reminded my companions, more out of habit than necessity. "Find food. Find shelter. Tomorrow, we look for jobs."
Maya bounced on her toes, her excitement palpable. If I didn't know any better I could have sworn I even saw some sparks dance off her palms.
Rowan adjusted the pack on his shoulders, his eyes scanning the crowd. Despite his calm stoic looking expression, I knew he was as excited as we were. Delocard represented more than just another stop—it was the last stop before the capitol, to whatever destiny awaited us.
We had made it. Against all odds, we had made it to Delocard.
The street swallowed us whole, another set of faces in a city of thousands. But we knew better. We were more than just faces in a crowd. We were survivors. We were adventurers.
And our story was far from over.