Whispers in the Dark - Tears of The Fallen Angel

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Alytheon sat inside his large tent, studying a map of the village and its surroundings, while Ragarath and Serinos sat nearby, discussing strategic details. The silence in the tent was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps outside, followed by the guard's voice:

"Lord Alytheon, Olis and Noris request permission to enter."

Alytheon lifted his head quickly and replied, "Let them in."

Olis and Noris entered in haste, their bodies covered in a thin layer of dust from the days they had spent observing. They bowed respectfully before Olis spoke in a serious tone:

"My lord, we have returned with the information we managed to gather."

Alytheon gestured for them to sit and said calmly, "Speak."

They sat on the ground, and Noris was the first to speak in his deep voice:

"We didn't find as much as we had hoped… but we did learn that a man in a black robe visited the village shortly before our arrival."

Olis quickly added, "He gave them pure water and taught them some secrets about plants that helped improve their crops. Not only that, but he also healed some villagers suffering from severe illnesses."

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then continued, "The villagers see him as a true savior. No one knows his name; they simply call him 'the Redeemer.'"

Alytheon, Ragarath, and Serinos exchanged glances as a heavy silence filled the command tent. Finally, Serinos stroked his chin thoughtfully and said, "A mysterious man suddenly appears, providing them with water, healing, and knowledge… This is no ordinary magic."

Ragarath nodded in agreement and added, "Perhaps he is the same person connected to the message the king received… someone trying to sow discord between us and the half-humans."

Alytheon stared at the map in front of him, narrowing his eyes as he said, "Whatever his goal is, he is succeeding so far. We must act before he gains more villages to his side."

Then he looked at Olis and Noris, saying, "Well done. Rest now—you may need your strength soon."

They bowed once more before leaving the tent, while Alytheon remained seated, deep in thought about the next move.

"This Redeemer… Who are you really? And what do you want?"

Alytheon stepped out of the command tent, his expression a mix of determination and deep contemplation. The sunlight had taken on a reddish hue as dusk approached, casting long shadows over the camp, where soldiers were busy maintaining their weapons or engaging in light conversations.

He stopped in the middle of the dusty square and called out in a commanding voice:

"Ragarath! Serinos!"

Both approached quickly, standing before him, awaiting orders. Alytheon looked at them with eyes burning with resolve and said, "I want you to select our best fighters. Form them into groups of three and send them to the distant villages that the so-called Redeemer has not yet reached. We must find out if they need our help before he gets to them."

Then, shifting his gaze between them, he added, "As for the nearby villages, send our best scouts. Observe closely… Have they been rebuilt? Has this mysterious man passed through them? I want detailed reports."

Ragarath nodded and said with a sly grin, "I'll pick the men who could take down an army by themselves, don't worry."

Serinos chuckled lightly and added, "And I'll make sure they move like ghosts—no one will see them unless they wish to be seen."

Alytheon did not smile this time. He simply nodded in approval as the two turned and walked off, shouting orders among the soldiers.

"You! And you! Come here! We have a mission!"

"Anyone who considers themselves a real warrior, step forward now!"

But Alytheon remained standing in place, his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. It was as if he no longer saw the soldiers nor heard the voices of Ragarath and Serinos.

He was lost in thought, recalling the village chief's scornful tone, the villagers' faces filled with hatred, and the half-humans who had begun to look at him as if he were their enemy.

"How did we get here?" he wondered.

"Did we make a mistake somewhere? Or is this Redeemer using the truth to build his lies?"

He raised his hand and touched the sun emblem on his white armor. It gleamed brightly in the evening light, yet he felt as if its shine had become duller than it once was.

He muttered in a barely audible voice, "Am I still the hero that everyone believes in?"

Then he took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his sword's hilt, and turned back toward his tent, determined to find the answers—no matter the cost.

———————

On the other side, where the sun dipped below the horizon and dark clouds gathered, foretelling a cold night, Darcyan, Valinor, and Velaria crouched among thick bushes on a low hill overlooking a strange gathering in an open field. A hushed silence filled the air, broken only by the whispers of the wind through the trees.

Darcyan crept forward silently, kneeling behind the bushes, and raised his hand, signaling for absolute silence. Beside him, Valinor peered through his small spyglass, while Velaria rested her hand lightly on her dagger, ready for anything.

Below the hill, a group of bandits had gathered—most of them half-humans, their faces marked with toughness and cruelty. They wore light armor, some armed with rusted spears and swords. But the most concerning sight was the presence of human sorcerers among them, cloaked in dark brown robes with hoods drawn over their heads. Each held a magical lantern, within which danced an eerie violet flame, casting haunting shadows across their faces.

Darcyan leaned forward slightly, trying to hear the conversation among them. One of the sorcerers spoke in a low but sharp voice, as if his words carried venom:

"The Redeemer is close to achieving his goal. The people have begun to doubt their false hero, Alytheon. Soon… he will save the world from his tyranny."

The other man let out a mocking chuckle and added,

"When Alytheon falls, the kingdom of Elinthera will be nothing more than a memory. It will serve as a lesson to all the kingdoms that dare to ignore the suffering of the half-humans."

Darcyan, Valinor, and Velaria exchanged quick glances. Shock was evident on their faces, but they remained silent, knowing that even the slightest sound could reveal their presence.

Valinor muttered with a frown, "This is more dangerous than we expected… It seems this isn't just a rumor."

Darcyan responded in a serious tone, "We must return immediately and inform Alytheon. This Redeemer isn't just trying to ruin his reputation… He's planning the kingdom's downfall."

But Velaria, her hand still gripping her dagger, whispered cautiously, "Not yet. We need to learn more. They might reveal his location or his next move."

The three agreed to continue their surveillance a little longer, their hearts pounding under the weight of tension. The night grew darker, but the real danger wasn't in the shadows… It was in the hearts of those who believed the Redeemer was their only hope.

As the night deepened, Darcyan, Valinor, and Velaria followed the group of bandits from a cautious distance. They moved stealthily through the dense trees, their footsteps barely making a sound, blending in with the rustling leaves beneath them.

After hours of silent pursuit, the bandits suddenly stopped in the middle of a semi-open field, as if they had reached their destination or were waiting for something. The trio crouched behind a large moss-covered rock, watching the scene unfold with wary eyes.

Darcyan felt a strange prickling sensation in his chest—a warning he couldn't ignore. Slowly, he turned, scanning the darkness behind them. And then, standing just a few steps away, was a tall figure cloaked in black.

Under the faint moonlight, the man's face remained hidden, except for two glowing ember-like eyes that pierced through the darkness with an eerie gleam. A dark staff hung from his hand, etched with mysterious glowing runes.

He smiled coldly and spoke in a hollow voice, as if the wind itself carried his words:

"Welcome… loyal followers of Alytheon."

Darcyan wasn't given a chance to respond. Before he could utter a single word, the man raised his hand in a lightning-fast motion. Without an incantation or a spoken spell, a surge of concentrated black energy burst forth in the form of shadowy shards, striking Darcyan directly in the chest.

His body convulsed violently as he fell to his knees, a muffled cry of pain escaping his lips. Dark veins, like tendrils of poison, spread rapidly beneath his skin, coursing through his body like creeping vines.

Valinor shouted in fury, "Darcyan!"

He unsheathed his enchanted sword, its blade glowing with a faint blue light, and lunged toward the cloaked man. At the same time, Velaria raised her hands, chanting a spell in an ancient tongue, releasing a concentrated beam of violet flames toward him.

But with a mere flick of his wrist, the man conjured a dark shield, absorbing both attacks effortlessly.

With a wicked grin, he said, "You shouldn't have involved yourselves in this… But since you're here, your fall will serve as a lesson to the rest of Alytheon's faithful."

A fierce battle erupted between light and shadow as Valinor and Velaria fought desperately to save Darcyan, facing an enemy who did not rely on traditional magic… but instead drew his power from something far deeper and far darker.