The village of Sundermere came into view just as dusk fell, hidden behind a ridge of ancient trees and a stretch of fog-covered fields. It wasn't much—just a cluster of wooden cottages, a watchtower leaning slightly to one side, and a narrow stream running through its center like a silver thread. But despite its small size, Aric could feel something off the moment they stepped onto the path leading down.
There was no sound.
No animals. No voices. Not even the wind rustling through the leaves.
Maelis narrowed his eyes. "Too quiet."
Aric nodded. "Do you think the hunter from earlier got here first?"
"It's possible," Maelis said. "Or something worse did."
They moved slowly, weapons within reach, senses sharp. Aric felt the Emberblade vibrate faintly against his back, as if it too sensed the unnatural stillness. The fire inside him stirred, not with heat, but with tension—like it was holding its breath.
As they entered the village, Aric saw signs of life—but only just.
Doors hung slightly open. A chair was tipped over near the stream. A broken lantern lay shattered beside a well. There were no bodies, no blood, but the place felt abandoned in a hurry.
"Looks like they ran," Aric murmured.
"Or were taken," Maelis replied grimly.
They reached the center of Sundermere, where an old chapel stood beside a tree stripped of its leaves. The chapel's doors were ajar, creaking softly in the wind that had finally begun to stir.
Maelis motioned for Aric to stay back, then pushed the doors open.
Inside, candles still burned—dim and low, like they'd been lit hours ago. And in the center of the stone floor sat a single figure.
An old man, hooded, hunched, hands folded in his lap. He didn't move as they entered.
Maelis approached slowly. "Are you alive, old one?"
The man lifted his head. His eyes were clouded, but not blind. There was awareness there. And something else—fear.
"You shouldn't have come here," the man rasped. "It's watching."
"What is?" Aric asked.
The man's eyes flicked to him. He stared at Aric for a long moment—then looked down at the Emberblade on his back. He flinched.
"You carry fire," he whispered. "And fire draws shadows."
"We were told we'd find answers here," Maelis said.
The old man shook his head. "You'll find nothing but graves. Sundermere is already lost."
"To what?" Aric pressed. "The Veil?"
The man laughed bitterly. "Worse. Something deeper. Something older."
Aric stepped forward. "What do you know about the sword?"
The man's voice dropped. "You're the heir to it, then. The last ember... the fire that refused to die."
Aric's heart skipped. "Tell me what that means."
But before the man could speak, the candles flickered wildly—then went out.
Darkness swept over the chapel like a wave. A low groan echoed through the wood beams, followed by a whisper that didn't come from any throat.
Maelis drew his blade. "We're not alone."
A figure appeared in the doorway. Tall. Wrapped in smoke and shadow. Its eyes were like dying stars, pulsing with slow, crimson light.
The old man dropped to his knees. "It's here…"
The figure stepped forward, and with each movement, the shadows bent toward it. Aric felt the Emberblade react immediately, growing hot, the fire inside him rising like a wave. It hated this thing. Whatever it was.
"You are the last," the figure said in a voice like cracking ice. "And you carry a mistake."
Aric drew the sword. The flames lit the chapel instantly, bright and wild, casting long, dancing shadows.
The figure didn't flinch. It raised a hand, and darkness surged forward like a tidal wave.
Aric braced himself, the fire roaring to life within him, and swung the Emberblade.
The two forces collided—flame and shadow—filling the chapel with a blinding light.
And just like that, the figure vanished, scattered like smoke in the wind.
The candles flickered back to life. The old man gasped, as if a spell had been broken.
Aric stood breathing heavily, the blade still glowing in his hand.
Maelis looked at him. "Well... I guess you are the Emberblade."
Aric didn't answer. His hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
But from how good it felt to let the fire loose.