Dwarken

In that heartbeat of stillness, a blinding light erupted, engulfing the room, pure and scorching. I shielded my eyes with my one good arm, the brilliance overwhelming. When I dared to look again, the monsters were no more. In their place, only smoldering husks remained, their threat extinguished as if it had never been. And the source of that impossible light dimmed to reveal itself as nothing more than the glow at the tip of a dark, runic-carved staff. The man holding it was shorter than any adult I had seen before.

He turned around and his gaze pinned me in place—violet eyes with flecks of white, alive with magic and secrets. His appearance spoke of distant lands, his skin a rich mahogany. Despite the rust on his mail and the wear on his black robes, he stood as if he owned the world and the mysteries within it. His alabaster hair was tied back, with an impressive beard that was intricately braided and speckled with an assortment of embedded gemstones.

Was he a paladin? Here to help? Had the Theocracy sent aid?

Questions whirled in my mind like leaves caught in a gust. The Church was known to dispatch them in times of crisis. But something was off. The rusted mail, the worn robes, they were wrong for a paladin.

I remembered tales of paladins in the city squares, warriors in service to the Aspects, donned in gleaming plate armor, not mail, carrying mighty swords or spears that reflected the light of the sun like shards of Lumara herself.

Not a staff, especially not one etched with arcane runes that shimmered in the gloom.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted. "Easy, lad. You've nothing to fear from me." His voice was gruff yet gentle.

That was when I realized I was still clutching the blade. A sudden rush of relief washed over me, followed swiftly by an exhaustion so profound it made my vision blur at the edges. I was spent, every ounce of my energy poured into the fight against the nightmarish creatures.

The stranger's voice broke through the fog of fatigue. "Hold on," he said. He reached into his robe, producing a small vial filled with a liquid that looked indistinguishable from common water.

I barely registered when he pressed it to my lips, urging me to drink. I was too weary to resist, too weary to care about anything but the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

But then the liquid hit my tongue.

A rush of energy exploded within me, surging through my veins like liquid fire. My eyes snapped open wide as if they'd been doused in ice-cold water. My fatigue retreated like a shadow chased away by the dawn.

In disbelief, I watched as my wounds began to heal before my very eyes. The torn flesh knitted itself back together, leaving only scars and a ghostly ache as a reminder of the pain that had been there just moments before.

"By Ignis, what... what was that?" I asked, looking up at the man in awe.

He stowed the now empty vial back into his robe and glanced over his shoulder at something unseen. "An elixir of vitality," he replied. His focus swung back to me. "What's your name, lad?"

⋆✦⋆───────⋆✧⋆───────⋆✦⋆ 

I was shocked. Elixirs. I'd heard of them, of course. I don't think there was a mundane alive who hadn't heard of them. Powerful concoctions that could cure diseases, heal injuries or even help people become more. They were supposed to be precious things, held only by the most privileged or powerful—paladins, priests, high-ranking officers of the Theocracy.

And he'd just fed me it.

A nudge from his staff snapped me out of my stupor and I realized he'd asked a question.

"N-Noah," I stammered, my name feeling like a stranger on my tongue.

"Noah, I am Olvandir. We don't have time lad, there are more ghouls coming."

Is that what they're called?

"The longer we stay here, the more danger we're in," He extended his hand towards me. It was rough and calloused, no doubt a testament to a lifetime of battles fought and won. I took it, feeling the solid strength in his grip as he pulled me up.

Standing on my feet again, I realized how short Olvandir really was. He barely reached my shoulder, and I was still in the throes of adolescence. At fifteen, I was not particularly tall, yet I towered over him.

And then it hit me. This wasn't a human at all. The stature, the braids.

A flurry of thoughts flooded my mind. Memories of bedtime stories that ma used to read to me, tales of people who once lived deep within the mountains of Thornfall, before it's annihilation.

"Dwarken," I muttered, almost in disbelief.

He gave no indication that he heard me, just took a firm grip on my arm and started pulling me towards the door. As we moved, I hastily shoved my father's hunting knife back into its sheath.

We reached the doors downstairs, and I skidded to a halt. Olvandir shot me an impatient look, but I persisted.

"Wait," I said, "I have to grab something. It-It's important."

He stared at me for but a moment before grunting in response.

"Hurry."

Without wasting another second, I darted back up the stairs. I suppressed the grief I felt as I neared the corpse of the creature that had once been my father. It was grotesque, a sight that would forever be etched into my memory.

I swallowed hard against the bile that rose in my throat and reached out to retrieve what I came for: the locket. It was tarnished with age and wear, but it was more precious to me than any jewel or treasure. It was the only physical memory of my parents that I had left.

With shaking hands, I quickly stowed it in one of the pockets of my trousers and made my way back downstairs.

As soon as I rejoined him at the door, the dwarken shot me a quick glance before turning his attention back to the fog beyond.

"Stick with me. As soon as we're clear, we'll head east to Thornwick, it's the nearest human settlement to Hearthglen."

Without another word he moved, and I followed close behind him. His staff cast a faint glow that cut through the haze, keeping a bubble of clarity around us. It was a marvel, watching the gloom obey, parting like a sea around him.

We made our way through the haunting alleys of Hearthglen, and just as we reached the village square, a sudden cacophony shattered the eerie silence that had settled over us. Unholy shrieks pierced the air from all directions, echoing off the empty buildings and rattling in my ears.

"Run!" Olvandir's harsh whisper echoed in my ears.

Before I could process the word, his grip tightened around my arm, yanking me forward. My feet pounded against the hard ground, each stride a desperate bid for survival.

His staff still cut through the fog, illuminating our path as we darted through Hearthglen's labyrinthine alleys. Only a few houses separated us from the village's edge, freedom a tantalizing prospect within reach.

Without warning, his grip on my arm loosened, and I felt myself being flung onto the ground. A terse command to duck was all I had before an explosion of light illuminated the night.

Heat washed over me, making me gasp in surprise. My eyes stung from the sudden brightness, and I squinted against it. It was blinding, like staring into the sun at midday.

As quickly as it had come, it was gone, leaving only a burning afterimage on my retinas. I blinked rapidly to clear my vision and slowly turned to look behind me.

There on the ground was another creature, shrieking and writhing in pain. It was monstrous, an abomination stitched together from three different bodies. Its cries were agonized and chilling, echoing off the stone buildings and making my skin crawl.

It was clawing at its own flesh, trying to tear at the flames that refused to let up. The sight of it made me shudder in revulsion and fear.

Olvandir stood beside me then, his staff still glowing faintly with residual power. His eyes were cold and hard as they watched the creature struggle in its agony.

Wait…

He wasn't watching the ghoul. His gaze was locked onto something behind it. I gasped. There were dozens of them, each like the one before him, an abomination of three or more bodies, stalking like predators. Like wolves prowling in shadows.

Olvandir swore something under his breath, but I couldn't make it out.

He turned to look at me.

"Noah," he said in a harsh whisper. "You have to run."

I looked at him in shock. "But--"

"No!" His voice was a whip crack in the silent night, causing me to flinch back. "Go to Thornwick!" he ordered. "I'll find you there."

My protests died on my lips as I met his gaze again. There was no room for argument in those violet eyes, only hard resolve.

So, I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as I turned and ran.

⋆✦⋆───────⋆✧⋆───────⋆✦⋆ 

It was a frantic escape. My world was narrowed down to the pounding of my heart and the desperate gasps for air. I burst past the village perimeter, and the sight of trees stretching out into the darkness filled me with an odd sense of relief.

But there was no time to rest. I plunged into the forest, the undergrowth grabbing at my legs as if trying to pull me back towards Hearthglen. Branches whipped at my face and arms as I hurtled through the trees.

Behind me, each thunderous boom of Olvandir's magic sent tremors through the earth beneath my feet. My mind swam with fear and grief as I ran blindly through the forest. Guilt gnawed at me like a hungry beast. I had left him behind to face whatever horrors were unleashed in Hearthglen. A man who had saved me from certain death was now risking his own life because of me.

I shook my head, forcing those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time for guilt. I had to survive. For him, for my parents.

My legs burned with the effort, my lungs screamed for respite, but still I ran. Time lost all meaning as I plunged deeper into the heart of the forest, until, betrayed by a hidden root, my world turned upside down. The ground rushed up to meet me, and I was sent tumbling down a slope, the earth battering me, stealing the breath from my body.

When the world finally stopped spinning, I found myself at the bottom of a ditch, the taste of blood sharp in my mouth. I spat, watching in detached fascination as my blood painted the grey earth red. With effort, I dragged myself up and out of the ditch, every movement a study in pain.

Standing at the top, I caught my first glimpse of hope—a horizon that promised escape from the nightmares. The forest ahead shifted slowly from the deathly grey of the curse to a more natural green, a sign that life still held sway beyond these woods.

Lumara bless me, there was sunlight streaming through the trees ahead.

Relief washed over me, so profound it nearly brought me to my knees. Just to make sure, I turned, half-expecting to see a ghoul hot on my heels, but there was nothing. No monster, no Olvandir, just the empty path stretching back into silence.

I was alone.