Beyond the river lay a stark contrast. The city of Caldria loomed on the other side, its towering spires and massive walls dominating the horizon. Even from this distance, they could see the bustling activity within the city—ships docking at the river's edge, carts moving through the streets, and the faint hum of life in a place that never truly slept. The city was vast, its stone structures imposing, and it exuded an air of power and wealth that the humble village across the river could never hope to match.
The river that separated them from Caldria was wide and deep, its dark waters flowing steadily toward the horizon. Bridges spanned the river at various points, each one guarded by soldiers clad in the city's emblem—a reminder that crossing into Caldria was not something to be done lightly.
Alaric stood on the edge of the village, staring across the river at the city that would soon become their destination. His heart beat a little faster as he considered the enormity of what lay ahead. The city's sheer size was intimidating, and the knowledge that it was a stronghold for the Children of Malice only made it more foreboding.
"This is it," Berik said quietly, coming to stand beside Alaric. "Caldria. We need to tread carefully from here on out. This city holds more secrets and dangers than you can imagine."
Alaric nodded, his gaze never leaving the city. "We'll find my siblings," he said, more to himself than to Berik. "Whatever it takes."
Berik placed a hand on Alaric's shoulder, a rare gesture of reassurance. "We will. But first, we need to speak to the informant. He'll have the information we need to navigate Caldria and avoid unnecessary risks."
The tavern was dimly lit, the smell of ale and roasted meat thick in the air. The informant was easy to spot—an anxious man seated at a corner table, his eyes darting nervously around the room. Berik approached him with the calm authority of someone who had done this many times before, while Alaric followed closely behind, his senses on high alert.
"You're late," the informant muttered as they sat down, his voice a low rasp. "I've been waiting, but it's not safe to stay in one place for too long."
"We had some trouble on the way," Berik replied evenly. "But we're here now. Tell us what you've found."
The informant took a shaky breath, glancing around the tavern as if expecting someone to overhear. He pulled a small, weathered notebook from his coat and pushed it across the table. "The Children of Malice… they've been kidnapping children from villages across the land. At first, it seemed random, but it's not. They're targeting children without blessings."
Alaric's heart skipped a beat. "Why? What do they want with unblessed children?"
The informant's eyes darkened. "They believe these children are pure, untainted by the gods. They think that if they gather enough of them, they can perform a sacrificial ritual powerful enough to bring back the Destroyer."
Berik leaned forward, his voice hard. "When are they planning this ritual?"
The informant swallowed hard. "The Festival of Beginnings. They're planning to do it on the last day, the day that represents the final battle. They believe that by reversing the symbolism, they can bring the Destroyer back."
Alaric's blood ran cold. The Festival of Beginnings was only a week away. They had so little time.
"We need to move quickly," Berik said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Thank you for the information. We'll take it from here."
The informant nodded; his relief palpable. "Be careful. The Children of Malice are everywhere."
As they left the tavern, the weight of the informant's words hung heavy in the air. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the village. They needed to make plans, but before they could get far, a sudden shout rang out from a nearby alley.
"Stop right there!"
Alaric and Berik spun around, hands going to their weapons. Emerging from the shadows was a towering figure clad in gleaming armor, a massive shield slung across his back and a sword in his hand. His eyes were sharp, and his expression was one of suspicion and hostility.
"Children of Malice, I presume?" the warrior demanded, his voice carrying the confidence of someone who was used to being obeyed.
Berik frowned, stepping protectively in front of Alaric. "We're not your enemies," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You've got the wrong idea."
The warrior sneered, clearly unimpressed. "You expect me to believe that? I know what I saw—two men sneaking out of a shady tavern after meeting with a suspicious character. Sounds like Children of Malice to me."
Alaric's mind raced. How could they convince this man they were on the same side? But before he could respond, a rustling sound in the shadows caught their attention. A hideous, twisted creature—a B+ rank fiend—emerged from the darkness, its eyes glowing with malevolent intent.
The warrior's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't seen the creature before, and his assumption about Alaric and Berik being enemies faltered. But instead of panicking, he grinned—a grin full of confidence and excitement. "A real fight, huh? You picked the wrong day to mess with Vincent of Aethoria!"
Before the creature could make its move, Vincent was on it, his massive shield slamming into the fiend with a force that echoed through the alley. The fiend screeched, but Vincent was relentless, his sword following up with a powerful strike that cut deep into the creature's side.
Berik, not to be outdone, moved in from the opposite side, his own attacks precise and deadly. Between the two of them, the B+ rank fiend stood no chance. It tried to retaliate, but its attacks were easily deflected by Vincent's shield or dodged by Berik's agile movements.
Within moments, the fiend lay dead at their feet, its body dissipating into a foul-smelling mist. Vincent looked down at the remains, his expression one of satisfaction. "Too easy," he muttered, sheathing his sword.
Alaric, still catching his breath, stared at the two men in awe. "You… you didn't even break a sweat."
Vincent shrugged as if it were nothing. "B+ rank? Barely worth my time."
Berik glanced at Alaric, then back at Vincent. "We're not your enemies," he repeated. "But if you're hunting the Children of Malice, we're on the same side."
Vincent eyed them both, his earlier suspicion easing. "I might've jumped to conclusions. My bad. But you can't be too careful around here—this city's crawling with those cultists, and they've been stirring up trouble all over the place."
Before the conversation could continue, more figures emerged from the shadows, but this time they weren't enemies. Vincent's party had caught up—a group of three, each carrying themselves with a mix of confidence and arrogance that mirrored their leader.
The first was a tall woman, her robes marking her as an A-rank mage. She had an air of superiority about her, and her eyes seemed to dismiss Alaric and Berik as inconsequential. "Vincent, we should move on. This area is crawling with low-rank monsters. Hardly worth our time."
The second was a B-rank healer, a man with a kind but somewhat distracted demeanor. He hung back slightly, clearly more comfortable away from the front lines. "Are you hurt?" he asked, though it was clear from his tone that he didn't expect anyone in their group to be injured from such a minor scuffle.
The last was a B-rank marksman, his bow slung across his back. He seemed the most alert of the three, his eyes scanning the area even as he joined the conversation. "Looks like you two handled yourselves well enough," he remarked, nodding to Berik and Alaric.
Vincent waved them off. "Relax, we're done here. Just a misunderstanding." He turned back to Berik and Alaric, his tone more serious. "I'm Vincent, S-rank warrior from Aethoria. We're here investigating the Children of Malice."
Berik nodded. "Berik. This is Alaric. We're after the same thing, but our reasons are personal."
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Personal, huh? Well, I won't pry, but watch yourselves. This city's full of surprises, and not all of them are pleasant."
Alaric, still processing everything that had just happened, finally found his voice. "Thanks for the help. We didn't expect to run into anyone else out here."
Vincent shrugged again; his confidence unshaken. "Just doing my job. But if we cross paths again, don't expect me to go easy on you if I think you're in my way."
With that, Vincent signaled to his party, and they began to move out, heading deeper into the city. Alaric watched them go, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension.
As the shadows lengthened and the sounds of the bustling city grew louder in the distance, Berik placed a hand on Alaric's shoulder. "Let's keep moving. We have what we need for now, but this is only the beginning. The Children of Malice won't stop, and neither can we."
Alaric nodded, his resolve hardening. The encounter had shown him just how dangerous their enemies were, but it had also reminded him of what he was fighting for. They turned to leave; Alaric couldn't shake the feeling that something even more dangerous was lurking just beyond the horizon. The rise in malice, the increase in monster activity—it all pointed to a darker, more insidious threat. And if the Children of Malice were indeed trying to bring back the Destroyer, then their journey was far from over.
As they made their way toward Caldria, Alaric couldn't help but glance back at the village, now far behind them. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: they had to stop the Children of Malice, no matter the cost.
With each step they took, Alaric knew he was one step closer to finding his siblings—or losing the village on the outskirts of Tesara had grown quiet, the day's activities winding down as night began to settle in. Alaric and Berik, armed with the critical information from the informant, now faced their next challenge: crossing the river into Caldria. The bridges were heavily guarded, and a direct approach was out of the question.
As they debated their options in a secluded corner of the village, a hooded figure approached them—a smuggler, recommended by the informant. His face was mostly hidden, save for a crooked smile that suggested he knew more than he let on.
"You're looking to cross the river, aren't you?" the smuggler asked in a low voice. "I can get you there, no questions asked. But it won't be cheap, and it won't be easy."
Berik narrowed his eyes. "We can handle ourselves. What's the catch?"
The smuggler chuckled. "No catch just risks. Caldria doesn't just guard its borders with soldiers. They've got magical barriers that detect foreign life and magic signatures. Cross without the proper protection, and you'll set off alarms that'll bring the city's enforcers down on you faster than you can blink."
Alaric exchanged a glance with Berik, concern deepening. "So how do we get across undetected?"
The smuggler's grin widened. "That's where I come in. I run a ferry, disguised as a merchant boat. But the boat alone isn't enough. There's a spot along the river with an ancient enchantment—a spell that can cloak your life and magic signatures, blending them into the environment. But it's delicate. One wrong move, and the spell will shatter, exposing you to Caldria's defenses."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing. "The spell is tricky to maintain, and it requires someone with a deft touch to keep it stable. I've got a charm that can activate it, but it's up to you to make sure it holds."
Berik folded his arms. "And what happens if it doesn't hold?"
The smuggler's expression turned serious. "Then you'd better be prepared to swim—or fight."
The riverbank was shrouded in mist, the water flowing dark and silent under the cover of night. The smuggler's ferry, a simple wooden boat, waited at the edge, its appearance unremarkable to anyone not looking for it. Alaric and Berik approached cautiously, the weight of the situation pressing down on them.
As they boarded the ferry, the smuggler handed Berik a small, glowing charm. "This will activate the enchantment," he explained. "Once you're on the water, use it to blend your signatures with the surroundings. But be careful—any sudden movement or disturbance could break the spell."
Berik nodded, his grip tightening around the charm. "Let's get this over with."
The ferry pushed off from the shore, the air around them growing still as the smuggler muttered an incantation. The charm in Berik's hand flared to life, casting a faint glow that spread out to envelop the boat. Alaric felt a strange sensation wash over him, as if the very essence of his being was fading into the night.
The crossing was tense, the silence broken only by the soft lapping of water against the boat. Alaric kept his eyes on Berik, who was focused on maintaining the spell. The magical energy in the air hummed with tension, a reminder of how precarious their situation was.
Halfway across the river, the boat suddenly jerked, the water beneath them roiling as if something massive moved below. The smuggler's face paled. "Something's in the water."
Berik's jaw tightened as he struggled to keep the charm steady. "Stay calm. If we don't disturb the water, the enchantment will hold."
But before they could react, a massive shape broke the surface of the water—a monstrous, serpentine creature, its scales gleaming in the moonlight. The creature let out a low growl, its eyes locking onto the ferry.
Panic surged through Alaric as the boat rocked violently. The enchantment around them flickered, the charm in Berik's hand dimming. "It's going to break!" Alaric shouted, gripping the edge of the boat.
The creature lunged, its massive jaws opening wide. The ferry tilted dangerously, and the smuggler scrambled to the back of the boat, cursing under his breath. "We're done for!"
But before the creature could strike, a sharp, echoing crack rang out—a sound unmistakable to those who knew it: a sniper shot. The bullet, glowing faintly with magical energy, pierced through the night and struck the beast squarely in its eye. The creature reared back, letting out a deafening roar of pain.
The smuggler gasped, "What the—?"
Another shot followed, this time hitting the creature's throat with deadly precision. Dark blood sprayed across the river's surface as the beast thrashed violently, churning the water before collapsing into the depths, leaving only ripples in its wake.
The ferry steadied, the enchantment holding once more. Alaric and Berik exchanged stunned glances, trying to process what had just happened.
"That was close," Berik muttered, his voice laced with relief. "But who—?"
Before he could finish, a figure stepped out of the shadows at the edge of the boat, her movements so silent they hadn't noticed her approach. She was clad in dark, form-fitting attire, her hood partially obscuring her face. A longbow was slung across her back, its craftsmanship as deadly as it was elegant.
"Rayna," she introduced herself, her voice low and cold. "That creature was drawn to the magic you were using. I've been following you since you left the heart of Tesara—specifically you, Alaric."
Alaric stared at her, his heart still racing. "Why? Why were you following me?"
Rayna's expression remained unreadable, her eyes flicking over to meet his with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. "Because you were the only survivor of the recent Children of Malice raid. That makes you... significant. I needed to see where you were headed and why."
Berik, ever the pragmatist, studied her with a cautious eye. "And why should we trust you?"
Rayna's lips curled into a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Trust? That's irrelevant. I have my reasons for being here—reasons that align with stopping the Children of Malice. For now, our goals intersect. Beyond that... you're on your own."
The smuggler, still pale from the encounter, glanced at Rayna with a mix of fear and awe. "You're the Shadow they talk about, aren't you? The one who hunts in the dark?"
Rayna ignored him, her focus remaining on Alaric and Berik. "Caldria is not a place for the unprepared. Stick to your mission, stay out of trouble, and you might just survive."
Without waiting for a response, she stepped off the boat, disappearing into the darkness as quickly as she had appeared. The smuggler muttered something under his breath, but his words were lost in the night.
Berik let out a slow breath, his tension easing only slightly. "What was that all about?"
Alaric shook his head, still trying to make sense of it all. "I don't know. But I have a feeling we'll be seeing her again."
As they stepped onto Caldria's streets, the city's towering structures casting long, ominous shadows over them, Alaric felt a mix of apprehension and determination. The journey across the river had been a test, one they had passed only by the intervention of an enigmatic ally. But as they ventured deeper into the city, he knew the real challenge was just beginning.
The Children of Malice were here, somewhere within the city's sprawling expanse. And with the Festival of Beginnings only days away, time was running out. The stakes were higher than ever, and every move they made from now on would be crucial.
As they moved through the darkened streets, Alaric couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. The shadows of Caldria seemed to whisper of secrets and dangers yet to be uncovered. But with Berik by his side and Rayna lurking in the shadows, he felt a glimmer of hope.
They would stop the Children of Malice. They had to.