The dawn broke pale and cold, the lingering mist from Lifeless Lake still clinging to their cloaks as the group packed their gear. Morrigan walked slightly apart, her eyes gleaming faintly in the early light, watching the others with a knowing smile that unsettled them all.

Alaric tightened his grip on the map she had pointed to—a place called Mirror Lake, rumored among local legends but spoken of only in hushed whispers. It was said to be cursed, where the water reflected not what was, but what could be lost forever.

“We can’t afford to delay,” Morrigan said quietly, voice carrying a weight beyond her years. “The sword waits there, but so do dangers you cannot yet imagine.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, casting a wary glance at Alaric and Morrigan. “What kind of dangers? You’ve not been exactly forthcoming.”

Morrigan’s gaze sharpened, shadows deepening in her eyes. “Because some truths are like blades — they cut those unprepared. You will learn soon enough.”

Morgan’s absence was a hollow ache among them, a constant reminder of what was lost and what still might be won. Alaric found himself watching Morrigan closely, searching for any sign of the friend he’d known, but only finding the enigmatic shadow she now was.

Elara moved quietly nearby, alert as always, but blending easily with the group rather than standing apart. The steady rhythm of their march continued, the forest thick and brooding around them.

By nightfall, the group camped near ancient ruins swallowed by moss and time. Around the fire, Morrigan shared stories of kings wielding the Sword of Kings — tales of power and price, hope and destruction.

“The sword’s power,” she said, voice low and hypnotic, “is tied to the will of its bearer. But it exacts a price — one that can consume even the strongest.”

Thomas scoffed lightly. “Sounds like a fairy tale meant to scare children.”

Alaric shot him a look. “And yet, here we are, chasing that tale through shadows and ghosts.”

Morrigan’s eyes softened briefly. “I was once like you — full of doubt and fear. But I have seen what lies beyond that. I have touched power that can reshape the world.”

Morgan’s voice — or was it Morrigan’s? — whispered through the night, a chilling echo that sent shivers down their spines.

Suddenly, distant howls pierced the stillness, sharp and cruel. The trees seemed to lean in closer, the shadows thickening.

Thomas stood, hand on his sword. “Looks like those dangers just found us.”

Alaric rose, heart pounding. “We face this together.”

From the woods came the shapes — twisted beasts of shadow and claw, their eyes glowing with unnatural light. They moved swiftly, circling the camp.

Elara nocked an arrow, her movements fluid and precise. The arrow sliced through the air, striking a beast’s eye. The creature yowled in pain and staggered, but others closed in.

Thomas lunged forward, steel flashing as he parried a snapping jaw. Alaric slammed his shield into a beast, sending it sprawling before driving his sword home.

Morrigan’s fingers sparked with arcane energy. She unleashed a wave of searing light that scorched several attackers, their forms dissolving into shadows that retreated briefly.

But the beasts kept coming, relentless and savage.

One shadow leapt at Morrigan, claws raking across her arm, leaving a dark streak of blood. Alaric dove forward, pushing the beast back with the flat of his blade.

“Keep her safe!” he shouted.

Elara fired another arrow, striking a beast that had circled behind Thomas. He spun, cleaving through its shadowy form.

Breathing hard, Morrigan summoned a shield of swirling energy just in time to block a swipe from a larger beast. The magical barrier shimmered and cracked but held.

The battle was a dance of chaos and control, the group flowing together like a well-oiled machine. No one fought alone — every strike was supported by another, every spell covered by a sword or arrow.

At last, with a final roar, the last beast dissipated into the night air like smoke.

Silence fell. The forest seemed to exhale.

Elara lowered her bow, eyes scanning the darkness. “They’re drawn to the sword’s power. We can’t let our guard down.”

Alaric looked to Morrigan, her eyes flickering with something unreadable beneath the firelight — a storm barely contained.

Thomas wiped sweat and grime from his brow, managing a tired smile. “Well, that was a welcome distraction.”

Morrigan’s voice softened, almost distant. “This is only the beginning. The sword’s power is awakening — and so are the shadows that guard it.”

The group settled by the fire, wounds tended and weapons cleaned. Yet, beneath the surface, tension simmered — a fragile thread of trust stretched thin by secrets and fear.

Alaric caught Elara’s glance — silent agreement that their unity was their greatest strength.

Morrigan sat slightly apart, her gaze lost in the flickering flames. For all her wickedness, all the uncertainty she carried, there was a hint of something else — a desire to protect, to guide them to the sword.

The night deepened around them, filled with whispered promises and unspoken fears.

Tomorrow, the mirror would show them truths they might not be ready to face.

But tonight, they had each other.