15^th Illumis, 460 AG, 13:10PM, Heodal Kingdom

By the time the boys reached the village, their lungs were on fire, and their feet and knees pulsated with sharp pain from all the running. Xyron was in worse shape than Kai, but both were quite exhausted.

They separated at the gate, each rushing to their respective homes. The sun glowed a bright yellow, already noticeably lower than it was before since the boys’ adventure to the ruins took around three hours.

Xyron finally arrived at the doorstep of his house, his mind busy rehearsing the words he’d say to explain the situation. He flung the door open and stumbled inside, trailed by the scent of sweat. 

The kitchen was small, a wooden table jammed up under the window, his mother already at it, hands deep in a loaf of dough. Aolyne, his little brother, was sitting on a chair, swinging his legs and staring into nothing.

The warmth of the kitchen slammed into Xyron, making his knees almost give out, and for a second, he wanted to collapse right there on the floor. But his mother didn’t give him the chance.

“You’re late.” She said, knowing her son’s bad habit of getting into trouble. Her voice was dry as a desert, the kind that could let him know how angry she was. She let go of the dough for a second and took a good look at Xyron

“And from the looks of it, empty… handed.” Her speech slowed down the longer she looked at the state he was in. Clothes ripped, blood dripping from his arm, alongside all the bruises.

“What happened!?” His little brother questioned, noticing Xyron’s rough condition.

“We found something…” He could barely reply, catching his breath in between words. “Where is dad?”

“At the smithy. Tell me, what happened?!” His mother quickly focused on him, realizing this was not a bad joke.

Xyron turned around as fast as he arrived, rushing out through the open door. His heart beat so fast he could feel it in his throat as the memory of the monstrosity in the ruins remained vivid.

“Xyron!” His mother called out, watching him dash in the direction of the smithy. But he did not reply, it was way too urgent. Were someone else to find that place, or worse, if that creature managed to escape and go to the village, only the Goddess could know the amount of death it would cause.

The path to the smithy was filled with throwaway metal objects, sometimes even armor and weapons, often used to smelt and craft new equipment. Xyron ran for the first stretch, then slowed as the lane flattened out and the air got heavy with the smell of hot metal. The smithy itself was a half shed with the open front glowing an orange pulse from the forge. Even before he got to it, he could feel the heat on his face and the grit under his tongue.

Inside, Kai’s father, Zlodey, was hunched over the anvil. His bare arms were filled with muscles and shining with sweat. Sparks leapt from every blow of the hammer, the sound of it loud enough to set vibrations into Xyron’s teeth. Behind him, a rack of unfinished blades hung in a careful line, followed by a few chest plates.

His father stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest. He watched Zlodey work, but his eyes never really left the entrance.

Kai was already there, telling their story to the men. Both Paul and Zlodey looked at each other, confused, never having heard about ruins nearby. They looked at Xyron, who had to stop a few steps away with his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

“Is it true?!” Paul anxiously asked his son, wishing the boys were making it up. “There’s some creature in there?” Xyron took a deep breath before finally speaking.

“Yes! We found hidden ruins in the forest, the wolf is in there!”

Zlodey’s eyes narrowed, looking at Paul.

“A single wolf caused this much trouble?”

“Not really a wolf…” Xyron said. “It’s bigger, and it… It doesn’t move right. Like it’s made of shadows, or smoke. In fact, it was as if smoke was coming out of its body!”

Paul’s face didn’t change, but his hand dropped to the hilt of the old sword at his belt. “You’re sure?”

Xyron insisted. “It almost had us in the tunnels!” Xyron insisted. “I think it’s stuck in there, for now, but…”

“If it gets out…” Kai finished, “It could come straight for the village, and then everyone’s in danger!”

Zlodey spat into the ground to his right and grunted, now aware the kids barely returned alive. Paul turned to him with an even more serious face.

“If that’s true… Maybe it's one of those.”

Zlodey wasn’t satisfied, but he didn’t argue.

Xyron felt the tension getting even heavier. Thankfully, his father believed him. That was all he needed.

Paul looked back at the boys. “Are you positive it can’t get out?”

Xyron shook his head. “It is way too large to fit through most passages, let alone the trapdoor. But it tried… It tried hard.”

“Very well then…” Paul continued. “Xyron, go home and tend those wounds. Rest well, we’ll need you boys to show us the way sooner than later.”

After he finished speaking, Xyron’s father bolted out of the smithy in a rush. There was only one thing on his mind, defending his people. For that, he’d make sure to get rid of the beast.

The air had gotten a bit colder by the time Paul made his way to the Knights’ Station. To him, the village was quieter than he’d ever seen it, and the only thing his ears were picking up were the sounds of the horrid wolf in his imagination. He was a warrior at heart.

The Knights’ Station stood at the far end of the square, its walls mortared so thick that only the largest of sieges could knock them in. The flag out front hung limp, the Heodal Kingdom’s sigil could be seen on it, a bird with a halo on top of it, although the colors had been fading away in the past few years. The front steps were swept and the hinges on the door oiled smooth. Paul paused, took in the building’s presence, before finally stepping inside.

The entry hall was almost empty, and nobody noticed Paul entering except for the man on watch. He was considerably young, more interested in his cold drink than anything else. He looked up at Paul, recognized him, and nodded him through without a word. Paul quickly crossed the hall, his boots thudding on the stone floor, and took the stairs two at a time. The old wooden steps creaked, as always, but the sound was familiar to him, almost like a comfort.

At the top of the stairs, there was the village knight’s captain's office, Jaros. The room was all shadows and books, shelves lining every wall, the desk covered with scrolls and letters. This was not his main village to oversee, but he still took his time to do it properly. Behind the desk, Jaros sat rigidly upright, as if the chair itself was part of his spine. Both his hair and beard were a dark mess, with a few strips of white every now and then. He looked up as Paul entered, confusion took over his face.

“Early for a report.” Jaros said, voice calm and even.

Paul bowed, just enough to be polite, then took the seat across the desk. Jaros studied Paul’s face, searching for whatever lay beneath the stiff jaw and the wide set of his shoulders. 

“Tell me.” He ordered.

Paul kept his hands in his lap, but his voice was steady. 

“My son and Zlodey’s boy found something in the forest, some old ruins. There’s danger in there… Something that may be just as dangerous as that thing we came across in the Wild Lands.”

The Wild Lands served as the natural border between the kingdom they were part of, Heodal, and the kingdom to the east, Argo. It was a large forest, with occasional grassland every few kilometers, stretching as far as the eye can see. Powerful creatures roam around in it, preventing both kingdoms from expanding their territory.