Year 3999. Late autumn.
The cold, piercing wind carried with it the strong scent of burnt wood and the damp feeling of recent rain, as if it were carrying the secrets of a dark night. The city's streets glistened beneath the trembling lights of the lanterns, as their reflections danced upon the dark, stagnant pools of water. The colorful buildings of Crystallphaos, adorned with floating magical lamps that flickered like fleeting fireflies, stood out in the night. Faint wisps of steam escaped from the rooftops and wooden shutters, as if the city itself were breathing, wrapped in an aura of mystery.
The wind tugged at our clothes, but we would not let it break us. We walked on, unperturbed, like figures carved in stone. We were determined to enjoy our last outing before the epic mission that would define our year began. Breck was leading the way, his heavy footsteps echoing on the cobblestone alleys. Young, yet already a warrior-knight, he seemed to carry the weight of a fate written in steel. Tall, with a body sculpted by battles, his dark hair – which had a touch of white at the ends – moved lightly in the wind. His silver armor gleamed with every light that caressed it, like the moon in a nocturnal storm. Behind him, almost silent, walked Laima. Her orange hair – like flames dancing in the wind – barely touched the nape of her neck, highlighting her wild beauty. Her bow rested on her back, ready for use at any moment. Two small, silver knives glinted on her belt, like sharp promises of death.
Noctua glided in the team's shadow, as if she belonged more to the night than to the world of mortals. Her skin was the color of the night sky, etched with ancient symbols that seemed to pulsate in the light. Her eyes – two spheres of ineffable wisdom – scanned her surroundings, recording everything with mathematical precision. Two pistols, an extension of her hands, swayed gently on her belt. There was no doubt – Noctua was made for dark deeds.
The last members of the team were Hitomi and Prometheus. Hitomi, always full of life, smiled in a way that could light up even the darkest night – a smile that hid more than it let on. The golden strands of her hair, tied with a red ribbon, waved lightly with every step she took. A magical glove, carved with indeterminate energy markings, shone on her left hand, as if it had a consciousness of its own. A sword hung at her waist, while a magical revolver was strapped to her leg, ready to be drawn if needed.
Prometheus walked beside her, silent as a shadow. His blond hair – cut short, as if he wanted to forget the past – framed his melancholic gaze. His blue cloak flowed behind him like a river, its golden details shimmering faintly in the light of the lanterns. An intricate necklace rested on his collarbone, with various crystals. The metal, with an engraved symbol, was cold from the evening breeze. From his belt hung a leather-bound book, worn by time, and a bell, small but heavy, as if it carried the weight of a promise.
As Prometheus walked slowly beside Hitomi, his gaze fell for a moment on her red ribbon, which was fluttering in the wind. Unconsciously, a faint smile formed on his lips, until she suddenly looked at him. "What are you looking at?" she asked playfully, causing him to quickly avert his gaze. "Nothing..." he murmured, as he felt his fingers mechanically tighten around his necklace.
As they walk together, perhaps Prometheus notices the small details in Hitomi's movements. At the same time, Hitomi, subtly, notices his silence and tries to provoke him into conversation, making a comment about his necklace.
"Do you think this necklace will save us?" Hitomi asked with a smile, looking at the light playing on the crystals. Prometheus did not answer immediately. Then, with a heavy sigh, he murmured: "I don't know. I wish it would do something. But nothing." The kingdom of Crystallphaos looked peaceful. The magical technology of the year 3999 had advanced so much that its citizens enjoyed relative prosperity. However, behind the shadows of the apparent tranquility, a constant tension prevailed. Rumors of an impending war had begun to leak, and the underground organizations were preparing their next moves.
Arriving at the tavern "The Magical Hat," a wave of warmth and noise immediately enveloped us. The heavy sound of boots stomping on the wooden floors mixed with bursts of laughter, clashing glasses, and sung verses from some drunken bard. The music of the lute spread from the corner, its notes dancing above the heads of the patrons. Smells of roasted meat, burnt cinnamon, and salty sweat choked the atmosphere.
Next to the bar, a giant man with a fiery red beard knocked a glass of beer onto the floor. "Another one!" he yelled, banging his fist on the wooden counter. "You've had enough, Heldrick!" the tavern keeper shouted, wiping a wine stain. Meanwhile, a group of adventurers was speaking in hushed tones in the dark corner of the shop, their gazes sharp as blades. "Five beers!" we all shouted together, our voices lost in the general clamor. The tavern keeper, a burly man with a bald head and a mustache like a paintbrush, gave us a quick look before filling chunky glass mugs with frothy, golden liquid. We sat around a large, round table, the chairs creaking under our weight. The wood of the table was full of knife scratches and stains from unknown liquids.
"To your next adventures, kids!" he said as he set the beers in front of us.
As the group prepares to drink their first gulp of beer, Laima turns to Noctua: "You know, I always wonder... are your symbols magic or mystery?" Noctua smiled, with a hint of irony: "Whatever they are, they get the job done."
Hitomi was the first to take her glass and raise it high. "Cheers!" she said, smiling.
Breck smiled crookedly, Laima averted her gaze with a shadow of doubt, Prometheus remained silent, his fingers mechanically playing with his necklace, and Noctua scanned the tavern like a predator searching for threats.
As Noctua scanned, her gaze stopped in a dark corner.
A man in a black robe stood motionless, his eyes hidden in the shadows that covered his face. She felt a faint prick on her right wrist, where her symbols began to pulsate inexplicably.
"Everything alright, Noctua?" Prometheus whispered, noticing the change in her posture.
"Yes," she answered curtly, but her eyes remained fixed on the corner. When she looked again, the man had disappeared. Suddenly, a voice was raised from the other side of the tavern. Two men had stood up, their faces red from alcohol, shouting at each other.
The noise was interrupted by the screeching of a heavy chair falling to the floor. For a moment, it seemed as if everything was about to get out of control.
The symbols on Noctua began to pulsate, as if responding to the air changing energy. She quietly grasped her hand and glanced towards Prometheus, who seemed to have already noticed it.
As Prometheus looked at the tavern, his mind returned to the moment when his mentor, in a stern tone, had shown him an ancient scroll. "This is your duty now," the mystic had said, his eyes full of demands. But Prometheus did not want to follow the paths that someone else had laid out for him. He had left him behind, chasing his own path.
Hitomi played with a small, finely crafted brooch in her fingers, which she held as if it were an amulet. It was a gift from her father, who always told her: "Your strongest weapon, my daughter, is your faith."
Then a CRACK! was heard.
The tavern door flew open, the wood screeching loudly as if it wanted to protest the intrusion. A cold wind rushed into the room, violently extinguishing the flames of a few candles. Heads turned as if they had been pulled by an invisible thread. Eyes full of anxiety and curiosity watched the "Silver Claw" team that had entered the space. For a moment, it seemed as if the tavern had stopped breathing. Even the ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to hesitate.
The "Silver Claw" advanced inside, like a military machine pulsating in perfect synchronization. Their armor made a metallic sound that filled the room, and their footsteps sounded so heavy that they seemed to strike the very earth. Behind them, their blacksmiths and supporters followed, carrying crates of supplies and weapons. Every movement they made was filled with confidence, every gaze seemed to say that they had seen and defeated every nightmare one could imagine.
A man stood out among them.
With silver hair that shone like moonlight and eyes that seemed to tear through the soul, he stood in the center of the room. When he spoke, his voice cut through the noise like a sharp sword: "We need a fourth team. The Canyon of Shadows does not forgive the weak. If there is anyone who believes they can endure... speak now."
Prometheus felt his heart tighten as the man with the silver hair looked towards them. His words echoed in his mind, heavy as the bells of Aethercrystal. He found himself touching his necklace, his fingers mechanically playing with the crystals, as if he were looking for an answer within it. Prometheus's gaze fell on Hitomi. Her smile seemed so familiar, so bright – but he could see the crack behind it. Her eyes glistened, hiding doubt and fear. It was a moment that made him feel he was seeing not only a companion, but a mirror of his own anxiety. A piece of fear that only he could discern. He felt a shiver run down his spine, as if something deep inside him was warning him.
"Can you endure?" The voice of the man with the silver hair seemed to find an uninvited path into Prometheus's mind, as if it had penetrated deep into his thoughts. A sharp thump-thump of his heart sounded like a drum, accompanying the silence that spread within him. Was he truly ready to face the shadowy mysteries of the canyon? Or was the battle not only outside, but also inside him? Could he truly stand against what the Canyon of Shadows hid? Was he prepared to face the unknown?
For a moment, the whole tavern froze. The conversations stopped, the old men stopped drinking, the card players let their cards fall to the table.
Whispers spread like snakes, hissing among the flames of the fireplace that flickered with a chilling harmony. From the far corner, the screeching of a chair was heard, breaking the fragile silence, as if it could no longer bear the weight of the room's fears. "In the Canyon of Shadows? Hmm... no way, friend..."
An elderly man with hands full of calluses rose from his chair and turned his blurry gaze towards the door. "They say the last team that dared to go in there... never came out. They said one came back. Empty. Like a broken clay pot filled with shadows. Since then... he sits there in the corner, silent. His eyes look past us, at something only he knows. And when the wind blows from the Canyon... you feel like you hear their voices. Not just the wind. The souls that were lost."
A nervous laugh was heard from a dark corner. "If you're crazy, go ahead. I say not even the bones come back." Prometheus felt his heart tighten. It was not just the words of old men. It was the living proof of what awaited them.
"In the Canyon of Shadows... not even the bones return."
"What? Haven't dozens of teams been lost there?"
"Only the crazy ones accept such missions."
"It's a doomed venture... they'll go and never come back."
Most avoided meeting the captain's gaze. An old man spitting on the floor mumbled: "In the Canyon of Shadows... nothing returns. Neither man, nor voice, nor shadow." Some shook their heads in disapproval, while a few laughed cynically, as if they already knew the fate of those who dared to accept.
For a moment, Prometheus looked at the faces of his companions. Breck looked like a statue, unperturbed and unwavering, while Laima kept her gaze down, the tips of her fingers playing with her bow. Noctua remained still, her eyes watching everything as if she were weighing the chances of survival.
Hitomi, despite her eternal smile, unconsciously tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword. A faint shiver ran through Prometheus, but he quickly found the strength to ignore it.
They exchanged glances. Words were not needed. The decision had already been made. They all stood up, their chairs creaking in the silent room.
The movement fell like a thunderbolt on the crowd.
Some sighed, others frowned. A man in the corner, with eyes that seemed to have seen far too much, slowly raised his glass. He said not a word, simply drank a sip, as if he already knew our fate.
"Those guys? Hahaha... they'll become food for the crows!"
"Too young... too naive..."
The captain of the "Silver Claw" stood motionless, his eyes scrutinizing our team as if we were pieces on a chessboard. His palms rested loosely on the hilt of his great sword, but his posture betrayed the experience of a warrior who left nothing to chance. "Alright then," he said slowly, with a voice that seemed to echo in the room. "The mission begins at dawn. No one will hold you back. Anyone who is not ready to fight, better realize it now. Remember... the Canyon of Shadows does not forgive."
A fleeting smile passed over his lips, and Prometheus felt an inexplicable unease run through him. Was this smile a sign of trust or a warning? "We won't wait for anyone. Whoever is not ready to endure... should stay behind. Whoever cannot stand on their own two feet... better understand it before it's too late. And remember... no one is invincible."
Hitomi, although always optimistic, tightened her grip on the handle of her glass for a moment, her smile briefly losing its carefree nature. "Couldn't it be something more... fun? Like an archery contest or a festival?" she murmured under her breath and, before anyone could answer, she raised her glass with confidence – or so it seemed. Then, she shook her head from side to side and, with a spark of determination, added: "But you know what? Since we're all together, we have nothing to fear! We're a team, not only for the easy times but also for the hard ones, where true friendships are made."
"Couldn't it be something more... fun? Like an archery contest or a festival?" she murmured under her breath, before raising her glass with feigned confidence. However, anyone who knew her well could tell that this time her smile was just a mirror to hide her true thoughts. Holding our glasses high, we shouted "Cheers!". Our voices joined the crying of the wood from the fireplace, the long screech of a chair that was pulled away abruptly, the dry laughter of an old man at the edge of the room.
As my glass emptied, I looked at my team.
Yes, it would be a beautiful experience.
Or, at least, that's what we wanted to believe. One of the "Silver Claw" veterans, Galdric, placed his glass on the table and smiled faintly.
"It's nice to start a mission with optimism," Galdric said, letting his glass make a heavy sound on the wooden table. He leaned slightly forward, his shadow flickering from the light of the candles. "Remember... every battle seems easy, until you smell the first blood soaking the ground.
At that moment... you either continue to fight, or you become part of the earth yourself."
We laughed nervously.
But, somewhere deep inside us, the shadow of doubt had already begun to grow.
The mission seemed deceptively simple: a raid on a forgotten canyon that the map depicted as a simple shadow. But those who had returned from it – and there were not many – carried not treasures, but silence. A silence that betrayed something much deeper than fear. "What could go wrong?" The question hung in the air, as if someone was waiting for the world itself to answer. Perhaps life itself was waiting for us around the corner, ready to laugh at our innocence
When the team shows doubt about the mission, Breck comments: "It doesn't matter what we feel now. What matters is what we'll do when the time comes." Then, he looks at his sword, as if searching for the answer within its edge.
When they left the tavern, Noctua, as always silent, cast a final glance behind her as they exited the tavern. Something moved in the shadow – something that shouldn't be there. "Prometheus," she whispered. "We're not alone." A voice was heard saying something that left the team frozen.
"I hope you had a good time, because remember, kids... not everyone who passes the Canyon returns the same. If they return at all." The phrase sounded like a muffled echo in the alleys, but no one managed to see who said it...
Soon, however, life itself would prove it to us and would laugh in our faces.
At dawn, a few hours after Prometheus's team and the "Silver Claw" had left Crystallphaos, the city's sky took on a dark, depressing hue. The bells of Aethercrystal rang out suddenly, their hum echoing in every corner of the kingdom.
The citizens stopped their work, looking terrified. Inside the contexts, the guards ran in a panic, as an ancient mechanism was activated, warning of the presence of demonic energy. The message was clear: something dark had infiltrated the kingdom.
But no one knew that Prometheus's team was already heading towards the same dark path... and when they arrived...
There was no warning. The first blow was sudden—like lightning in the night. The next thing I felt... was my blood soaking the earth...
Add comment
Comments