The journey had begun. The sky, painted in hues of gold and amber, hinted at the promise of dawn. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of earth and dew, yet beneath its serene facade, uncertainty lingered.
Elcos suddenly halted. "Shank, wait—I have a doubt."
Shank turned, concern flickering in his sharp gaze. "What is it, Elcos?"
Elcos hesitated, his voice edged with unease. "What is Ashvile Village? Do you know anything about it?"
A pause. Then, Shank admitted, "I… don't know."
Elcos frowned. "We're taking a huge risk if we don't know anything. It could be dangerous—if we make a mistake, we won't know the consequences. Worse, we might get caught."
Shank exhaled slowly. "You're right, Elcos. Ignorance is a deadly gamble. But how do we uncover the truth about Ashvile Village?"
Elcos glanced toward the distant silhouette of Shavik Village, shrouded in the morning mist. "First, we return. Your secret messenger may not know where Caural is being tortured, but there's a chance—just a chance—that he might know about Ashvile Village."
Shank nodded. "A solid plan. Let's go."
With urgency threading their steps, they hurried back to Shavik Village. The sun's rays pierced through the lingering fog, casting long shadows as they searched for the elusive messenger.
Shank's gaze flickered toward a hooded figure standing at the village's edge. "I think that's him."
Elcos tightened his jaw. "Then let's find out."
They approached cautiously.
Elcos wasted no time. "Do you know about Ashvile Village?"
The messenger's expression hardened. "I do. But why do you need to know?"
Elcos exchanged a glance with Shank before responding, "We'll explain later. Just tell us."
The messenger exhaled, a knowing look flickering in his eyes.
"Alright," he murmured. "Here is what you need to know about Ashvile Village…"Ashvile is a place where the very ground trembles with warning—a village carved into the heart of ruin, living beneath the shadow of a violent volcano that never truly sleeps. Smoke coils through the air, carrying the stench of sulfur and burnt earth, and every breath feels like breathing in death itself.
The village is not built for comfort—it is a fortress of survival, its structures forged from stone and metal, scorched black by time and heat. Walls rise high, not for protection against outsiders but to keep its own darkness contained. The people of Ashvile are hardened, ruthless, and broken, shaped by desperation and the cruel rule of its masters.
At the village's core stands the command stronghold, where the leaders orchestrate their reign of terror. Beneath its cracked foundations lie hidden torture chambers, where screams dissolve into the thick, suffocating heat of the underground caverns. Those who enter these depths rarely emerge whole.
The paths within Ashvile twist unpredictably, narrow alleys leading to dead ends, traps, and secret passageways. Every corner harbors a watchful eye, every shadow conceals a whisper of deceit. The village does not welcome outsiders—it devours them.
For Elcos and his allies, Ashvile is not just another obstacle—it is a graveyard of hope. To navigate its dangers is to walk the edge of death, and with Caural's life hanging in the balance, they cannot afford hesitation. But the village sees them coming, and the fires burn brighter in anticipation.
If they make one wrong move, Ashvile will bury them alive.Elcos narrowed his eyes as the messenger approached, dust swirling around his boots like whispers of a coming storm.
"So… this is about Ashvile village?" Elcos asked, his voice low and steady.
The messenger gave a grim nod. "Yes. It's worse than we feared."
A heavy silence fell. The wind seemed to pause, listening.
Elcos turned to the others, his expression unreadable. "Then it's begun," he murmured. He looked back at the messenger. "Thank you… for the warning."
He stepped forward, drawing his cloak tighter around him. "We leave now. No more waiting."
A tense beat passed—then one by one, the others responded, voices firm despite the weight of uncertainty.
"Ready."
"Let's move."
"I'm with you."
And just like that, they vanished into the mist, the path ahead cloaked in shadow and secrets.The afternoon sun blazed high in the sky, casting a molten glow over the scorched terrain. The air shimmered with heat, and the scent of sulfur clung to every breath. Elcos, Shank, Mitsuki, and Yelena stood at the edge of the volcanic valley, their horses restless beneath them. Before them loomed the volcano—massive, alive, and unforgiving. And beyond it, hidden behind its smoldering shadow, lay their destination: Ashvile village.
It would take a full day to reach it.
Elcos dismounted first, his boots crunching against the brittle ground. He stared up at the volcano, jaw clenched. "We'll need to cross before nightfall," he said. "But even then, we won't reach Ashvile until tomorrow."
Shank crouched beside a patch of disturbed soil, running his fingers through the dust. "Tracks. Fresh. Someone's been through here recently."
Mitsuki joined him, her brow furrowed. "Scouts?"
"Or worse," Yelena murmured, already drawing her bow. Her eyes swept the ridgeline, alert and unblinking. "We're not alone."
The volcano rumbled, a low, guttural sound that rolled through the earth like distant thunder. Smoke curled from its peak, and the ground beneath them trembled faintly. The path ahead was narrow and treacherous, winding through ash fields and jagged rock. One wrong step, and the mountain would claim them.
"We make camp here," Elcos said. "We rest, prepare, and cross the valley before dusk. We'll travel through the night if we have to."
Shank frowned. "Traveling at night through volcanic terrain? That's suicide."
Elcos met his gaze. "So is waiting."
They found shelter beneath a jagged outcrop of stone, the only cover in the open expanse. The sun beat down mercilessly, and the heat radiating from the ground made the air ripple like a mirage. Mitsuki tended to the horses, whispering to them in a language only they seemed to understand. Yelena stood watch, her silhouette sharp against the molten sky.
There was no laughter. No idle talk. Only the sound of sharpening blades, the creak of leather, and the occasional rumble from the mountain. The tension was a living thing, coiled around them like a serpent.
Elcos sat apart, his sword across his knees, eyes fixed on the volcano. He wasn't just preparing for battle—he was preparing for reckoning. The fire in his chest had been burning since the fall of Ashvile, and now, with the enemy so near, it threatened to consume him.
Mitsuki approached quietly, her voice soft. "You haven't said much."
"There's nothing left to say," Elcos replied, not looking at her. "Only things to do."
She nodded, understanding. Words were fragile things out here. They broke too easily.
Shank returned from a short patrol, his face grim. "No movement. But the tracks lead toward the volcano. Whoever they are, they're heading to the same place we are."
Yelena didn't turn. "Then we'll meet them there."
The sun dipped lower, casting the world in a fierce amber glow. Shadows stretched long and thin, and the volcano's fire grew brighter, more alive. The mountain rumbled again, louder this time, and a tremor rippled through the ground beneath them.
Elcos stood, his armor catching the light, his expression carved from stone. "This is it," he said. "We move in an hour. We'll make it to the far side by nightfall, then rest again before the final push to Ashvile."
The others rose with him, silent but ready. They had come too far, lost too much, to falter now.
They mounted their horses once more, the animals snorting and stamping, sensing the storm ahead. The path forward was narrow and winding, threading through the volcano's base. The air grew hotter with every step, thick with smoke and ash. Lava flowed in the distance, glowing like veins of fire beneath the earth's skin.
Then, from the ridge ahead, a figure appeared.
Tall. Cloaked. Motionless.
Elcos raised a hand, signaling the others to stop. The figure didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, watching.
Shank's hand hovered near his dagger. "Friend or foe?"
Elcos narrowed his eyes. "We'll find out soon enough."
The figure slowly raised an arm, pointing toward the volcano's far side—toward Ashvile. Then, without a word, it turned and vanished into the smoke.
Mitsuki's voice was barely a whisper. "A warning… or an invitation?"
Elcos's jaw tightened. "Either way, we follow."
And so they did—into the fire, into the unknown, with a full day's journey ahead and the fate of Ashvile hanging in the balance.