Robin's warning hung heavy in the air. The Shadowwood Coven, an ancient cult worshipping a being of pure darkness, threatened to consume everything they knew and loved. They needed allies, powerful allies, if they hoped to defeat them.
"Who can we turn to?" Markus asked, his voice filled with worry.
Robin considered this for a moment. "The Keepers of the Flame," she said finally. "They are the only ones who possess the power to stand against such darkness. But they are… elusive. They do not interfere lightly in the affairs of mortals."
"How can we find them?" Gordon asked.
Robin shrugged. "They will find you," she said cryptically. "If they deem you worthy."
Markus and Gordon exchanged a doubtful glance. They had encountered the Keepers once before, during the hag's attack, but they were mysterious figures, their motives unclear. Would they help them? One of them did said that he could give Gordon some pointer but nothing come from it maybe they were already forgot about it.
"In the meantime," Robin continued, "you must learn more about the Shadowwood Coven. Their weaknesses, their rituals, anything that can give you an advantage."
"Where can we find such information?" Markus asked.
Robin pointed to a shelf filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. "The knowledge is here," she said. "But it is scattered, hidden amongst the legends and folklore. You will have to search for it."
Markus and Gordon spent the next few days poring over the old texts, searching for any mention of the Shadowwood Coven. They learned about their history, their rituals, their beliefs. They discovered that the cult had been active for centuries, but they had always operated in the shadows, their existence shrouded in secrecy.
They also learned about the entity the cult worshipped, a being known as the Shadow Lord, a creature of pure darkness, said to reside in the deepest, most unexplored parts of the forest. It was a being of immense power, capable of corrupting the land, twisting nature to its will.
As they delved deeper into their research, they began to understand the true extent of the danger they faced. This wasn't just a battle against a group of power-hungry cultists. This was a war against an ancient evil, a darkness that threatened to engulf the entire world.
One evening, as they were studying a particularly cryptic scroll, they heard a knock at the door. It was Sharon.
"Markus," she said, her voice urgent.
"What happened?" Markus asked, his heart pounding.
"There was a bandit attack," Sharon said. "They attacked the village of Orson. They… they took people. One of the hunters from Orson came here to ask for help."
"Bastards!" Gordon felt his anger rising. "These bandits really need to be sent flying to the afterlife."
"Orson's hunters are strong, they should be capable of driving off some bandits. How many are we talking about?" Markus asked.
"I heard there are fewer than ten," Sharon said. "But they're all capable of using dark magic."
"Dark magic?!" Gordon and Markus spoke at once.
"Yes. And I heard some of them bear a symbol on their backs," Sharon said. Then she drew the symbol she had seen in the hunters' guild.
Markus and Gordon exchanged a look of horror. It looked very similar to the symbol Willow had shown them before.
"How many people did they take?" Markus asked.
"A dozen," Sharon said, her voice trembling. "Mostly women and children."
"We have to do something," Gordon said, his voice filled with anger. "I knew some of the people there."
"We will," Markus said, his resolve hardening. "We'll find them. We'll bring them back."
As they prepared to leave, Robin approached them, her face grave.
"You are going to face great danger," she said. "Your enemies are protected by dark magic. The Keepers… I believe they are watching. Show them your courage, your determination, and they may yet intervene."
She handed them a small pouch filled with dried herbs. "These will protect you from some of the cult's dark magic," she said. "Use them wisely."
"We won't go alone," Markus said, his gaze hardening. "We'll report this to the Guild. We need more hunters, experienced ones if we're going to face something like this."
"Good," Robin said, a flicker of relief in her eyes. "Strength in numbers is your best chance. And speed is essential. The longer the cult holds the villagers, the less hope there is of bringing them back unharmed."
Markus, Gordon, and Sharon hurried back to the village and presented their report to the guild master and the other assembled hunters. They described the monstrous creature, Willow's warning about the Shadowwood Coven, and the ancient symbol making it clear that this cult was behind the abduction of the villagers from Orson, and that immediate action was necessary.
The guild leader listened intently, his face grim. "This is grave news," he said. "We cannot allow this cult to continue their dark practices. We will gather a hunting party, the strongest we have and we will strike at their stronghold. We will rescue those villagers, and we will put an end to this evil."
"You know where their stronghold is?" Markus asked, astonished at how quickly the guild had acquired information about the cult.
"Yes," the guild leader said. "This cult is ancient, and their stronghold is recorded in our archives. This isn't the first time they've done something like this. We've destroyed them several times, but they're hard to wipe out. Some of them always survive… somehow."
He turned to Markus, Gordon, and Sharon. "You three have shown courage and resourcefulness. You will lead the way. Your knowledge of the forest and your experience with these dark creatures will be invaluable."
A group of twenty hunters, armed and ready, gathered in the village square. They were a mix of seasoned veterans and younger, eager recruits. Among them were a few of the hunters who had previously mocked Brock, now humbled and realizing the true threat facing them. Even Brock, having heard the report, came forward. He looked at Markus and Gordon, a flicker of his old arrogance replaced by a grim determination. "I'm coming with you," he said. "This is my chance to make amends."
Markus, still wary of Brock, simply nodded. This was not the time for old grudges. They needed every able-bodied hunter they could get.
As they prepared to depart, Robin approached them once more. "Remember," she said, her voice low, "the Keepers are watching. Show them your courage, your determination, and they may yet intervene."
With a final nod, the hunting party, led by Markus, Gordon, and Sharon, set off into the forest. The journey was long and arduous, the fog thicker than ever before. They moved cautiously, their senses on high alert, wary of any signs of the cult.
Finally, they reached the place that they was sure was the center of the unsease feeling in the forest. The air was cold and heavy, the trees twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. A sense of dread washed over them. This was a place of evil, a place where darkness reigned.
In the center of the place, they saw it. A stronghold, it was a large, imposing structure, built of dark stone, its walls covered in strange symbols. A chilling aura emanated from the building, a palpable sense of malevolence.
"That looks like the place," Markus whispered, his voice tight. "Let's move."
They moved silently through the twisted trees, their footsteps muffled by the thick fog. As they reached the back of the stronghold, they saw the door, a heavy wooden portal reinforced with iron bands. It was unguarded, but they knew that didn't mean it was safe.
"Ready?" Markus asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
The hunters nodded, their faces grim. They knew they were walking into a trap, but they had no choice. The villagers' lives depended on them.
Markus tried the handle. It was locked. He looked at Gordon.
Gordon closed his eyes for a moment, focusing his will. He could feel the dark energy emanating from the stronghold, a palpable sense of evil. He could also feel the subtle currents of air around the door, but this time they felt… different. Resistant.
He opened his eyes, his brow furrowed. "There's a magical lock," he whispered. "And it's… strong. I can feel it, but I don't know if I can break it."
He raised his hand, and a swirling vortex of wind began to form around the door. The wind howled, tearing at the air, but the dark symbols on the door remained stubbornly in place. The magical lock held firm. Gordon strained, pushing more of his power into the swirling wind, but the door wouldn't budge. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
"It's no use," he said finally, his voice strained. "I can't break it. It's too powerful."
Markus cursed under his breath. They were running out of time. The villagers were inside, vulnerable. He looked at the door, searching for another way in.
"We could try to force it," he said, hefting his sword. "But it's heavily reinforced. It would take time, and we don't know what kind of defenses they have inside."
One of the hunters, a burly man named Gareth, stepped forward. "I have some tools," he said, pulling a set of lockpicks from his belt. "I'm no master locksmith, but this kind of magical lock sometimes only againts magical means, I might be able to pick it."
He knelt down and began to work on the lock, carefully inserting the picks and manipulating them with practiced skill. It was slow work, and the tension in the air was palpable. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, made them jump.
"Hurry," Markus whispered, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees, wary of any sign of the cultists.
Gareth grunted, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Almost… almost…"
Finally, with a soft click, the lock sprang open. Gareth let out a sigh of relief. "Got it," he said.
"Let's go," Markus said, his voice tight with anticipation.