The days of travel blended into a rhythm of hooves, dust, and silence. Eliakim sat at the front of the cart, guiding the horse as the forest thinned and the trail began to climb steadily into a rocky slope. Behind him, Gideon rested with arms crossed, and Varek Dulane lounged in the back of the cart, occasionally muttering complaints about the bumpy road.
That evening, they stopped to set up camp beneath a grove of whispering pine trees. The fire crackled, and the trio sat around it in an uneasy peace. Gideon sharpened his axes quietly. Eliakim used the moment to connect his thoughts to Skyling, who circled the skies above like a watchful spirit. Though far, he could sense her presence clearly now.
"Keep watch for anything strange," Eliakim murmured mentally. Skyling responded with a faint mental pulse of acknowledgment.
By the following day, the winding road led them to the edge of a cliff. A vast valley spread out below, with clouds drifting through the mountain peaks in the distance. It would have been a breathtaking sight—if not for the group blocking the road ahead.
Six heavily armored men stood at the edge of the trail, weapons in hand. Behind them were others—a full gang of hardened adventurers, more than a dozen in all. Their leathers were torn, bandages wrapped around fresh wounds, and eyes burned with fury.
Varek's breath caught. "No... It can't be."
One of the mercenaries stepped forward. A tall, broad-shouldered man with a broken nose and a scar over his brow.
"Varek Dulane," he growled. "You snake. We meet again."
Varek stood from the cart, adjusting his fine coat. "Rikard? What are you doing here? I thought you were still licking your wounds back in Yldrahollow."
"Licking our wounds? Because of you, Varek! You promised treasure, glory—and what did we get? Death traps. Cursed children. And nothing to show for it."
Another mercenary shouted, "You abandoned us! We barely escaped with our lives. You left us to die!"
"You left me," Varek snapped. "I was stranded in that cursed village while you all scattered."
Rikard snarled. "Don't twist this. You used us, and we almost paid with our lives. We want payback."
Eliakim stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning the group. He could see clearly now: these were the same adventurers who had accompanied Varek to Yldrahollow, now gaunt and desperate. But they hadn't seen him during the confrontation. The traps he laid had activated at night. To them, he was just another guard.
That was his advantage.
He whispered internally, Skyling, remain hidden and observe. Let me know if others approach.
Skyling responded with a soothing mental pulse, gliding high above the scene.
Varek turned to Eliakim, eyes panicked. "You need to do something! They're going to kill me!"
Eliakim didn't answer. He stepped between the cart and the adventurers, standing alone against the cliffside wind. Gideon rose silently behind him, axes held low but ready.
Rikard gestured toward the merchant. "We want him. Step aside, boy."
Eliakim narrowed his eyes. "You only seek revenge because your greed failed you."
"And you wouldn't understand! You weren't there!"
He's bluffing, Eliakim thought. They don't recognize me. Good.
He lifted a hand calmly. "I suggest you leave. There's nothing here for you but more pain."
The mercenaries laughed. "Big words from a hired guard."
Eliakim let the moment stretch. Then he gave a faint smile.
From above, Skyling gave a warning pulse.
Behind the adventurers, stones shifted. A sound—just enough to make Rikard glance back.
Eliakim threw a pouch of fine ash into the wind. It burst in the air like mist, and several mercenaries began coughing violently, eyes stinging.
In the confusion, Gideon dashed forward.
Not to attack.
But to throw his axes with precise force at their weapons, knocking blades from stunned hands.
Eliakim used the moment to activate a seal from the Codex of Imreth, the invisible bracelet chaining to his index finger. A small glyph hovered above his palm.
Veil of Dissonance.
The sound in the area warped. Shouts became garbled. Movements echoed oddly, disorienting the mercenaries.
Skyling dove low, her shadow sweeping past like a storm. That was all it took.
Panic.
They thought another curse was coming.
Within minutes, the group broke. Half ran into the woods, shouting. The rest retreated down the cliff path, dragging their injured.
Only Rikard remained, breathing heavily. He stared at Eliakim.
"Who... what are you?"
Eliakim tilted his head. "Someone you don't want to cross again."
Rikard turned and fled.
Varek exhaled with relief. "That... was masterful."
Eliakim turned to him slowly. "We aren't done."
He looked back at the trail ahead. The road to Greyspire was still long. But it would be quieter now.
And the shadow of Yldrahollow was beginning to fade.