Deep below the Isle of Whispers, where centuries had passed without sunshine, the atmosphere was heavy with decay and wet heat. Water trickled slowly off broken stone ceilings. Unusual fungi covered the walls, giving off a sickly, pale green glow.
Somewhere in the midst of a large, empty cavern, something long asleep moved.
The shape of the creature was all wrong — half-insect, half-shadow. Long, spider-armed limbs stretched and dragged across the rocks as it crawled. Thin membranes of skin glistened like wet silk over a body designed for waiting and observing.
It was known as a Brood-Watcher — a demon of guile, not destruction. Its numerous eyes blinked open one at a time, glinting like drops of venom in the dark.
A claw touched a throbbing clump of fungus on the wall. The fungus responded, glowing and creating a gossamer projection — like a screen alive. On it, the beast gazed upon the surface above: vessels slicing through the waves, youth spilling off onto the beach, faces full of courage and fear.
A dry, chittering laugh rippled across the cavern. It was like a thousand dead leaves being scraped together. The Brood-Watcher cocked its head.
"The King will be pleased," it whispered in a language no human mouth could shape. "The prey walks willingly into the nest."
The sun rose high in the morning, scorching the sands on the southern coast of the Isle. Seawater crashed on glinting black rocks, sending sea mist flying high into the air. The students stood in rank, their boots sinking into the yielding sand.
The loveliness of the setting did not soothe their jitters. Each ocean breeze brought a whispery hum — a sound like words hidden just below audible perception.
Professor Valerius himself stood before them, his gray cloak billowing in the sea wind, rolling up a long scroll between his gloved hands. His crisp voice sliced through the noise of the waves.
"The teams have been divided," he declared. "By skill balance, temperament, and tactical compatibility. Your task is to function as one unit. Personal inclinations do not count.
Kairen, Dain, Ilya, and Lia stood together in the front row. They had assumed they would stay as a team. After all, they had trained that way all week.
Dain grinned confidently. "Group E's gonna be us, right? We've got this."
But the look on Ilya's face was unreadable. She never trusted assumptions.
Valerius cleared his throat and began to read. "Group E will be… Dain Ragnor… Ilya Veyne…"
Dain's smile grew wider—then stiffened. "Wait—what? Just the two of us? Where's Kairen?"
Valerius went on in his usual bland tone, "Group F will be… Lia… Kaelan Brightblade… and Kairen Zephyrwind."
The words stung Kairen like a blow. His chest constricted.
Lia breathed softly at his side. Kaelan, only a few feet away, sneered — the face full of smug gratification.
"Well," Kaelan said, dusting off imaginary dirt from his golden armor, "this should be fun."
Dain scrunched up his face in shock. "No way! Sabotage! You can't split up the Vanguard-Bros!" He stabbed a dramatic finger toward Kairen, who merely smiled weakly and helplessly.
Valerius didn't even glance up. "Discipline, Mr. Ragnor. You will all obey orders. These assignments are irrevocable.
The whispers along the beach swelled and ebbed like the tide. Some of them cheered at being with friends; others grumbled in annoyance. Kairen simply stood there, looking down at the sand, his gut tight with discomfort.
Why him? he thought. Of all individuals… Kaelan?
It wasn't dislike. It was history.
Kaelan Brightblade had been the embodiment of everything Kairen was not — wealthy, talented, self-assured. And now, he was Kairen's squad leader.
As the crowds parted, Ilya wove through them and caught up with Lia. She stood beside her, her expression always serene, but her tone serious and low.
"Lia," she said softly, "stay near Kairen. Keep an eye on his back. He's quicker than he appears, and he'll have your back. Just… make sure he returns."
Lia blinked. "O-okay. But… you sound really concerned about him, Ilya. Do you… like Kairen?"
The question struck like a bolt from the blue.
For the first time, Ilya hesitated. Her own composure faltered just sufficiently for a flush to mount in her cold cheeks. She swung away so rapidly that it seemed almost practiced.
"Don't be absurd," she said coldly. "He's a friend. It's. tactically natural to worry when a colleague is assigned to an unfavorable team.
Lia tilted her head, smiling knowingly. "Sure. Tactically natural."
"Alright, Group F!" Valerius called, his voice slicing through the awkward silence. "You will take the Whispering Woods sector. Follow the path. Stay together. Protect your healer. Eliminate all hostiles. Do not deviate from the route under any circumstances."
Kaelan lifted his sword, sunlight glinting off its golden edge. "Understood, sir. Leave it to me."
Kairen grumbled under his breath, "That's what I'm afraid of."
Lia looked from one to the other in alarm, holding onto her pouch of herbs. "Can we… not fight until the fighting begins?"
Kaelan didn't even acknowledge her. "Line up behind me. I take point. Zephyrwind, reserve. Healer between us. Don't hold us back."
The three entered the woods.
At once, the light faded. The air shifted — heavy, dense, with whispers that stroked against their ears like soft breezes but held no words.
The terrain was uneven, moss-covered, silencing their footsteps.
It wasn't long before the initial demons emerged.
A flock of Sprites exploded out of the darkness, screaming — leathery-winged, small monsters with red eyes that glowed and needle-sharp claws.
Lia let out a shriek, stepping back as one swooped for her face.
Kairen moved forward quickly, cutting through it with precise neatness. "Stay behind me!"
Kaelan yelled something, but his words were lost in the shattering of golden light as he cast his spell — brilliant energy bursting from his sword in a wave that incinerated half the horde.
The air reeked of sulfur and smoke.
In an instant, it was done.
Kaelan stood tall amidst the wreckage, sweeping demon ash off his shoulder. "Pathetic," he grumbled. "If this is what the threat is, this mission's a waste of my skills."
Kairen dismissed him, turning to Lia. "You all right?"
She nodded unsteadily, still pale. "Y-yeah. Just scared."
But they didn't get a chance to catch their breath before another cloud erupted out of the trees. Then another.
Kaelan smiled nearly hungrily. "At last, something to slay." He led the charge, blasting and cutting them with wild abandon. Kairen trailed behind him, more restrained — guarding Lia, covering the rear and flanks, maintaining their formation from disintegrating.
By the third wave, even Kaelan's smile was gone.
"This is pointless," he growled, panting slightly. "I'm not here to swat flies. The real threat must be deeper inside." He pointed toward a darker part of the woods, where the trees twisted around a cave entrance that breathed out cold air. "There. That's where the real fight is."
No," Kairen replied hastily. "Professor Valerius warned us to stay on the path. The mission is to clear this sector, not to seek out trouble."
Kaelan scoffed. "You can remain behind and babysit. I'm not going to spend my time sweeping up scraps. A true warrior doesn't wait for danger — he seeks it out."
"Kaelan—please," Lia begged, her voice shaking. "That cave doesn't feel right. It's so cold… I can feel it from here.
"Then don't come near me." He took a step forward.
But before he could take another, a noise rumbled through the forest — low, growling, and near.
Three figures stepped into the dimness: Razorclaws.
They were each taller than a man, their bodies mass and bone mingled with black armor plating. Their claws scraped and skidded on the ground, and their several eyes glowed red in the darkness.
They had been attracted by Kaelan's noise.
Kairen's heart raced. "Get ready."
Kaelan drew his blade with a smile. "Perfect."
The first Razorclaw attacked, claws slicing in a blur. Kaelan took it on full charge, golden sparks flashing as their blades clashed. Kairen sprinted to the side, cutting off the second creature before it could strike Lia.
The forest was filled with chaos.
Kairen dodged beneath a swiping claw and struck upward with his sword, the shock wrenching his arms. The creature let out a scream but did not fall.
"Lia, stand back!" he cried.
She staggered behind a fallen trunk, her trembling hands forming a healing spell. Her breathing was rapid and ragged, her terror barely leashed.
Kaelan, on the other hand, battled like a storm — swift, strong, frenzied. But he was bleeding as well now. One misstep, and the Razorclaw's claw sliced across his arm, flecks of golden blood-like mana flying into the air.
"Damn it!" he growled.
"Fall back!" Kairen shouted, deflecting another blow. "We can't take all three like this!"
Kaelan disdained to listen.
Lia screamed as the third beast charged at her — but Kairen was quicker. He leapt between them, the impact of the collision sending him and the monster into the earth.
Pain coursed through his shoulder, but he did not halt. He hacked again and again, until the creature ceased to move.
When he raised his head, the others had vanished.
Kaelan was still battling two at the same time, golden light flashing like lightning among the trees. Lia was kneeling beside him, laying on healing to his arm as he parried another blow.
Kairen stood, chest laboring, holding his sword.
"Ah, Brightblade," he snarled through gritted teeth, "looks like the peril found us anyway."
Kaelan scowled at him but didn't respond. Even his pride was mute for once.
The final Razorclaw dropped with a final, reverberating bellow. The woods fell silent once more — too silently.
Not a one of them dared to speak for a great while.
Then there came another sound — a soft one, low one, like the rustling of wind stirring up from far beneath the earth.
They faced the cave. Its dark opening pulsed dimly with a glow of red light, like something animate was breathing within.
Kairen's gut writhed.
"Don't go near it," he said. "We're done here."
Kaelan didn't move. His eyes were locked on the cave. "No," he said softly, almost entranced. "It's calling."
Deep below, the Brood-Watcher leaned closer to its glowing wall of fungus. The pulsing images showed three faint lights moving near the mouth of its cavern — one gold, one green, one blue.
One of the smaller Sprites crept into the chamber, shaking. "My lord," it spat, "the invaders have made it to the Spawning Caves. They have killed many of us."
The Brood-Watcher's eyes flashed with hunger.
"Good," it breathed, voice resonating like shattered glass. "Let them come. Let them cull the weak for us."
It raised one claw, the movement slow, deliberate.
"Let the little heroes experience their courage," it whispered, its mouth twisting into a ghastly smile. "Before we steal it from them."
The fungus lamps flickered and died, and the cavern became filled with quiet — the sort that precedes something awful starting.