The morning sun crept over the horizon, bathing the sanctuary ruins in golden light. Kieran sat on a crumbled stone, bandaging his side while Mira cleaned her blades. Rag lay beside him, snout resting on his paws, eyes wary despite the calm.
Jace stretched his arms, wincing at a bruised shoulder. "We keep running into cultists like rats. How many more of these corrupted heartstones are out there?"
Rolan unfolded a worn map on the ground. "If their aim is to spread corruption across the region, they'll target places steeped in history or natural energy. There are a few known sites, but some are just rumors."
Mira traced her finger along a marked path. "The temple at Greystone Pass might be next. It's an old place of worship, long abandoned."
Bram leaned in. "We should head there before they can corrupt it. But we're running low on supplies."
Kieran nodded. "We'll restock at the next village. Let's move before the cult regroups."
The journey was uneventful at first, the road winding through thick woods and open meadows. Rag trotted ahead, occasionally sniffing out trails of deer or rabbits. As the sun climbed higher, Mira broke the silence.
"Why would the cult even care about abandoned places? It's like they're deliberately targeting forgotten relics."
Rolan adjusted his satchel. "Corruption thrives in neglected places. If they corrupt enough landmarks, they might be trying to warp the land's essence itself."
Jace scoffed. "Twisted bastards. Nothing good ever comes from messing with ancient magic."
Bram hesitated. "But if they're trying to reshape the land, what's the end goal? Control? Destruction?"
Kieran frowned. "Maybe both. Either way, we can't let them succeed."
As they neared the village of Briarbrook, the air grew tense. Smoke rose from chimneys, but the streets were unusually quiet. Rag growled softly, and Kieran tightened his grip on his sword.
A woman hurried out from behind a building, eyes wide with fear. "You're not with them, are you?"
Kieran shook his head. "Who?"
"The ones wearing black cloaks—took over the town hall. Claimed they were purifying the village."
Mira cursed under her breath. "Cultists."
The woman glanced back nervously. "They took anyone who resisted—said they'd be 'cleansed' at sundown."
Jace clenched his fists. "We're not letting that happen."
Kieran motioned for quiet. "We'll approach carefully. Rolan, scout from the rooftops. Mira, check for any hidden routes to the hall."
As they dispersed to gather intel, Kieran couldn't shake the feeling that the cult's influence was spreading faster than they could counter. With every step, the weight of the conflict pressed heavier on his shoulders.
He glanced at Rag, who met his gaze with a quiet determination. They couldn't afford to fail—not when so much hung in the balance.