Ashvale's Adventurers' Guild was the kind of place that hummed with the low, constant noise of ambition. It smelled of ale, steel, and old parchment—a testament to the countless contracts signed and fulfilled within its walls.
We pushed through the heavy double doors just past noon. Inside, a dozen mercenaries lounged at long tables, sharpening weapons or haggling loudly with the clerks behind the counter. A few glanced up as we entered, their eyes sizing us up before returning to their drinks.
The four of us—Soren, Arya, Brenn, Tessa, and myself—looked more like survivors than victors. Dirt streaked our cloaks, dried blood stained our gloves. Even Soren's trademark smirk looked a little dulled after our mission in the Hollowing Caves.
But the heavy black crystal we carried with us was proof enough of our success.
We stepped up to the counter, where a plump, balding clerk was scribbling in a ledger. He barely looked at us.
"Name?" he muttered.
Soren tapped the crystal on the counter. "The team that cleaned out the Hollowing Caves."
That got his attention. He froze, then slowly looked up at the faintly pulsing black core. A few adventurers at nearby tables stopped mid-conversation, watching with renewed interest.
"Ah," the clerk said weakly. "You'd better… wait here."
---
We didn't wait long.
A tall woman in crimson leather armor appeared at the top of the staircase, her boots striking the wood with crisp authority. Her golden hair was tied back in a braid, and a silver medallion shaped like a sword and sun gleamed at her throat.
The Guildmaster.
Her eyes swept over our group before settling on me.
"You're Lynn Holt," she said, her voice even.
I nodded.
"Good," she said. "Follow me. The rest of you—stay put."
---
Her office was at the very top of the guild tower, a round room filled with maps, books, and strange trinkets from distant lands.
She gestured for me to sit, then folded her arms and regarded me in silence for a long moment.
"You survived the Hollowing Caves," she said at last. "And brought this back."
She opened the cloth bundle on her desk and stared down at the crystal.
"This," she continued, "should not exist."
I frowned. "What is it?"
"A Heartstone," she said. "A powerful magical artifact used to control and strengthen corrupted creatures. Broodmothers don't spawn naturally. Someone created that nest. And sent you there to die."
The words settled in my stomach like lead.
She leaned forward. "I don't know who hired you under the guild's name. Yet. But I intend to find out. In the meantime…"
She reached into a drawer and produced a polished bronze token.
"This is a provisional license," she said. "You and your companions are officially registered with the guild now. You're no longer just strays scraping by on minor jobs. You've earned the right to take real contracts. Dangerous contracts. Lucrative ones."
I took the token in my hand, feeling its weight.
She gave me a thin smile.
"You've stepped onto the board, Holt. Make sure you're ready to play."
---
I rejoined the others in the main hall.
Soren raised an eyebrow at the bronze token.
"Well then," he said, his smirk returning. "Looks like we're in business."
Arya caught my eye and gave me the faintest nod.
And in that moment, I knew: this was only the beginning.