Snow crunched beneath their boots as Alaric, Rusk, Kaela, and Teren moved silently through the Bronze-tier forest. Morning light filtered through frost-coated branches, casting silver patterns across the underbrush.
They'd just taken down a trio of Snowback Howlers, their third successful hunt this week. The monsters had snarled and howled, icy mist curling from their jaws—but they stood no chance.
"Shield Breaker Slash!" Kaela cried, her sword glowing faintly as she cleaved through one of the wolves. Her stance had grown stronger—more confident.
Teren fired an arrow that struck true, pinning the leg of another mid-lunge. "Got your left, Kaela!"
"On it!"
Rusk surged forward, spear blazing. "Searing Fang!" His weapon ignited briefly as he drove it into the final beast's flank. It let out a choked cry before collapsing into the snow.
Alaric approached quietly, retrieving his blade from the second wolf he'd downed. His aura flickered around him—controlled, dark-edged. He wiped sweat from his brow and exhaled.
"Still fast, Alaric," Kaela said, grinning.
"You're catching up," he replied, sheathing his sword.
Rusk knelt and collected monster stones. "This one's mine. I stabbed it."
"You always claim the good ones," Teren muttered.
"Because I earn them!"
The group laughed as they loaded the last of the spoils into their pouch and began the short walk back to town.
The Adventurer's Guild was warm and bustling. Snowhearth's wooden floors groaned under the weight of boots and gear. The hearth crackled, and the smell of roasted meat and oiled leather filled the air.
At the front desk stood Marla, the always-sharp receptionist. Her braided auburn hair swung over one shoulder, and her green eyes flicked between papers and people with practiced ease.
"Look who returned—Snowhearth's future legends," she said with a smirk as they dropped their haul on the counter.
Kaela puffed her chest. "A clean hunt. No injuries this time."
"Impressive. You're getting good," Marla said, examining the monster stones. "Actually… maybe too good for Bronze-tier fluff."
The four teens exchanged glances.
"What do you mean?" Alaric asked.
Marla set down her ledger and leaned forward, lowering her voice.
"I've been watching you. You've got teamwork, coordination, and actual brains—not just brawn. You're ready for your first real mission."
"A mission?" Rusk said, eyes lighting up.
Marla nodded, sliding a parchment across the desk. "Came in just this morning. A village east of here—Thornhollow. They're having trouble near an old quarry. Livestock gone. Then people. Strange howling. The usual scouts never came back."
Kaela leaned over to read. "Frostbound Wraiths?"
"Maybe. No confirmation yet," Marla replied. "Could be just a pack of monsters using the tunnels… or something worse."
"And they want Bronze adventurers?" Teren asked.
"They asked for someone discreet and fast. You'll be meeting with the village head. Investigate. Report. Defend if needed." She paused, then smiled. "Think of it as your promotion exam."
Alaric looked at the others.
Rusk gave a nod. "We're in."
Kaela smiled. "We've fought wolves, crawlers, and a boar the size of a carriage. What's a haunted quarry?"
Teren raised a hand. "If something grabs me from the shadows, I'm blaming you all."
They all laughed, and Alaric signed the mission parchment with steady hands.
That night, they gathered at the Frostlight Inn, one of Snowhearth's few cozy taverns with private rooms upstairs. The common hall was quiet, save for the clink of mugs and the crackling hearth.
Their table overflowed with stew, roast meat, grilled fish, and a thick bread pudding swimming in honey.
"To our first real mission," Rusk said, raising a mug.
"May we return in one piece," Teren added.
They all drank—apple cider, but it burned warm.
"I read about Thornhollow," Kaela said between bites. "It's a small mining village. Nothing big. The quarry used to be active decades ago, then shut down after a cave-in."
"Think it's haunted?" Teren asked.
Alaric shook his head. "I don't know. But even if it's not… people are in danger."
Kaela looked at him. "You okay?"
Alaric hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Just… thinking about Heartvale. I don't want another village to suffer."
The table went quiet.
Then Kaela reached out and gently bumped his shoulder. "We won't let that happen."
"Yeah," Rusk added. "We're not just kids swinging sticks anymore."
Teren grinned. "We're kids swinging sharp sticks now."
They laughed again, then gradually finished eating. One by one, they rose and bid each other good night.
"Rest up," Rusk said. "We leave at first light."
Morning came wrapped in fog and frost. Snowhearth's streets were quiet, and breath clouded the air as the four adventurers stood near the stables.
A covered carriage pulled by two sturdy elk-beasts waited at the ready. Supplies were packed. Weapons sharpened. Spirits high.
Marla appeared from the guild doors with a sealed envelope. "Give this to the village head, Orlen Voss. And remember—observe first. Don't charge in without knowing what's there."
"Got it," Kaela said.
"Take care of each other," Marla added, looking especially at Alaric.
He gave a small bow. "We will."
With that, they climbed aboard the carriage, and the driver cracked the reins.
Snowhearth slowly disappeared behind them as the carriage rolled down the forested trail eastward, headed for Thornhollow.
It took almost two full days to reach the village. They passed frozen streams, abandoned watchtowers, and quiet stretches of woodland. Once, they spotted a bear-like Furback Troll in the distance, but it wandered away without trouble.
On the second afternoon, Thornhollow came into view.
It was a humble place—stone cottages, wooden fences, and thin trails of smoke curling from chimneys. Snow clung to the rooftops. At the far edge of town loomed the sealed entrance of the old quarry, surrounded by warped fencing and a few guard posts.
They dismounted near the central square and approached a two-story house marked by a carved crest of pickaxe and lantern.
A tall man in his fifties stepped outside. His hair was streaked with silver, and a long scarf coiled around his neck.
"You the ones from Snowhearth?" he asked, voice gravelly.
Rusk stepped forward. "Adventurers, Bronze Rank. Sent by the Guild."
Alaric handed over the sealed letter.
The man broke it open, read, and nodded. "I'm Orlen Voss, village head. Come in."
Inside the house, they sat around a fire while Orlen explained.
"It started with livestock vanishing. Then people. Always at night. We posted guards near the quarry, but two vanished. One turned up dead… throat frozen solid. We've heard howling. Screams."
"Have you entered the quarry?" Kaela asked.
"No. Not since the cave-in years ago. We thought it was buried, but the snow melted early this year—exposing a new tunnel near the east wall. Something got in… or out."
Teren's voice was quiet. "Frostbound Wraiths?"
Orlen's lips pressed thin. "We don't know. No one who's gone close has returned. Our people are scared."
"We'll investigate tonight," Alaric said.
Orlen looked surprised. "You'll start right away?"
Alaric met his eyes. "The longer we wait, the more people are in danger."
The others nodded.
Orlen gave a deep sigh. "You'll have rooms at the inn. Food's taken care of. Just… be careful."
They rose, thanked him, and stepped back into the snow.
The wind was picking up.
And somewhere behind the village—beyond the skeletal trees—the dark mouth of the quarry waited.