Dawn broke gray and cold over Eldoria.
The Warriors Four assembled in the courtyard, their breath misting in the early morning air. Full travel gear, weapons ready, supplies packed for ten days on the road. The eastern trade route stretched ahead of them—supposedly safer than the northern forests, but recent reports suggested otherwise.
"Merchant's name is Aldric," Selene said, reviewing the contract one final time. "Transporting luxury goods—silks, spices, jewelry. High value cargo, which is why bandits have been targeting eastern caravans specifically."
"How many wagons?" Darion asked, adjusting his quiver.
"Three. Plus Aldric's personal wagon. Four total, six drivers, the merchant and his assistant." Selene folded the contract. "Standard formation—we stay mobile, rotate positions, keep eyes on all approaches. Bandits like to hit at chokepoints, so we stay alert at bridges and narrow passes."
They left through the eastern gate as the city began to wake. The road here was well-maintained—part of the major trade network connecting Eldoria to the coastal cities. Traffic was already building—merchants, travelers, farmers bringing goods to market.
Normal. Safe. Boring.
The weight in Nolan's chest disagreed. It had been heavier since yesterday, pressing harder, like something was building. Not words. Just pressure. Anticipation.
They met Merchant Aldric at the first waystation—a portly human with elaborate clothes and rings on every finger. He looked them up and down with obvious skepticism.
"You're the Warriors Four? I was expecting... more."
"More what?" Selene's tone was flat.
"More... warriors? You're just four people. And one of you is barely more than a boy." He gestured at Nolan.
"The boy helped kill a Rock Titan," Darion said cheerfully. "How many Rock Titans have you killed, Merchant Aldric?"
Aldric's face flushed. "I simply meant—"
"We understand what you meant," Selene cut him off. "We're C-rank adventurers with excellent completion records. If that's insufficient, hire someone else. Otherwise, let's move."
They departed shortly after, the wagons falling into line. The eastern road was wide here, cutting through farmland and scattered villages. Easy terrain, good visibility, minimal ambush opportunities.
"Too quiet," Darion observed from his position atop the lead wagon. "Where are all the other caravans? Road this major should be packed."
He was right. They'd passed maybe three other groups all morning, far fewer than expected for a major trade route.
"They're taking alternate paths," Kaida said. "Or waiting for military escorts. The bandit attacks have people scared."
"Smart people," Darion muttered.
The day passed without incident. They made good time, covering nearly twenty miles before stopping for the night at another waystation. Aldric immediately began complaining about the accommodations—too small, too plain, not suited to someone of his station.
"You could sleep in your wagon," Selene suggested.
"With all my valuable cargo? What if someone steals it?"
"That's literally what you hired us to prevent."
Aldric grumbled but eventually settled in. The Warriors Four set watches—two-hour rotations, always two people awake. Nolan drew first watch with Kaida.
They sat outside the waystation, watching the road, listening to the night sounds. Crickets, distant animal calls, the soft rustle of wind through grass.
"You've been quieter than usual," Kaida observed. "Since the forest sweep."
"Just tired. It was intense."
"It was. But that's not what I'm talking about." She glanced at him. "You look over your shoulder constantly now. Flinch at shadows. Something about that mission bothered you specifically."
The pressure in his chest increased. Not words. Just cold awareness.
"The wolf," Nolan said carefully. "The one that made those sounds. It reminded me of the ones that killed my family. That's all."
"Understandable. Trauma has a way of surfacing when we least expect it." Kaida returned her attention to the road. "Just know that if you ever need to talk—really talk, not just surface conversation—I'm here."
"Thanks."
They sat in silence for a while longer. Then Kaida said, "Can I tell you something? A secret I haven't shared with the others?"
Nolan looked at her, surprised. "Of course."
"I'm terrified. Constantly. Every mission, every fight—I'm convinced I'm going to fail, that my magic will falter at the crucial moment, that I'll get someone killed." She smiled sadly. "I project confidence because that's what the team needs. But inside? I'm always afraid."
"You hide it well."
"So do you. That's how I recognize it." She met his eyes. "Whatever you're carrying, Nolan—whatever weight you feel—you don't have to bear it alone. We're a team."
If only she knew.
In his chest, the darkness shifted. Patient. Watching.
The rest of the watch passed quietly. When Selene and Darion took over, Nolan retreated to his bedroll but couldn't sleep. His mind kept circling back to the forest, the ritual, the wolf's words.
Hours later, he finally drifted off to restless sleep.
Dawn came eventually. They broke camp and resumed traveling, the road gradually shifting from farmland to rolling hills. The terrain grew more challenging—steeper grades, tighter curves, rocky outcroppings perfect for ambushes.
"Stay sharp," Selene called. "This is bandit country."
They saw evidence of previous attacks throughout the day—burned wagon remains, scattered cargo, makeshift graves. Each one made Aldric more nervous, which made him more insufferable.
"Should we turn back?" he asked for the tenth time.
"You hired us for protection," Selene replied, also for the tenth time. "We're protecting you. Now please stop asking."
Around midday, they reached a narrow bridge crossing a ravine. The bridge was old but sturdy, wooden planks reinforced with iron, just wide enough for one wagon at a time.
Darion held up a hand, signaling stop. "Let me scout it first."
He approached the bridge carefully, checking the structure, examining the surrounding terrain. After a few minutes, he waved them forward. "Looks clear. But we cross one at a time, slow and careful."
The first wagon made it across without issue. The second followed. As the third wagon started across, Darion suddenly shouted, "AMBUSH! Above!"
Figures appeared on the cliffs flanking the ravine—bandits with bows, at least a dozen of them.
"Shields up!" Selene commanded.
Arrows rained down. Most missed, but several struck the third wagon's canvas covering. The driver panicked, whipping the horses, trying to rush across the bridge.
"DON'T RUN!" Selene yelled.
Too late. The spooked horses bolted, the wagon lurching forward. One wheel hit a weak plank, which splintered under the sudden weight and speed.
The wagon tipped.
For a horrible moment, it teetered on the edge of the bridge, then gravity won. It crashed through the railing and plunged into the ravine below.
The driver jumped clear at the last second, grabbing the bridge railing. But the wagon fell, smashing against rocks fifty feet down. Aldric's cargo—along with whatever else had been in that wagon—scattered across the ravine floor.
"NO!" Aldric screamed. "My goods! My beautiful goods!"
"Forget the goods!" Selene was already moving. "We've got more immediate problems!"
The bandits on the cliffs weren't just archers. More appeared from hiding spots at either end of the bridge—armed with swords, axes, and cruel grins. But they also carried nets, chains, and what looked like mana-suppression collars.
"Surrounded," Kaida observed, water already flowing around her hands.
"Standard response," Selene said. "Warriors Four formation delta. Protect the remaining wagons."
They moved into practiced positions—Selene and Nolan forming the front line, Darion providing ranged support, Kaida controlling the battlefield with water magic. The drivers huddled behind the wagons, Aldric screaming about his losses.
The bandits attacked from both sides simultaneously, but something was wrong. These weren't trying to kill—they were trying to capture.
"They've got slave nets!" Darion called out, loosing arrows at the advancing bandits. "They want us alive!"
A bandit rushed Nolan with a weighted net. He dodged, bringing his axe around in an arc that caught the man in the shoulder. The bandit fell, but two more took his place, working in tandem.
One feinted while the other threw the net. Nolan raised a barrier on instinct, the blue energy incinerating the net before it could entangle him.
The bandits adjusted tactics immediately, spreading out, trying to overwhelm through numbers rather than special equipment.
These weren't like the disorganized groups they'd fought before. These moved with military precision—coordinated strikes, covering each other, targeting specific team members.
"They're separating us!" Kaida shouted as three bandits pushed between her and Selene. "They want to isolate and capture!"
She was right. The bandits were deliberately trying to split the Warriors Four apart, cutting off support, creating opportunities for capture rather than kills.
A massive bandit—clearly the leader based on his better armor—stepped forward, carrying a warhammer in one hand and a set of mana-suppression collars in the other.
"Give up peacefully!" he bellowed. "We don't need to kill you! Strong mages, skilled fighters—the master pays well for your kind! Surrender and you'll live!"
"Not interested!" Selene's blade flashed, driving back two bandits who'd gotten too close.
"Then we take you by force!" The leader swung his hammer at Darion's position.
The dwarf rolled aside, his arrow taking a bandit in the leg. But the numbers were overwhelming. For every bandit they dropped, it seemed two more appeared.
Nolan found himself cut off, surrounded by four bandits with nets and chains. They moved carefully, methodically, trying to tire him out.
The weight in his chest surged.
Surrender, came the whisper—cold, patient. Or watch them be captured. Enslaved. Used.
"Not helping," Nolan muttered, channeling energy through his axe.
He struck at the nearest bandit, the enhanced blow sending the man flying backward. But the others closed in immediately, nets flying.
One caught his arm. He burned through it with raw power, but the effort left him gasping. His control was slipping, the energy wanting to explode outward in ways he couldn't predict.
Across the bridge, Selene was fighting three bandits at once, her sword a blur of steel and fire. Kaida's water magic kept two more occupied, but she was tiring—maintaining that level of control took tremendous focus. Darion's arrows were running low.
They were going to lose. Not die—the bandits clearly wanted them alive—but lose. Be captured. Taken to whoever this "master" was.
The bandit leader approached Nolan, hammer raised. "Last chance, boy. Surrender or—"
An arrow took him in the throat.
Not one of Darion's. This came from a completely different angle, from the cliffs where the bandit archers had been.
The leader gurgled, stumbled, fell.
More arrows followed, cutting down bandits with lethal precision. Someone else was attacking—not the Warriors Four, someone new.
The bandits panicked, their careful coordination collapsing. They ran, abandoning the ambush, leaving their dead and captured equipment behind, disappearing into the hills.
In seconds, the battle was over.
Nolan leaned against a wagon post, breathing hard, mind racing. What just happened?
Figures appeared on the cliffs—not bandits, something else. They wore dark clothes, moved with fluid grace, carried elegant recurve bows.
Elves. But not from the capital. These bore the markings of deep forest territories—the independent clans that rarely dealt with outsiders.
One of them descended via a rope, landing lightly near the bridge. A woman, tall and stern, with silver hair bound in warrior braids. Her eyes held centuries of experience.
"You're welcome," she said, her accent marking her as from Aerendyll's most remote regions.
Selene approached cautiously, sword still drawn. "Who are you?"
"Commander Lyris of the Silverleaf Clan. We've been tracking this slaver ring for three weeks." Her expression was grim. "They've been abducting adventurers and mages across the eastern territories. Six of our own hunters have gone missing."
"Slavers?" Kaida's voice was sharp. "Working for whom?"
"The Eternal Flame cult." Lyris gestured to one of the dead bandits. Her scouts rolled him over, revealing a brand on his shoulder—a flame symbol. "They've been capturing mages and warriors with strong mana reserves. Using them for rituals, as far as we can determine."
"Blood rituals?" Selene's face darkened.
"Or life-force siphoning. We've found three ritual sites in the past month—all showing signs of forced mana extraction." Lyris's jaw tightened. "The victims don't survive. They're drained completely, left as dried husks."
Nolan felt sick. The cult wasn't just looking for artifacts—they were harvesting people.
"Why didn't you warn the Council?" Darion asked.
"We sent word two weeks ago. Heard nothing back. Typical." Lyris's tone was bitter. "The Council rarely prioritizes deep forest concerns unless it directly threatens the capital."
She looked at the Warriors Four, her gaze assessing. "You're all registered adventurers, I assume? Mages with documented power?"
"We are," Selene confirmed.
"Then you're exactly the type they're targeting. C-rank and above, diverse skill sets, strong mana reserves." Lyris pointed at the suppression collars. "They had equipment specifically designed for capturing and containing magic users. This wasn't a random attack—they scouted this caravan, knew there were adventurers escorting it."
"How many have they taken?" Kaida asked quietly.
"From our clan alone? Six hunters, two mages, a healer. From other territories and human settlements?" Lyris shook her head. "We estimate thirty to forty in the past two months. All strong fighters. All with significant mana capacity."
The weight of that settled over the group. Forty people. Drained. Dead.
"What happens to them?" Nolan asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "After they're... used?"
"The cult disposes of the remains. Burns them, usually. Covers their tracks." Lyris's expression was cold fury. "We found one site before they could complete the cleanup. What we saw..." She trailed off, then shook her head. "The Council needs to take this seriously. These aren't isolated attacks. This is organized, well-funded, and escalating."
"We'll report it," Selene said. "We have connections in the Council. This will be heard."
"See that it is." Lyris signaled her scouts. "We're returning to track the fleeing bandits. Maybe we can find where they're taking their captives." She paused. "A word of advice—travel in larger groups. The cult avoids targets with more than six capable fighters. Four makes you vulnerable."
Then they were gone, vanishing into the forest as silently as they'd appeared.
The Warriors Four stood in stunned silence, surrounded by dead bandits and scattered equipment.
"Forty people," Darion said quietly. "Forty people drained for cult rituals."
"And we were almost forty-one through forty-four," Kaida added, her face pale.
Selene sheathed her sword, her expression hard. "We report this the moment we get back to the capital. This isn't just bandit activity or isolated cult problems anymore. This is systematic. This is organized."
Aldric emerged from behind his wagon, his face ashen. "Can we... can we please just get to our destination? I don't care about the cargo anymore. I just want to survive."
For once, nobody argued with him.
They salvaged what they could from the fallen wagon, treated minor injuries, and continued across the bridge with extreme caution. The rest of the day passed in tense silence, everyone watching the horizon for more attackers.
That night at the next waystation, they set triple watches. Nobody slept well.
Nolan lay in his bedroll, staring at the ceiling, Lyris's words echoing in his mind. Thirty to forty mages. Drained completely.
The cult was desperate. Growing bolder. And they were harvesting magic users for power.
Which meant his secret wasn't just dangerous to him—it was valuable enough to kill for. If they ever discovered what he actually carried...
The weight in his chest pressed harder. No words. Just presence. Cold. Patient.
Waiting.