Sylas' POV:

  Arkos had become a second home to me, its streets a delightful maze of culture and magic. It felt as though every corner held a new story waiting to be discovered. The morning sun painted the cobblestones golden, its rays glinting off the crystalline canal waters that wound through the city like a network of shimmering veins.

  I hugged my latest treasure close, a freshly purchased book wrapped in fine parchment—Exotic Creatures and Where to Find Them. The sheer anticipation of diving into its pages made me grin. This wasn’t just any book. It was a catalog of creatures from across the realms, some so rare they were thought to be myths.

  As I exited the bookstore, I breathed in the lively atmosphere. The air was fragrant with a mix of fresh-baked bread and exotic spices, mingling with the faint scent of lavender drifting from a nearby flower stall.

  “Good morning, Ms. Sylas!” called out a Drakonian vendor, his scaled hand waving enthusiastically.

  “Good morning!” I chirped back, the cheer in my voice matching his.

  The beauty of Arkos was undeniable. Its towering spires stretched toward the heavens, each one adorned with intricate carvings that glowed faintly, a testament to the magic imbued in the city’s very foundation. The canals mirrored the sky, and boats carrying merchants and travelers glided effortlessly over their surface.

  “Days like this…” I whispered, the warmth of the sun on my face. “They’re just perfect.”

  Unable to contain my happiness, I broke into a song, my voice carrying over the bustling streets. Some passersby smiled, while others joined in with claps or whistles, their enthusiasm making my steps feel even lighter.

  By the time my melody ended, I couldn’t resist any longer—I had to open my book. Finding a quiet spot near the edge of the plaza, I carefully unwrapped the parchment, savoring the anticipation.

  The first page was a dazzling illustration of the Lunasilk Moth, its wings shimmering like woven moonlight. I read aloud in awe, “Native to the Forest of Whispers, the Lunasilk Moth is known for spinning nests that glow faintly in the treetops, illuminating the forest canopy at night.”

  I flipped to the next page and gasped at the striking image of the Crimson Fang Serpent, a snake with scales as red as molten lava. “Found in volcanic caverns,” I murmured, “it hypnotizes prey with its mesmerizing dance before striking. Wow… creepy, but so cool!”

  The third entry was the Dreamweaver Hare, a rabbit-like creature whose fur resembled a starry night sky. “It emits a calming aura that can even pacify predators. Imagine having one of these as a pet…”

  Lost in the vivid descriptions, I didn’t notice the shadow ahead of me until I almost stumbled into it. I blinked in surprise at the strange-looking cat sitting in my path.

  Its body was sleek, striped with an iridescent purple sheen that shimmered like oil on water. Piercing green eyes locked onto mine as it casually licked its paw.

  I froze, my mind racing. That face… it was familiar. With shaking hands, I flipped back through the book until I found the illustration.

  “Nightprowler Felis,” I read aloud. “Native to the Shadowfen Marshes. No way…”

  The cat tilted its head, its emerald eyes narrowing with feline curiosity. Slowly, I crouched, extending my hand. “Hey there, little guy. I just want to say hi.”

  It sniffed my fingers, then bolted like a streak of lightning.

  “Wait!” I shouted, clutching my book and taking off after it.

  The streets of Arkos became a whirlwind as I chased the elusive feline, weaving between fruit carts, dodging merchants, and leaping over barrels.

  “Watch it!” yelled a vendor as I nearly toppled his stand.

  “Sorry!” I called back, my eyes locked on the streak of purple darting through the crowd.

  The cat led me into a narrow alley, its twists and turns disorienting. When it finally disappeared into a decrepit building at the end of the lane, I hesitated. The structure looked like it hadn’t seen a repair in decades. Its windows were boarded up, and the door hung crookedly on rusted hinges.

  “This has to be where it went…” I muttered, pushing the door open. It creaked ominously, the sound echoing through the dimly lit interior. The moment I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me, making me jump.

  The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and mildew. Shafts of light from the cracked windows illuminated motes of dust swirling in the gloom.

  “Why does it feel like I’ve just walked into a haunted house?” I whispered, clutching my book tightly as I ventured deeper.

  The hallway narrowed, and the walls seemed to close in. Cobwebs clung to every corner, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed somewhere in the distance.

  Turning a corner, I froze. A grotesque face loomed before me, its hollow eyes staring unblinkingly, its twisted grin frozen in place.

  “G-ghost!” I screamed, stumbling back and dropping my book.

  The figure straightened, revealing itself to be a Drakonian woman. Her scarred face and unsettling appearance made her seem otherworldly, but she was no ghost.

  “What’s all this fuss about?” she asked, lighting several candles with a snap of her claws.

  “I-I was following an animal,” I stammered, pointing at the Nightprowler Felis now perched casually on her shoulder.

  “Ah, this little one?” she chuckled, scratching the feline under its chin.

  She introduced herself with a sly smile. “Elranya, fortune teller and keeper of mysteries, at your service. Didn’t you see the sign outside?”

  I blinked, still trying to steady my breathing. “Sign? What sign? I was chasing a—”

  Elranya waved her hand dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. You’ve found yourself in my humble abode. The question is… why?” Her sharp, drakonian eyes glinted with curiosity.

  “I-I followed that animal,” I stammered, pointing at the sleek feline now perched smugly on her shoulder. “It’s in my book!”

  Elranya’s gaze flickered to the book in my hands, and her lips curved into an amused smile. “My Nightprowler Felis. Quite the elusive little thing, isn’t it? But tell me, Sylas, what else might have brought you here today?”

  My breath hitched. “How do you know my name?”

  She leaned forward, resting her chin on her clawed hand. “I know many things about you. For instance…” Her voice softened, almost teasing. “You’re an elf, far from home, living among humans. Your favorite meal involves honey-glazed berries, and you’ve been reading Mira’s magic texts in secret—though you pretend to find them boring.”

  I stiffened, my ears twitching. “Wha—how did you—?”

  “Oh, there’s more,” Elranya continued smoothly, clearly enjoying my reaction. “You have a soft spot for that childhood friend of yours—what was his name again? Ah yes, Duke Caddel. And you still hum that lullaby your mother used to sing when you think no one’s listening.”

  “Stop!” I shrieked, my face burning. I darted forward, clapping my hands over her mouth. “I believe you, okay? Just stop talking!”

  Elranya’s laughter was muffled behind my hands. She gently pulled them away, her grin widening. “Good. Now that we’ve established my credibility, how about a free reading? My way of making amends for scaring you half to death.”

  Reluctantly, I sat at her table, now illuminated only by two flickering candles. She took my hands, her claws cool against my skin. “Close your eyes,” she instructed. “Think about what you want to see.”

  The world around me dissolved into a pitch-black void, silent and oppressive. At first, it was empty, but then, like ripples on a still pond, images began to emerge, faint and dreamlike.

  The first was a towering castle, its jagged spires piercing a stormy sky. Lightning crackled across the clouds, illuminating its dark, foreboding walls. The air seemed heavy, as if the weight of centuries of secrets pressed down on this place. Shadows moved in the narrow windows, but I couldn’t make out who—or what—they belonged to.

  The scene shifted. Now I stood in a bustling town, its narrow streets lined with cloaked and hooded figures. They whispered amongst themselves, their faces obscured, their words inaudible yet eerily synchronized. A long canal ran through the center of the town, its water black as ink, reflecting the flicker of lanterns hung on crooked posts. The air here was damp, and the faint scent of decay lingered.

  Then the town dissolved, giving way to something brighter—a sprawling campus. Banners of every color adorned the walls of grand halls, their crests bearing symbols I couldn’t decipher. Students of all races filled the grounds, their laughter and chatter carrying on the breeze. Some sat beneath towering trees, their faces buried in books, while others sparred in training fields or debated animatedly on stone benches. Despite the liveliness, a sense of unease lingered, as if something darker lay beneath this idyllic surface.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The scene wavered, and I felt a chill run down my spine. A mask appeared out of nowhere, gliding eerily through the void. Its surface was smooth and featureless, yet it seemed alive, its movements deliberate. I turned to follow it, and the vision shifted violently, dropping me into a stark and brutal arena.

  The air was thick with tension, the faint metallic tang of blood filling my senses. Two figures stood at the center, their forms illuminated by a harsh, unforgiving light. The taller one exuded menace, their imposing frame radiating power. In one hand, they held a gleaming sword, its edge catching the light like a predator’s grin.

  The smaller figure struggled in their grasp, their body limp, their breaths labored. My heart clenched as recognition struck me like a physical blow.

  “Duke…” I whispered, my voice trembling, barely audible.

  The taller figure sneered, their grip tightening around Duke’s neck. His face was pale, his eyes wide with exhaustion and fear. He struggled to break free, but his strength was gone.

  “No,” I breathed, the word barely escaping my lips.

  The taller figure raised their sword, the motion slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment. Duke’s eyes met mine—or maybe it was just my imagination—and they were filled with a desperate plea.

  “No!” I screamed, my voice raw, as the blade plunged into him.

  The vision shattered like glass, the void collapsing around me. My senses were overwhelmed—my heart pounded, my breath came in ragged gasps, and cold sweat drenched my skin.

  I found myself back in the dimly lit room, Elranya’s sharp gaze piercing through the haze of my panic. Her expression was unreadable, her sharp, reptilian eyes fixed on me as though she could see right through to my very soul.

  “What you saw…” she began, her tone grave, “it will come to pass. You cannot escape it. But there’s something more you need to understand.”

  I barely managed to look at her. “What—what do you mean?” My voice trembled, the weight of the vision pressing down on me.

  Elranya leaned forward, her intense gaze locking onto mine. “You cannot tell anyone about what you saw—not Duke, not your friends, not even your family. This is a truth that only you can carry.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Why? They need to know! If it’s going to happen, maybe we can stop it!” I stepped back, clutching the book to my chest as if it could shield me from her ominous words.

  She sighed, her expression softening but losing none of its urgency. “No. That’s not how it works. Visions like this are fragile threads. Sharing them disrupts the weave of fate, sometimes making the outcome worse.”

  I clenched my fists. “But how am I supposed to deal with this alone? It’s Duke—he’s my friend! I can’t just do nothing!”

  Elranya placed her hands on my shoulders, her grip firm but not unkind. “You’re not doing anything. You’ll act in your own way, guided by what you’ve seen. But if you tell anyone, the vision’s course may shift unpredictably. You might lose the chance to change things entirely.”

  Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “So, what? I just watched it all happen? Hope for the best?” My voice cracked under the weight of my emotions.

  “Not hope. Prepare,” she said, her voice steady. “Fate is a river, Sylas. You can’t stop its flow, but you can learn to navigate it—if you’re careful.”

  I took a shaky breath, trying to process her words. “What if I mess up? What if I don’t do enough?”

  Elranya’s gaze softened. “The fact that you care this deeply already puts you ahead. Trust yourself. And trust that your choices will matter, even if you don’t see it right away.”

  Elranya moved closer, her footsteps soft against the creaking floorboards. She held out the cup of tea, her sharp features gentler now. “Drink,” she urged softly, her earlier playfulness completely gone. “It will calm you. You’re trembling.”

  I hesitated, my hands trembling so badly that I could barely keep hold of the book. “Will it stop these visions? Will it help me forget?”

  She shook her head. “No. You won’t forget. But it will steady your heart and help you think clearly. You’ll need clarity to face what lies ahead.”

  Tears stung my eyes as the memory of Duke’s lifeless gaze surfaced again, vivid and inescapable. “I don’t want clarity,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I just want it to go away.”

  Elranya sighed, setting the tea back on the table. “Running from it won’t change anything. Ignorance won’t protect him—or you.”

  Her words cut deep, and I found myself frozen, unsure of what to do. My legs moved before I could think, carrying me toward the door as panic overtook me.

  “I have to go,” I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

  Elranya’s voice followed me, calm but firm. “You can leave if you wish, but know this: what you saw cannot be undone. Not unless you’re willing to fight for it.”

  I paused at the door, my hand on the handle, trembling. Her words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. I didn’t turn back. Instead, I threw the door open and stumbled out into the night, clutching the book like a lifeline, tears streaming down my face.

  Her voice echoed faintly behind me as I ran, a soft murmur lost to the wind. “May the stars guide you, child. You’ll need their light in the darkness ahead.”

  Duke’s POV:

  Sylas sat at the table, her trembling hands clutching the book tightly. Kael and Lief hovered near her, both unsure how to help. I stood by the doorway, silently watching her struggle to steady herself.

  Before I could step forward, hurried footsteps thundered up the stairs. The door burst open, and Mira and Vaelrik rushed in, their expressions a mix of concern and urgency.

  “What happened?” Mira’s sharp voice cut through the tense silence as she scanned the room. Her gaze landed on Sylas, then darted to me. “We heard screaming!”

  Vaelrik followed, his imposing figure towering in the cramped space. “Are we under attack?” His hand instinctively hovered near his weapon.

  Sylas shook her head weakly, not meeting their eyes. “No. It’s… it’s nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Mira exclaimed, crossing her arms. “Sylas, you’re as pale as a ghost. What happened?”

  Kael and Lief exchanged uneasy glances. I sighed, knowing they weren’t going to let it go.

  “It was a misunderstanding,” I said, stepping between them. “She got startled, that’s all. Right, Sylas?”

  Sylas looked up at me, her eyes briefly meeting mine before she nodded. “Yeah, just a bad scare.”

  Mira frowned, clearly unconvinced. She crouched beside Sylas, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You sure? You can tell us if something’s wrong.”

  Sylas hesitated, glancing at the book she held. Her grip tightened for a moment before she forced a small smile. “I’m okay. Really.”

  Vaelrik’s gaze lingered on her, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see through her words. “Fine,” he said finally, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced. “But if anything happens again, you come to me immediately. Understand?”

  “Yes, Vaelrik,” Sylas mumbled, looking down.

  Mira straightened, brushing her hands against her pants. “Alright, but if I hear one more scream, I’m dragging all of you back downstairs myself.”

  Vaelrik turned to me, his expression softening. “Jorven’s back. He brought your weapons. That’s what I came up here to tell you before we heard all this commotion.”

  I blinked, relief washing over me. So Jorven wasn’t some shady figure with a hidden agenda. All my suspicions faded in an instant. “Thanks,” I said, glancing at the others. “Let’s head down.”

  Sylas stood hesitantly, still clutching the book. Mira shot her a reassuring smile. “Come on, we’ll cheer you up. Maybe you got something fancy from Jorven.”

  “Yeah,” Lief chimed in, his usual grin back in place. “You could end up with the coolest weapon out of all of us.”

  Sylas managed a faint smile, Mira’s and Lief’s words lifting her spirits a little.

  We all filed downstairs to the main hall, where Lief’s family stood near the door. His parents and older brother waited for him, their faces lighting up when they saw him.

  “Lief!” his father called, holding out his arms.

  “Hey!” Lief rushed to them, hugging each of them tightly. “I’m going with them for now, okay? Don’t worry.”

  His mother cupped his face, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “We trust you, Lief. Just… be safe, alright?”

  “Of course,” Lief said with a grin before turning back to us. “See you guys soon! And Duke—don’t forget our promise.”

  I nodded, smiling. “I won’t.”

  As Lief and his family left, I turned to see Jorven sprawled on the couch, his massive frame somehow managing to look comfortable. His loud snores filled the room, completely oblivious to the world.

  But my attention was quickly drawn to Kaldor, who stood by the fireplace. He was holding something high in the air—a massive hammer that gleamed faintly under the flickering light.

  “Kaldor?” Mira called, stepping closer.

  He turned, his face breaking into a toothy grin as he held up his new weapons—a massive hammer that was nothing short of breathtaking. The head was etched with intricate carvings of roaring bears, its surface adorned with clawed patterns and faintly glowing runes. On one side, the hammer's face gleamed with a smooth, polished surface meant for blunt strikes, while the other side was adorned with wicked spikes designed to pierce armor. At the back of the head, a sharp, curved axe blade extended, adding versatility to the already fearsome weapon.

  Despite its intimidating new features, Kaldor swung the hammer effortlessly, his grin widening as he gave it a quick twirl. “It’s lighter than I expected!” he exclaimed. “Jorven must have worked some serious magic on this thing.”

  “It’s stunning,” Mira said, stepping closer. “And those runes—they’re glowing.”

  “They’re for the shock enchantment,” Kaldor explained, tapping the faint markings near the hammer’s head. “Jorven said it releases a burst of energy on impact, but that’s not all. The weight distribution feels perfect, even with the added spikes and blade.”

  Mira reached for his shield, which leaned against the wall. It matched the hammer’s aesthetic—sturdy and imposing. The shield’s surface was reinforced with durable metal plating, and at its center was an emblem of a bear’s paw, intricately embossed and slightly raised. “And this?”

  “This absorbs the force of incoming strikes and reflects it back,” Kaldor said with pride, running his hand over the emblem. “Perfect combination, right?”

  Mira raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’ve got enough features to take down a whole army. Try not to hog all the glory in our next fight.”

  “Not a chance,” Kaldor said with a playful chuckle, lifting the hammer high again to admire it.

  The rest of us gathered around the large bag Jorven had brought, excitement bubbling in the air. One by one, everyone reached in to retrieve their weapons. Mira gasped as she pulled hers out, a wide grin spreading across her face. Kael inspected his with his usual quiet intensity, while Kaldor’s eyes lit up at the sight of his.

  “Jorven really outdid himself,” Mira murmured, holding her weapon carefully.

  Kael nodded, his expression unreadable, though the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah. These are… perfect.”

  Finally, I stepped forward, reaching into the bag. My heart pounded as I pushed aside layers of cloth, searching for the familiar weight of my two swords.

  But as the seconds stretched on, my hands found nothing.

  “Where…” I muttered, glancing up at the others.

  “Duke?” Mira asked, tilting her head in confusion.

  “They’re not here,” I said, my voice tight with disbelief. “My swords… they’re not in the bag.”

  Everyone froze.

  “Not here?” Vaelrik echoed, his brow furrowing as he stepped forward. “Are you sure? Jorven said he had all your weapons delivered.”

  “I’m sure,” I said through clenched teeth.

  Kael crouched beside me, rummaging through the bag himself. After a few moments, he looked up, his expression grim. “Nothing.”

  Jorven let out a loud snore from the couch, still oblivious to the rising tension in the room.

  Sylas hesitated, taking a small step toward me. “Duke… maybe they’re somewhere else? Maybe Jorven misplaced them?”

  I shook my head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Something wasn’t right.

  “Or someone else has them,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Who?” Mira asked, her voice laced with concern.

  “I don’t know,” I replied, staring at the empty bag. “But I’m going to find out.”