River and Lud had been walking for days when a town finally appeared, rising beyond the hills ahead. River glanced over at Lud, his expression flat. “So… this is Dougan?” “No, definitely not. You’ll know when you see it. This is just a farming town—probably three days out from Dougan. Still, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat.” The wind had picked up, and the sky was darkening at the horizon’s edge. River hadn’t eaten either, though strangely, he didn’t feel hungry. As a kid, skipping meals had been normal—but this was different. Still, he wouldn’t turn down food. He quickened his pace. “We should find an inn too. Get some real sleep.” “Yes, we should,” Lud agreed, handing River a few gold coins. River stared down at the coins. He could’ve stretched that for a month… at least. “Go find us something to eat,” Lud said. “I’ll book the room.” River nodded, pushing his excitement down. Food and a bed—he was rich. He spotted an older woman nearby and asked, “Is there somewhere I can buy food?” Before he realized what was happening, she had dipped her head in a bow. “My lord. See the young lady with the red hair? She’s the baker.” No one had ever mistaken him for anything but a street rat. Being treated like a noble felt wrong—like he was wearing someone else’s name. He didn’t like the way people flinched or bowed, afraid of what family he might belong to. He blinked, stunned. “Uh… thanks,” he mumbled, then followed the direction she’d pointed. The closer he got, the clearer she became—and wow, she was pretty. Her red hair danced in the breeze, a striking contrast to her deep green eyes.
Her eyes met his. Warmth rushed to his cheeks. He coughed, trying to play it cool. “Do you have any food?” She smiled. “Yes, sir. Come inside and I’ll show you.” She led him in and displayed a small selection of breads and cheeses. River didn’t know the difference.
“What would you recommend?” She pointed to one option, and he nodded. “I’ll take that.” As she wrapped the food, she looked up at him. “Are you new around here? I haven’t seen you before. And I definitely wouldn’t forget a face like yours.” His ears burned. She was actually talking to him. “Just passing through.”
“Well, good time to pass through. It’s beautiful this time of year. What’s your name?” He hesitated, caught off guard again. “Riv… River.” She smiled and handed him the food, carefully wrapped in silk. “That’ll be three silvers.” River reached for the coins, but the three gold pieces slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. He dropped to his knees, flustered, gathering them quickly. “Sorry, here.” She handed back nine silver coins with a smile. “Have a nice day, then. Hope to see you again.” He tucked the food under his arm, still feeling the kindness of the baker’s smile. The silk-wrapped bundle felt absurdly luxurious in his hands. He muttered a thank-you under his breath and turned down the road to find the inn.
The inn was easy to spot—modest, wooden, with a crooked chimney puffing smoke into the sky. Lud stood at the entrance, waving him over. Just seeing him eased the tightness in River’s chest. Lud had become more than a guide—he was proof that better things still waited ahead. “Get the goods?” River handed over the food and tried not to grin. Lud clapped him on the back, laughing. “Lady Luck gave with both hands today.
River didn’t think he had ever been called lucky before, and any feelings toward the gods had always been anger that he was dealt such a shitty hand. But whatever. The room wasn’t large, but to River, it was massive—bigger than anything he’d ever stayed in. There was a desk, a bed, and even a sofa. Wow. Lud looked between the bed and the couch, then gave River a playful smirk. “You’ll take the sofa.” River just nodded. “No complaints from me. I’m used to sleeping on roof tiles. This feels like a dream.” They sat down, unpacking the food. Lud handed him a piece of bread and some cheese, repeating the motion for himself before slumping back on the bed with a long groan. “You should eat,” he said. River was too distracted, still taking in the room. Then he glanced down, realizing he was holding food. He took a bite, but something was wrong. The food grew in his mouth, heavy and tasteless. His stomach twisted. Jumping up, he rushed to the window and spat it out. Lud looked over, concerned. “What’s wrong?” “Not hungry,” River mumbled. Lud frowned, worry in his eyes. “Fair enough. Eat when you’re ready.”
River gazed out over the city as dusk deepened into night. Dark clouds rolled across the sky like a heavy blanket pulled over a restless child. The air was warm but carried a sour smell that unsettled him. He didn’t usually like storms. But now, tucked safely inside, he pushed the discomfort aside and returned to his place on the floor. Closing his eyes, he dove back into his Soul Chamber, practicing the techniques Lud had shown him. Time slipped away. He was jolted back to reality by a gentle nudge. “I’m going to sleep now,” Lud said, voice dense with exhaustion. River blinked and looked toward the window. Night had fully fallen, and the storm had arrived. The glass panes shuddered as wind howled against the building. Lightning tore across the sky, followed instantly by a deafening crack.
BANG.
The sound shook the inn. Lud didn’t even flinch. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing,” he muttered, already turning over. Within seconds, he was snoring softly. River figured he probably hadn’t slept much these past few days. But something wasn’t right.. He turned back to the window. The air outside felt too heavy, too still—like the world was holding its breath. A chill danced up his spine. Quietly, he slipped out of the room. Down the stairs and through the front door, River stepped into the storm. The wind pushed against him like a living thing. He staggered through the empty streets, unsure of what he was searching for. But he knew—deep in his bones—that something was wrong. The storm above felt unnatural. What he once might’ve overlooked now rang out like instinct. Then… everything stopped. The wind died. The clouds above parted. River stood still, every part of him tense. He couldn’t place it—couldn’t say what it was or where it came from—but the wrongness pressed against him, dense and invisible. Then came the sound. A shriek. High-pitched and inhuman. It tore through the silence, echoing down the empty streets. River clutched his ears. His heart pounded. His head snapped toward the noise. Before he could think, his legs were already moving. He sprinted through the alleys and narrow streets, feet pounding against the soaked ground, drawn to the source. He turned a corner and froze.
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A shadow loomed. Tall, wrong—like something not quite solid, yet unmistakably there. It stood hunched over a figure crumpled on the ground. Without thinking, River shouted, “What the hell are you doing?” His voice rang out louder and stronger than he had ever heard it before. The thing moved. Its head twisted. Not turned—twisted—full circle, circle until two glowing yellow eyes locked onto him. River swallowed hard. His instincts screamed at him: Look away. He did. But that was a mistake. It left him open. He forced himself to look back. It scraped against something that was hardwired in him.
The creature had no face. No mouth. No nose. Only two sun-bright yellow eyes floating in a cloud of writhing black mist. Then it spoke. It didn’t sound like anything River had ever heard—not like anything alive. A sound crackled from its form—mechanical, distorted, cold… “Primordial,” the creature hissed. Its eyes gleamed like dying stars. River’s gaze, still locked on the shadowy figure, drifted downward— red hair. A pool of dark crimson. Her green eyes wide open in horror. She met River’s gaze. His breath caught in his throat. His stomach turned, bile rising fast. Sweat broke along his brow as the weight of the scene crushed into him. Swallowing hard, he forced his body to move. Suddenly, a brilliant blue light split the air. Lud appeared between them, tall and furious. Without turning, he shouted, “Get out of here!” Before River could react, the creature dissolved in a shimmer of black mist—then reappeared, inches from Lud. “Now, River!” He spun around and ran, feet flying over the rain-slick stone, his chest burning. But the creature’s words haunted him. “It’s you.” He struggled to force air into his lungs. Was it already too late? River turned back. Jaw tight. Fists clenched. Fear churned inside him—but he pushed through it. He ran. The alley was quiet. Lud was slumped against a wall. The creature was gone.
River dropped to his knees beside him, hands trembling as he searched Lud’s body—for wounds, for anything. But there was nothing. Lud’s eyes met his. They shimmered unnaturally. Sorrow and pain swirling behind them. He lifted a shaking hand. Pointing to his chest. “Kill me.” His voice was broken—barely more than a whisper. River froze. Then he saw it: black mist curling from Lud’s mouth with every breath. His eyes were darkening, stained with the shadowy essence. A chill ran up River’s spine. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill the only person who had ever truly seen him. His chest knotted; his hand shook. Inaction felt like a betrayal. What could he do?
Acting on instinct, River placed his hand on Lud’s forehead—and pushed. His soul surged forward, diving inward. Lud’s soul chamber was dim. Corrupted.
And there Lud stood, beside a river, once great now nothing but a sluggish trickle. The creature towered above the stream, its hand outstretched. Black essence flowed into the water. The crystal-clear current turned to sludge as corruption bled through. The creature turned. Its yellow eyes locked with River’s. For a second, it looked… surprised. Then Lud lunged. Lud rose from the stream and threw his arms around the creature, dragging it down. He struggled to drown it. But the thing slipped through his grip like smoke. Lud collapsed, gasping. River stepped forward. He focused—hard. For a moment, everything clicked. Essence flowed cleanly. He reached out—not with hands, but with will. He called the air to him, wrapped it tight around the creature’s form, compressing it.
Then—something shifted. The mist stopped leaking. The creature shrank. Its presence dimmed.
Lud dashed forward again. He grabbed the now-dense shadow and forced it under.
It shrieked—high, metallic, like steel scraping glass. Then it slipped free again—smoke through clenched fingers.
River’s heart dropped.
Had his efforts meant nothing? Lud staggered up the bank and collapsed beside him.
His face was pale. His lips trembled. “You should go,” he whispered. “I can’t hold it much longer.” River’s chest twisted. “What’s wrong?” Lud looked at him. Pain was written deep across his face.
“I won’t make it.” River couldn’t speak. He only nodded. Lud placed a hand on River’s shoulder. It was meant to comfort. But it only made the goodbye heavier. “When you reach the school,” he said, “Find Headmaster Alerus. Tell him what happened here. But no one else. Understand?”
River shook his head in disbelief, eyes stinging. He couldn’t bear to look at Lud. The shadow began to rise again. Lud’s face hardened. Without warning, he placed a hand on River’s head and shoved—firm, unrelenting. River had no time to resist. The world dropped away. Darkness swallowed him. His mind scrambled, untethered from his body. For a moment, everything felt hopeless. Then—suddenly—he was back. Blinking rapidly, the world snapped into focus. He was back in the alley. The storm had quieted above. His hand still rested on Lud’s forehead. Lud’s breaths were shallow. Fading.
Maybe River could save him. He placed both hands on Lud’s chest and focused. This was easy—just like training. Gather essence. The warmth returned to his palms.
Then shattered. Silence fell. Even Lud’s chest stopped moving. River knew. Lud was gone. The pressure he’d always carried—gone too. No weight. No presence. Only emptiness.
River turned toward the road. Had to move. Couldn’t stay here. Forcing his legs into motion, River ran. The streets were quiet—untouched.
Like the night had forgotten what just happened. But River hadn’t. He knew this quiet. It wasn’t peace. It was hollow. He ran harder. Each step slammed against the stone. The ache in his chest threatened to rip him apart. He reached the inn. Raced upstairs. Didn’t think.
In the room, he grabbed Lud’s bag. The satchel. Everything. Another shriek tore through the sky.
River had no fight left in him. He shoved it all down—grief, fear, guilt— and buried it deep, in the same place he always had. Survival came first. He ran. Because stopping meant remembering. He ran. Because if he didn’t, he’d break. And right now, breaking wasn’t an option.
