Arc 1, Chapter 8: The Shrine Maiden

  Crimson light flickered between Ash's fingers.

  The river was a sheet of dark glass under the fading sky. Mist clung to the reeds and half-submerged stones. Across the water, the trees were flat silhouettes. Ash fed the warmth behind his ribs into the flame. The sphere grew to the size of an apple. Heat warped the air above his palm.

  *Hold it. Do not release.*

  The drain on his energy was constant. He had spent a month building these reserves, and now the power felt like a weight growing heavier with every second. The sphere wavered. Ash forced his concentration into the center of the fire. The sphere stayed round and still, burning without fuel in his hand.

  Insects buzzed in the reeds. A fish splashed downstream, and the ripples moved outward until the current smoothed them. The scent of wet earth and rot filled the air. Thornwood always smelled of decay.

  The sphere collapsed. Sparks hit the water and vanished. Ash exhaled, watching his breath mist in the cold air.

  *Again.*

  The fire bloomed. He held it until his focus slipped. The sun finished dropping behind the trees. Stars appeared in the gaps between the branches. The temperature fell. Dampness soaked into his clothes and skin. His joints began to ache from sitting in the same position.

  The river sounded louder in the dark. Water pulled at the bank, a constant sound of liquid hitting earth. Ash's hands shook. The Seed of Life pulsed with a dull throb in his chest. He was exhausted. He let the last flame die. Darkness filled the clearing.

  The grass was wet. Ash lowered himself to the ground, feeling the cold spread across his shoulders. Above him, the sky was black and filled with stars. Something screamed in the distance. The sound cut off.

  Ash closed his eyes.

  He woke to a presence in the dark. He felt a weight in the air, the sensation of being watched. His fingers found the dagger handle before he opened his eyes.

  The world returned in pieces. He felt the cold ground and heard the river. He smelled water and a clean scent like mountain snow.

  A person stood over him. She wore white robes. The fabric was heavy and layered. A dragon was stitched into the cloth with silver thread. The scales caught the starlight. Frost-colored hair fell past her shoulders. She stood perfectly still. Her face was angled toward him, but her eyes were clouded and colorless.

  A greatsword hilt rose over her right shoulder. The blade was strapped to her back. The metal was long and wide, a weapon that required massive strength to swing. She was silent. Her head tilted to the side as if she were listening to something Ash could not hear.

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  Ash lunged. He drove his steel toward her. Her hand moved with a casual precision. Her palm met his attack. Pale light flared between them, stopping the dagger edge like a stone wall. The impact vibrated through Ash's wrist and shoulder.

  She did not step back. Her blind eyes stayed fixed on the space where Ash stood. Ash scrambled backward on the wet grass. He put ten paces between them. He kept the dagger raised.

  "Why are you here?" Ash rasped.

  "Your house sent a request," she said. Her voice was flat and lacked any emotion. "The impurity in this region is spreading. I was sent to contain it."

  Ash recognized the robes and the sword from old books. This was a dragon shrine maiden. They were born blind and could sense corruption. He had never met one in eighty years of living. This was a change in the timeline he remembered.

  Isolde stood patient. She showed no aggression.

  "You have no core," she said. Her blind gaze settled on his chest. "Corruption feels like a fever. Mana cores feel like fire. You carry something else. It pulses with warmth I cannot name." She reached a finger toward his sternum. "What is that, Valendris?"

  Ash felt a chill in his stomach. She was sensing the Seed. "Do not worry about it," he said.

  She lowered her hand. She did not argue.

  "I am Isolde. Dragon Shrine," she said. She inclined her head. It was the gesture of an equal.

  Isolde went still. She turned toward the forest. Her blind eyes widened. She lowered her weight and reached for the hilt of the greatsword.

  "Something approaches," she said. "Multiple creatures. Closing fast." She did not wait for a debate. "Is there shelter nearby?"

  "This way," Ash said.

  They ran into the trees. Thorns clawed at Ash's skin. Mist filled the undergrowth and turned the air thick. Isolde moved behind him without a sound. She navigated the roots and branches with fluid certainty. She stepped over obstacles before they could trip her. The greatsword did not snag on the brush.

  Pale fungi grew on the rotting logs. They gave off a faint glow. Something crashed through the woods behind them. A snarl answered from the left.

  The cliff face appeared in the shadows. The cave mouth was a dark hole at the base of the stone. Isolde raised her hand. Pale light flowed from her palm and spread across the entrance. The glow formed patterns on the rock. It was a ward woven from light.

  They stepped inside. The light revealed the damage from Ash's month of training. Black scorch marks climbed the walls. Craters were gouged into the stone. The ceiling was covered in soot. Debris and shattered rock littered the floor.

  Isolde turned her head slowly.

  "What happened here?" she asked.

  "Training," Ash said. He leaned against the stone wall. "This is where I spent my trial."

  Isolde accepted the answer. She crossed to the opposite wall and sat down. She drew the greatsword in one motion and laid it across her lap. The dark metal stretched from one thigh to the other. Her fingers rested on the blade.

  The cave went silent. The ward-light held back the forest. The sounds of pursuit faded.

  Minutes passed. The cave was cold. Stone leached the heat from Ash's back. Water dripped in the back of the cavern. The air smelled of old smoke and the faint sweetness of corruption. Isolde sat straight-backed. Her blind eyes moved occasionally, tracking sensations Ash could not feel.

  The silence grew heavy.

  A rumble started in the distance. It was a deep sound that came from below the horizon. It built slowly until the cave walls vibrated. A roar followed. It was a vast, old sound that made the air feel heavy.

  The ward-light flickered. Isolde's fingers tightened on the sword hilt. Her spine straightened. She turned toward the sound. Ash saw her face in the pale light. He saw recognition. He also saw fear.

  The roar faded. The night pressed against the ward.