The dawn arrived in a wash of pale light, barely touching the blackened peaks of the mountains. Lucian stood at the edge of their camp, staring at the jagged horizon, his thoughts as sharp and disjointed as the cliffs before him. The figure he had encountered in the night haunted him, its words seeping into his mind like poison. It's too late. You cannot stop it.
He had no answer. But that didn't matter. They were already on this path, and there was no turning back.
Selia, Laila, and Elina were already preparing to move, their faces set in grim determination. Selia had quickly organized the group, distributing supplies and ensuring everyone was armed. They would need every ounce of strength they had to push forward, but there was a cold certainty in the air—something was waiting for them, something older than the land itself.
The land beneath their feet felt wrong now. The once-familiar earth had transformed into something twisted. The trees were darker, their branches tangled like claws reaching for the sky. The air, thick with the scent of decay, pressed in on them, making each breath feel like a struggle.
Lucian adjusted his pack, feeling the weight of it settle against his back. His body ached from the previous days' exertion, but it was nothing compared to the gnawing anxiety in his chest. Every instinct screamed at him to turn around, to return to Brigadoon and leave the darkness behind. But he knew better. He couldn't. The magic—the power that had awakened in him and Laila—was their only hope now.
They set off in silence, the weight of their mission heavy on their shoulders. The path grew steeper as they climbed higher into the mountains. The air grew colder, sharper, and the wind carried with it a strange, unearthly hum, like the land itself was alive with dark magic. Lucian could feel it pressing against his skin, a sensation that clawed at his mind, making him uneasy. It was as if the earth itself was trying to keep them from moving forward.
"We're close," Selia said after a long while, her voice low but unwavering. "Too close."
"How can you tell?" Lucian asked, his breath coming in shallow bursts as they pushed onward.
"Feel it," Selia replied. "The land is sick. It's bleeding. Whatever this is… it's rooted deep in the earth."
Lucian glanced at Laila, who was walking beside him. Her eyes were distant, focused on something only she could see. Her staff pulsed faintly with blue light, a soft hum of energy emanating from it. He had seen her use her water magic to bend the world to her will, to control the flow of rivers and streams. But here, in the mountains, it felt different. The magic felt heavier, more oppressive.
"I can feel it too," Laila murmured. "It's like the magic is alive, breathing."
"Be on guard," Selia warned. "We're not alone."
Lucian's pulse quickened. He couldn't explain it, but something had shifted. The air was thicker now, charged with a sense of impending doom. Every step they took felt like they were moving deeper into a trap, a place where the land itself sought to devour them whole.
The path narrowed as they neared a jagged ridge, the rocks slick with moss and moisture. The fog had thickened, swirling around them in heavy tendrils. Lucian's heart pounded as they reached the crest of the ridge and peered down into the valley below.
There was no mistaking it. The land below was twisted, corrupted. The trees had withered, their bark blackened and brittle. The ground was cracked, as if the earth itself had split open, revealing a raw, pulsing wound. A strange, dark energy radiated from the center of the valley, a twisted shape at its heart.
"It's here," Selia said, her voice barely a whisper. "We need to move quickly."
Before anyone could respond, the ground beneath their feet shifted. A rumble echoed through the mountains, and the earth cracked open in a deep, jagged chasm. Lucian barely had time to react before the ground gave way, and he was falling, his hands grasping for anything to stop his descent.
The world spun in a blur of light and darkness, the wind rushing past his ears, and then—nothing. He hit the ground hard, pain flaring through his body. He lay there for a moment, stunned, before scrambling to his feet.
"Lucian!" Laila's voice pierced through the haze. "Lucian, where are you?"
"I'm here," he called back, his voice shaky but clear. He shook his head to clear the fog and looked around. The ground around him was cracked and scarred, the air heavy with the stench of decay. The chasm had opened up to reveal a deep, underground cavern, filled with a strange, pulsating light.
He wasn't alone.
A dark shape moved toward him from the shadows. Lucian's heart skipped a beat as the figure emerged from the gloom. It was the same hooded figure from the night before, its features hidden beneath the cloak. But now, as it stepped closer, Lucian could feel the weight of its presence, as though the very air around him was bending under its influence.
"You shouldn't have come," the figure said, its voice low and chilling. "Now, there's no escape."
Lucian's hand went to his dagger, but it felt useless against the dark figure. There was no way he could fight something like this—no way to match its power.
But then he heard a voice, strong and familiar.
"Lucian, get back!"
It was Selia. She was charging forward, her knives drawn, her eyes blazing with determination. The figure turned to face her, but it didn't move. Instead, a wave of dark energy erupted from the figure, sending Selia crashing back against the cavern wall.
"Stay back," the figure warned, its voice growing colder. "This place is beyond your reach. This power… is beyond your understanding."
But Lucian wasn't listening. The words of the figure seemed distant now, swallowed by the rising tide of anger and fear that burned inside him. He had no choice. He couldn't let this creature—this darkness—win. He couldn't let it take them, take Laila.
He felt the surge of magic within him, that deep, powerful force that had awakened in him during the fight. The fusion. It burned through him, stronger than before. His hands crackled with energy as he called on the earth beneath him, willing it to rise, to respond to his command.
The ground trembled as a massive stone rose up beneath his feet, and with it came a surge of power. The dark figure recoiled, its face hidden beneath the hood, but Lucian saw something there—something monstrous—glowing beneath the cloak. His heart pounded, but he didn't falter.
With a cry, Lucian hurled the stone forward, a blast of raw power that sent the figure stumbling back. The cavern shuddered with the force of the attack, but the figure was not done yet. It stood, undeterred, and raised its hand.
"Fool," the figure spat. "You cannot stop this. It has already begun."
Before Lucian could react, the ground beneath him cracked open, and the very air seemed to rip apart, as if the world itself was being torn asunder. The figure's laughter echoed in the cavern, low and mocking.
Lucian's heart raced as the world seemed to collapse around him. But in that moment, with the darkness closing in, he knew one thing for certain.
He wasn't going to give up. Not now. Not ever.
The battle for Brigadoon—no, the battle for the world—had only just begun.