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✩‧₊˚ ❛ 𝓓𝙴𝐀𝖣 𝓡𝙴𝙲𝐊𝐎𝖭𝖨𝖭𝓖 ❜ ✩‧₊˚

》 ‹ 02: a matter of trust

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☽ ➶ ｡˚ —— ❝ nothing worth doing is ever easy, rory. but if you're up for the challenge, it beats sitting around waiting for things to get worse... ❞

——— (( 𖠄 )) ———

The faint hum of conversation and clinking mugs filled the inn's common room, a warm bubble of light against the growing darkness outside. Rory and Hadrien sat at their table, their mugs nearly empty, as the firelight painted shifting patterns on the wooden beams above. Despite the relative calm, Rory couldn't shake the sensation of being watched. She glanced over her shoulder, only to meet the curious gazes of a few villagers. They quickly averted their eyes, but the unease remained.

"You're popular," Hadrien said with a smirk, swirling his drink. "I'd say it's the armor, but that might be giving it too much credit."

"And here I thought it was my sparkling personality," Rory replied, leaning back in her chair. She resisted the urge to tug at her mismatched leather gear, which was both uncomfortable and increasingly embarrassing. "So, what's their problem?"

Hadrien shrugged, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. "New faces in small villages tend to draw attention. Especially when they look like they've stumbled out of the cursed wilds."

"Cursed wilds?" Rory repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That sounds promising."

"Oh, it's delightful," Hadrien said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. "Twisted forests, unstable magic, creatures that'd sooner eat you than look at you. Most travelers steer clear, but from the state of your gear, I'm guessing you didn't have a choice."

Rory's mouth tightened. "Something like that."

Before Hadrien could probe further, the door to the inn burst open with a gust of cold wind. A man stumbled in, his face pale and streaked with dirt. His wide eyes darted around the room before landing on Hadrien. "Sir knight," he gasped, clutching the doorframe for support. "There's... there's something out there. Near the east field."

Hadrien's easy demeanor shifted in an instant. He was on his feet, his hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his side. "What kind of something?"

"I don't know," the man stammered. "Shadows moving where they shouldn't. The crops are withering, and the air... it's wrong."

"Stay here," Hadrien ordered, his voice firm but calm. He turned to Rory, his blue eyes scanning her face. "Feel like stretching those swordplay minutes into hours?"

"I'll pass," Rory said, though she stood anyway. The thought of staying behind while something unnatural loomed outside made her stomach twist. Besides, she wasn't sure she trusted Hadrien enough to let him out of her sight.

"Suit yourself," Hadrien said, leading the way toward the door. Rory followed, muttering under her breath about reckless decisions and knights with irritating smirks.

The air outside was colder than Rory expected, carrying the faint scent of decay. The village's lanterns cast long shadows on the dirt paths, and the fields beyond were shrouded in an unsettling gloom. Hadrien's stride was confident, his hand never straying far from his sword.

"So, do you have a plan, or are we just winging it?" Rory asked, breaking the tense silence.

"Planning takes the fun out of it," Hadrien replied, though his tone carried an edge of seriousness. "Stick close, and if something tries to eat you, scream loudly. I'll do my best to intervene."

"Comforting," Rory muttered.

They reached the edge of the field, where the crops—tall stalks of grain—had turned brittle and gray, as though drained of life. The ground beneath their feet felt soft and spongy, and a faint, rhythmic vibration pulsed through the soil. Rory's earlier bravado evaporated as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

"This is definitely cursed," she said, gripping the hilt of her sword tightly. The blade felt awkward and unfamiliar in her hand, but it was better than nothing.

Hadrien knelt, running his fingers over the withered stalks. "This isn't natural," he said, his voice low. "Something's leeching the life out of the land."

A low, guttural growl rumbled from the darkness ahead, freezing them both in place. Rory's pulse quickened as two pinpricks of red light appeared among the shadows, followed by a hulking figure that seemed to bleed into the surrounding gloom.

"Is that... normal around here?" Rory asked, her voice tight.

"Not even a little," Hadrien said, drawing his sword. The blade gleamed in the dim light, its edge sharp and well-maintained. He glanced at Rory. "Stay behind me."

"Yeah, no argument there," she said, backing up a step.

The creature lunged, its movements unnaturally fluid despite its massive size. Hadrien met it head-on, his sword flashing as he deflected its claws. The impact sent him staggering back, but he recovered quickly, his stance steady.

Rory watched in a mix of terror and fascination as Hadrien fought with practiced precision, each swing of his sword deliberate and powerful. The creature snarled, its red eyes glowing brighter as it lashed out again. Hadrien dodged, but the beast's claws tore into the ground, sending up a spray of dirt and stone.

"Any time you want to jump in," Hadrien called over his shoulder.

Rory gritted her teeth, forcing herself to move. She unsheathed her sword and ran toward the fray, aiming for the creature's exposed side. Her swing was clumsy, but the blade connected, slicing into the beast's flank. It howled, a sound that reverberated through her chest, and turned its glowing eyes on her.

"Bad idea," Rory muttered, scrambling backward as the creature advanced on her. Before it could strike, Hadrien's sword came down on its neck, severing its head in a single, clean motion.

The creature collapsed, its body dissolving into a dark, smoky mist that dissipated into the night. Rory stood frozen, her chest heaving as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

"Not bad for a beginner," Hadrien said, sheathing his sword. His grin was back, infuriatingly smug. "Though your form could use some work."

"I'll be sure to take notes," Rory snapped, though her voice lacked its usual bite. She wiped her blade on the grass, trying to steady her trembling hands.

Hadrien's expression softened. "You did well. Most people would've run screaming."

"Don't give me too much credit. I considered it," she admitted.

He chuckled, then turned his attention back to the field. "We should head back. Whatever that thing was, it won't be the last. The land's not just cursed—it's angry."

"Angry?" Rory echoed, but Hadrien didn't elaborate. He started walking, and after a moment's hesitation, Rory followed, the ominous weight of his words settling heavily in her chest.

Back at the inn, the warmth of the common room felt almost surreal after the eerie tension of the fields. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at their disheveled appearance but said nothing, setting out fresh mugs of ale at Hadrien's request. Rory sat heavily at the table, her limbs aching in ways she hadn't anticipated.

"So," she said, breaking the silence. "Is this what you do? Wander around poking at cursed fields and slicing up nightmare creatures?"

Hadrien shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. "Someone has to. And it's not all curses and creatures. Sometimes there's treasure."

Rory gave him a flat look. "Oh, good. Treasure. That makes it all worth it."

He grinned. "You'll see. Stick with me, and you might just find something worth all this trouble."

Rory's response was cut short by a yawn she couldn't suppress. Hadrien chuckled. "Get some rest. We'll need to leave early tomorrow."

"Leave?" Rory frowned. "Where are we going?"

"The cursed wilds," he said, his tone turning serious. "If that thing we fought is part of something bigger, we need to find out fast. The wilds hold answers, if you're willing to look for them."

Rory chewed her lip, considering. "So, what? We just march into the cursed wilds? Emphasis on the cursed? Sounds easy enough."

Hadrien's grin returned. "Nothing worth doing is ever easy, Rory. But if you're up for the challenge, it beats sitting around waiting for things to get worse."

Rory groaned, standing up. "Great. My first day in this world, and I'm already risking my neck. Again."

"Welcome to Caelurea," Hadrien said with a smirk. "Sleep well, Rory."

She muttered something unflattering under her breath as she headed upstairs to the small, drafty room the innkeeper had provided. Despite the lumpy mattress and thin blankets, she was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next morning came too quickly. Rory woke to the sound of birdsong and faint voices outside. She stretched, her muscles protesting the previous night's exertion, and dressed in her mismatched armor. Downstairs, Hadrien was already waiting, a small satchel slung over his shoulder and a fresh dose of infuriating cheerfulness in his expression.

"Ready to save the world?" he asked as she approached.

"Ask me again after breakfast," Rory grumbled, eyeing the steaming bowl of porridge the innkeeper placed in front of her.

Hadrien laughed. "Eat fast. We've got a long day ahead."

The morning light streamed through the thin curtains of the inn, casting muted patterns on the wooden floor. Rory sat at the small table in the corner of the common room, prodding the remains of her porridge with her spoon. Across from her, Hadrien leaned back in his chair, balancing it precariously on two legs as he toyed with the hilt of his sword.

"You eat like someone mourning the loss of better food," he observed, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Rory shot him a glare. "This tastes like sadness and lukewarm regret. How do people survive on this?"

"With gratitude," Hadrien replied, letting his chair drop to the floor with a thud. He gestured to the innkeeper, who was wiping down the counter. "Another round of porridge for my ungrateful friend here. And maybe a bit of honey this time."

The innkeeper grunted but obliged, ladling a fresh portion into Rory's bowl and drizzling a scant line of honey over the top. Rory sighed and took another bite. It was marginally better.

"See?" Hadrien said, leaning forward. "Life improves when you trust the locals."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time a giant shadow monster tries to eat me," Rory muttered.

Hadrien chuckled, a low, easy sound. "Speaking of trust, we'll need plenty of it today. The cursed wilds aren't exactly forgiving to wanderers."

Rory set her spoon down, her appetite waning. "You keep mentioning these wilds like they're some kind of death trap. Care to elaborate?"

"Not a death trap," Hadrien said, his tone more serious now. "More like a... puzzle. The magic there is unpredictable, and the land shifts in ways that don't make sense. It's easy to get lost if you're not careful."

"Great," Rory said flatly. "So, not only do we have to deal with curses and monsters, but the ground itself might decide to mess with us?"

"Pretty much," Hadrien said, standing and slinging his satchel over his shoulder. "But don't worry. I've been through the wilds before. Just stick close, and you'll be fine."

Rory arched an eyebrow. "Forgive me if I'm not overflowing with confidence. This is the same person who said 'planning takes the fun out of it.'"

"Hey, I'm still alive, aren't I?" Hadrien flashed a grin. "Come on, Rory. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I think I left it back with my vending machine," she deadpanned, pushing her chair back and standing. "Let's just get this over with."

Outside, the village was coming to life. Villagers moved between the cottages, tending to their chores with an efficiency born of routine. A few cast wary glances at Rory and Hadrien as they passed, but most simply averted their eyes and kept working.

"They're a cheerful bunch," Rory remarked, adjusting the straps on her mismatched armor.

"They're wary of strangers," Hadrien said. "Can't blame them, given the state of things. The wilds aren't the only trouble out there. Bandits, mercenaries, even rogue mages... they've seen it all."

Rory frowned. "And they think we're here to cause trouble?"

"It's more that they're not sure if we'll solve their problems or add to them," Hadrien said. "Trust is earned here, not given."

They left the village behind, following a narrow dirt path that wound through the fields and into the forest beyond. The air grew cooler as the trees closed in around them, their branches arching overhead to form a natural canopy. Rory's unease returned as the shadows deepened, the memory of the previous night's creature still fresh in her mind.

"So," she said, breaking the silence. "What's the plan when we get to the wilds? Or are we just winging it again?"

"We'll start by finding the source of the corruption," Hadrien said. "If the land is cursed, there's usually a reason. A spell gone wrong, an artifact leaking magic, that sort of thing."

"And if we don't find anything?" Rory asked.

Hadrien glanced at her, his expression serious. "We'll find something. Trust me, Rory. The wilds don't just act up on their own."

Rory didn't reply, her thoughts turning inward. Trusting Hadrien was a gamble, but at the moment, he was the closest thing she had to an ally. And despite his infuriating confidence, there was something about him that felt steady—like he'd been through worse and come out the other side.

The path grew rougher as they walked, the ground uneven and covered in roots that threatened to trip Rory at every step. Hadrien moved with practiced ease, his sword occasionally brushing against the branches that encroached on the trail. Rory stumbled once but caught herself before she fell, muttering a curse under her breath.

"Careful," Hadrien said, glancing back with a teasing smile. "We're not even in the wilds yet."

"Thanks for the reminder," Rory said dryly, brushing dirt off her gloves. "Really needed that."

Hadrien chuckled and continued ahead, the faint sound of birdsong and rustling leaves the only accompaniment to their trek. As the trees began to thin, the air grew heavier, a subtle charge that prickled at Rory's skin. She tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword, her earlier bravado giving way to a sense of foreboding.

The shadowy expanse of the cursed wilds loomed ahead, a tangled labyrinth of twisting trees and mist-shrouded paths. The air grew thicker with each step, the faint charge Rory had felt earlier now humming just beneath her skin. She wasn't sure if it was the magic or her nerves, but the sensation was enough to keep her grip tight on the hilt of her sword.

"Charming place," she muttered, eyeing a tree with bark that seemed to shift and ripple like water.

"Charming's not the word I'd use," Hadrien said, his tone unusually subdued. He walked slightly ahead, his gaze scanning the path for any signs of movement. "Keep your wits about you. The wilds don't like intruders."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I got that memo when the ground started humming."

Despite her sarcasm, she couldn't help but stick closer to Hadrien as they ventured deeper. The light filtering through the canopy took on an eerie, greenish hue, and the sounds of birds and insects grew faint, replaced by an unsettling silence. It was the kind of quiet that made her hyperaware of every rustling leaf and snapping twig.

"So," she said, trying to distract herself from the oppressive atmosphere. "What exactly are we looking for? A big sign that says 'source of the curse this way'?"

Hadrien chuckled softly, though his eyes never stopped moving. "If only it were that simple. We're looking for anything out of place—a shift in the magic, an unnatural formation. Curses leave traces, and if we're lucky, we'll find one before it finds us."

"Lucky isn't exactly my specialty," Rory muttered.

Hadrien glanced back at her, his smirk returning. "You've made it this far, haven't you?"

"Debatable," Rory said, stepping over a particularly gnarled root that seemed to stretch toward her boot as if alive. "And what happens when we do find the source? Assuming we survive long enough."

"Depends on what it is," Hadrien replied. "Some curses can be dispelled with the right spell or artifact. Others require... less pleasant solutions."

Rory frowned. "Less pleasant how?"

"You'll know it when you see it," he said cryptically.

"Helpful," Rory muttered under her breath. She was about to press him further when a flicker of movement caught her eye.

She stopped, squinting into the mist. "Did you see that?"

Hadrien paused, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "See what?"

"There, between the trees," Rory said, pointing toward a cluster of twisted oaks. The shadows beneath their branches seemed to shift and writhe, though it could have been a trick of the light. Or her imagination.

Hadrien followed her gaze, his expression sharpening. After a moment, he relaxed, though his hand didn't leave his sword. "Just the wilds playing tricks. They're good at that. Don't let it get to you."

"Easier said than done," Rory muttered, but she forced herself to keep moving. The last thing she wanted was to look like a coward in front of Hadrien, especially when he seemed so infuriatingly unfazed by the whole situation.

They walked in tense silence for what felt like hours, the oppressive atmosphere wearing on Rory's nerves. She was about to suggest turning back when Hadrien stopped abruptly, holding up a hand to signal her to do the same.

"What now?" Rory whispered.

Hadrien pointed to the ground a few paces ahead. The earth there was darker, almost black, and a faint, acrid smell wafted from it. Tiny tendrils of smoke rose from the soil, curling into the air before dissipating.

"That," Hadrien said quietly, "is what we're looking for."

Rory stared at the scorched patch, her stomach twisting. "Great. So now what? We poke it with a stick and hope it doesn't explode?"

Hadrien chuckled, though there was little humor in it. "Not quite. This is residue from a powerful spell. The kind that leaves a mark long after it's been cast. Whatever caused this, it's not far."

"Fantastic," Rory said, gripping her sword tighter. "Lead the way, fearless leader."

Hadrien stepped cautiously around the scorched earth, his movements deliberate. Rory followed, her senses on high alert. The mist seemed to thicken as they pressed on, and the faint hum in the air grew louder, almost like a low, continuous whisper just out of earshot.

"Do you hear that?" Rory asked, glancing at Hadrien.

"Hear what?" he replied, though his voice was quieter now, as if he didn't want to disturb the air around them.

Rory hesitated. She couldn't quite put it into words, but the sound—or the feeling of a sound—seemed to press against her mind, making it hard to focus. She shook her head. "Never mind."

They came to a small clearing where the ground was bare, the grass and plants burned away in a perfect circle. In the center stood a stone obelisk, its surface etched with glowing runes that pulsed with a faint, sickly green light. Rory felt a shiver run down her spine as she stared at it.

"That's definitely not normal," she said.

Hadrien nodded, his expression grim. "No, it's not. And if I'm right, it's the source of the corruption."

Rory swallowed hard. "What do we do now?"

"We figure out how to shut it down," Hadrien said, stepping closer to the obelisk. He examined the runes carefully, his fingers hovering just above the surface. "These markings are old. Very old. This wasn't put here by accident."

"So someone did this on purpose," Rory said, her unease growing. "Why?"

"That's what we're going to find out," Hadrien said. He turned to her, his expression serious. "Stay sharp, Rory. If someone's behind this, they're not going to be happy we're here."

The glowing runes on the obelisk pulsed in a slow, deliberate rhythm, casting eerie shadows across the clearing. Rory stood a few paces behind Hadrien, her grip tightening on the hilt of her sword as unease coiled in her stomach.

"This thing looks like it belongs in a horror movie," she muttered. "Are we sure poking it is a good idea?"

Hadrien smirked over his shoulder, though his eyes remained focused on the obelisk. "Poking it would be reckless. I'm more of a prodding-with-intent kind of guy."

"Oh, well, that's comforting," Rory said dryly. "Go ahead, prod away. I'll just be over here, mentally preparing for the explosion."

Hadrien's expression grew serious as he circled the obelisk, studying the runes. "These markings are a mix of old Terralis script and something else I don't recognize. They're designed to channel magic, but the flow is corrupted—twisted. Whoever placed this here wasn't trying to protect the land."

"What were they trying to do?" Rory asked, edging closer despite herself.

"That depends on what's underneath," Hadrien said. He gestured to the ground around the obelisk, where faint cracks radiated outward like a spiderweb. The earth within the circle was barren and dry, a stark contrast to the dense forest beyond. "Obelisks like this are often used as anchors—to hold something in place or keep something out. But this one... it's feeding off the land, draining it."

Rory frowned. "So... it's a magical parasite?"

Hadrien shrugged. "In a manner of speaking. Whatever it's holding or keeping out, the land is paying the price."

"And you're sure it's not just some ancient lawn ornament?" Rory quipped, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

Hadrien crouched near the base of the obelisk, tracing the edge of one of the cracks with his finger. "The question is, what happens if we disrupt it? It could break the curse, or it could unleash something far worse."

Rory's stomach sank. "Great. So we're rolling the dice on whether we save the day or doom everyone. Sounds fun."

Hadrien stood, brushing dirt from his hands. "It's not as reckless as it sounds. These runes can be disabled in stages. If we're careful, we can weaken the obelisk without destroying it outright. That should give us a clue about its purpose without triggering a disaster."

"Should?" Rory repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's not exactly a confidence-inspiring word."

"Would you prefer 'definitely'?" Hadrien asked, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Because I'd be lying."

Rory sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Let's do this. But if we die, I'm haunting you."

"Duly noted," Hadrien said. He drew his sword and tapped the flat of the blade against one of the runes. The glow flickered but didn't fade. "It's attuned to a specific magical frequency. I'll need to disrupt the flow directly. Stand back."

Rory took a few cautious steps away, watching as Hadrien placed his free hand against the obelisk and closed his eyes. A faint blue light began to emanate from his palm, mingling with the sickly green glow of the runes. The air around them grew heavier, crackling with energy.

"Uh, Hadrien?" Rory said, her voice tight. "Is it supposed to do that?"

"Focus," he murmured, his brow furrowing. The blue light intensified, pushing against the green like two opposing forces locked in a battle of wills. The ground beneath their feet trembled, and a low, resonant hum filled the clearing.

Rory's heart pounded as she scanned the forest for any signs of movement. The last thing they needed was another shadowy creature deciding to join the party. She tightened her grip on her sword, ready for whatever might come.

With a final surge of energy, the green light of the runes dimmed, fading into a faint, flickering glow. Hadrien exhaled sharply, stepping back and shaking his hand as if to dispel the residual magic.

"Well?" Rory asked, eyeing the obelisk warily. "Did it work?"

Hadrien nodded, though his expression was grim. "The flow is disrupted, but only temporarily. We need to figure out what's fueling this thing before it recharges."

"And how do we do that?" Rory asked.

"By finding whoever set this up in the first place," Hadrien said, sheathing his sword. "This wasn't the work of nature. Someone built it, and they're close enough to keep it active."

Rory swallowed hard, her earlier bravado fading. "So we're not done yet."

Hadrien gave her a reassuring smile. "Not yet. But we're getting closer."

They turned back toward the forest, the obelisk's dim light casting long shadows behind them. Whatever lay ahead, Rory couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking straight into the heart of something far bigger than either of them had bargained for.