It was quiet out here.
Not the kind of silence that felt empty
the kind that listened back.
The moment I stepped beyond the village wall, I began moving.
I did not have much time to lose.
If I followed the path I had mapped out in my head, this should be the shortest route.
The trees rose around me almost immediately.
Massive trunks, older than anything in the village, stretched upward until their branches disappeared into the darkness above. Their crowns wove together so tightly that even the moonlight struggled to slip through, leaving only pale streaks of silver across the forest floor.
This was my first real look at what lay beyond our home.
The air smelled different here.
Damp soil.
Leaves carrying the faint scent of rain, even though the sky had been clear.
Somewhere above, branches shifted softly in the wind.
Somewhere deeper in, something moved.
A rustle.
Then silence again.
This forest was not merely the source of the animals we hunted.
It was their home.
And not theirs alone.
Monsters lurked here too.
Creatures that preferred shadow over light.
Things the hunters spoke of in lowered voices.
I kept my body low and my steps careful.
No sudden movements.
No unnecessary noise.
As long as I kept a small profile…
as long as I moved like part of the dark itself…
I should be safe.
I had been walking for what felt like Five long hours.
Maybe more.
Time was harder to measure out here.
But I could tell from the moon.
It had shifted lower now, drifting slowly toward the horizon, its pale light filtering through the branches at a different angle than when I had first left the village.
My steps had remained steady.
Measured.
But my small feet could only carry me so fast.
The distance was beginning to make itself known.
A dull ache had settled into my calves.
My breathing had grown heavier.
Still…
I had not encountered anything dangerous.
No glowing eyes between the trees.
No sudden movements in the brush.
That should have been reassuring.
Instead, it made the forest feel even stranger.
Too quiet.
As I moved forward, the red light became clearer.
No
clearer was not the right word.
Closer.
And the closer I got, the less it felt like a light.
It felt like a presence.
Something hanging in the air.
An aura.
A pulse.
As though the night itself had gathered around that distant crimson glow.
It was no longer just something I could see.
I could feel it.
A faint pressure against my skin.
A pull at the center of my chest.
The trees began to thin.
The ground beneath my feet shifted from soft earth and roots to something harder.
Broken stone.
Then I felt it.
I stopped.
The air had changed.
There was something surrounding the place.
Something invisible.
A barrier.
Not a wall.
Not something solid.
More like a layer where the world itself felt wrong.
The wind that had followed me through the forest suddenly stopped at its edge.
The leaves no longer moved.
The air inside seemed still.
Too still.
As if this place had been sealed away from the rest of the world.
I hesitated for a moment.
Then I lifted my eyes.
And saw it.
The village.
Or what remained of it.
Destroyed.
Every structure reduced to ruin.
Stone walls broken apart and scattered across the ground in countless fragments.
Collapsed roofs.
Shattered pillars.
Charred remains half-swallowed by moss and time.
What had once been homes now looked like wounds carved into the earth.
No life.
No sound.
Only silence.
A silence so complete it almost felt sacred.
What happened here?
The moment I stepped through the barrier, everything stopped.
The forest vanished.
The damp earth beneath my feet, the towering trees, the distant cry of night creatures—
all of it disappeared as though I had walked out of the world itself.
For a moment, I thought I had gone blind.
Then the fog began to settle around me.
It stretched endlessly in every direction, a pale silver mist swallowing the horizon until there was no ground, no sky, no sense of distance.
Just white.
Endless white.
It felt less like a place and more like a space between places.
As if I had stepped into a memory.
Or another world entirely.
I stood still, my breath visible in the cold air, when a voice reached me.
Soft.
Clear.
A young woman's voice.
It seemed to come from everywhere at once.
"Seeker of knowledge… What is your name?"
The words hung in the mist.
I swallowed.
"Ere."
For a brief moment, silence returned.
Then the voice spoke again.
"What is it that you seek?"
The answer left my lips before I had the chance to think.
"I seek knowledge of what has been, what is being, and what will be."
The moment I said it, I frowned.
That answer had not been prepared.
It had not been something I thought through.
It had come from somewhere deeper.
As if something inside me had spoken first.
The voice softened.
"I can only help with what has been."
"The rest lies in your hands."
Then the mist before me shifted.
Shapes began to emerge.
Not fully formed figures, but silhouettes moving through memory.
A village.
Stone structures.
Broad doorways.
Low roofs built to endure.
And among them,
dwarves.
For the first time, I truly saw them.
They were not tiny creatures as the old tales often made them sound.
They stood shorter than humans, yes, and far shorter than elves, but not by much.
Their bodies simply stopped growing at a certain age.
Where a human child would continue to gain height, a dwarf's frame settled early, compact, solid, and perfectly proportioned.
From there, their growth changed.
Not upward.
Inward.
Their shoulders broadened with age.
Their muscles thickened into dense, powerful frames.
Their faces matured with sharp intelligence rather than time-worn age.
Strong jaws.
Heavy brows.
Eyes bright with thought.
Even the youngest among them carried the presence of seasoned adults.
They were not eternal like elves.
But they aged with remarkable grace.
Bodies built for strength.
Minds sharpened by years.
The voice continued.
"More than one hundred years ago, a group of dwarves ventured east through the forest."
"They were not warriors."
"They were scholars."
"Researchers."
"The brightest among their people."
The image shifted.
I saw them now—laughing as they walked beneath the trees, carrying books, tools, and weapons not for war but for study.
Their purpose was clear.
"To understand how dwarven strength could be adapted for the other races."
"So that all might stand against the Chaos King."
"They built this place as a research settlement."
"Not a fortress."
"A sanctuary of knowledge."
The village around me brightened, revealing work tables filled with blades, books, and strange metal devices.
"They discovered something extraordinary."
The voice slowed.
"A technique."
"One that did not rely solely on size, weight, or brute force."
I listened carefully.
"They wrote it into an unfinished book."
"The Book of Shadow Steps."
My eyes narrowed slightly at the name.
"They sought a weapon any person could wield."
"Something fast."
"Accessible."
"Deadly."
"So they chose the dagger."
The fog shifted again, revealing movements.
Dwarves training.
Fast steps.
Light footwork.
Fluid strikes.
Unlike the heavy swings I had seen from hunters.
The dagger moved like thought itself.
Quick.
Sharp.
Precise.
"It was small."
"Light."
"Perfect for agility."
"But its weakness was clear."
"The wielder remained exposed."
"So they created a technique."
"One that enhanced movement, endurance, and body control."
A style meant to make the body itself a weapon.
My chest tightened.
This was exactly what I had been seeking.
Then the mist darkened.
The atmosphere changed.
Cold.
Heavy.
"One hundred years ago…"
"Before they could share their findings…"
"the village was attacked."
The vision shattered into chaos.
A monstrous shape emerged in the distance.
Huge.
Its skin blackened like iron scales.
Weapons bounced harmlessly from its body.
The dwarves fought.
And died.
"The creature had been amplified by demon forces."
"No ordinary weapon could pierce its flesh."
"They were unprepared."
"No one survived."
Silence.
Then I spoke.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I can't be the first one to come here."
The voice answered almost immediately.
"No."
"But you are the first to seek knowledge."
"Others came for treasure."
"For adventure."
"For glory."
"You came for understanding."
That answer settled heavily inside me.
Then the mist before me gathered into a clearer shape.
A woman.
A dwarf.
Shorter than me by little now, yet carrying a presence far larger than her size.
Her hair was long and braided with silver rings.
Her shoulders broad.
Her posture proud.
Her eyes bright and calm.
This had to be her.
"Before the last dwarf died…"
The voice now came from her directly.
"My name… Dasteni Hillhorn."
Her lips barely moved.
"I could not allow our work to be lost."
"So I gave what remained of me."
"My soul."
"To guard these pages."
"To wait."
"To judge."
I looked at her.
"So it was you."
"The crimson light."
"All this time…"
"You were calling out."
She nodded gently.
I looked away for a moment.
"Dasteni…"
"I am not a hero."
"I'm not even sure I am a good person."
"If this knowledge becomes mine…"
"I don't know what I'll become."
" On top of that i am still a young boy "
For the first time, something almost like a smile touched her face.
"We do not seek good."
"We do not seek evil."
"We seek one who can end conflict."
" I can't shake that feeling looking at your eyes, it's not only carrying the weight of what was lost but what will be."
" I wish you find what you truly seek Ere."
Those were her final words.
Her form began to dissolve into the fog.
Light scattered from her silhouette like glowing ash carried by the wind.
For a moment, she looked peaceful.
As if one hundred years of waiting had finally come to an end.
Then she was gone.
Where she had stood, a small box remained.
Resting in the mist.
Glowing softly with crimson light.
The pages she had protected for a century.
Waiting.
For me.