Chapter Text
Cataract Gateway was known as one of the most important towns for anyone dreaming of becoming an adventurer. It was a place where seasoned warriors, mages, and scouts trained those who came from distant villages like Mana Ridge and Ironwood.
The air was alive with clanging metal, laughter, and the chatter of merchants calling out their prices. Blacksmiths worked tirelessly at their forges, while traders from all directions set up stalls, hoping to profit from the steady stream of adventurers passing through. The town smelled of iron, baked bread, and wood smoke, a comforting mix that spoke of both danger and safety.
Jimmy and Grian stood in quiet awe as they entered the bustling streets. The cobblestone roads gleamed faintly under the sunlight, a stark contrast to the snow-laden paths of their mountain home.
“It’s so warm here,” Jimmy said, stretching out his arms as if embracing the air itself. “Feels weird not slipping on ice every few steps.”
Grian gave a faint smile, his eyes scanning the neat rows of stone buildings.
“Weird, yeah,” he replied softly. “But it’s better than freezing, I guess.”
Though he tried to keep his tone calm, there was a spark of wonder in his gaze that he quickly tried to hide when Jimmy glanced at him.
Scout Fergus led the way with an easy stride, pointing toward various landmarks.
“That’s the inn you’ll be staying in,” he said, nodding to a two-story building with lanterns hanging by its doorway. “Food’s good, beds are better. You’ll find supplies just down that street. Potions, weapons, even maps if you know how to read them.”
Jimmy nodded eagerly, taking in every word.
“So this is where adventurers start, huh? The real deal,” he said.
Grian, trailing slightly behind, kept his hands tucked into his sleeves.
“The real deal,” he echoed, though his mind wandered elsewhere, thinking about how many people started here and never made it back.
Scar and Tango, walking close behind, exchanged a knowing look. Tango grinned.
“You two look like you’ve never seen a town before.”
Jimmy laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s just different from what we’re used to.”
Grian’s lips quirked upward faintly.
“You could say that,” he added. “No snowstorms, no frozen roofs collapsing overnight. It’s almost too peaceful.”
His tone was light, but the way his eyes darted around revealed that he wasn’t used to such openness or such noise.
They crossed a stone bridge that arched over a river running through the town, the water sparkling under the sun. Scar slowed his pace beside them.
“Don’t worry,” he said with a smile. “Everyone’s a little overwhelmed their first time in Cataract.”
Jimmy leaned over the railing, watching the water ripple.
“Still feels unreal,” he admitted.
Grian watched him quietly, then nodded once.
“Maybe that’s the point,” he said.
Unreal or not, it was the first step forward, though he kept that thought to himself.
At the heart of the town stood a large fountain adorned with glowing blue crystals, their light refracting in the misty spray. Children laughed as they tossed coins into the water, while travelers rested on the surrounding benches.
Jimmy’s eyes lit up.
“Look at that, Grian, it’s beautiful!” he said, his voice filled with awe.
Grian stepped closer, his reflection flickering in the water.
“Yeah,” he murmured, almost too quietly to hear. “It is.”
Tango stopped beside them, his usual grin softening.
“Welcome to Cataract Gateway,” he said. “This is where the real journey begins.”
Jimmy smiled, excitement bubbling inside him. Beside him, Grian’s expression was calmer, his thoughts distant yet steady.
He wasn’t sure if he was ready for what lay ahead, but watching his brother’s determination, he decided to try.
“Master Deckard!” Scout Fergus called out, waving to the man standing at the far end of the guild hall. The four adventurers turned toward the voice, watching as the man in question looked up from a pile of papers on his desk.
Before them stood a man in his forties with a sharp mustache and neatly slicked-back brown hair. His posture carried authority, but his eyes held a welcoming glint.
“Scout Fergus! What brings you here?” Master Deckard greeted warmly, stepping forward with open arms. His gaze shifted to the group behind Fergus. “And who might these new faces be?”
Fergus stepped aside with a proud grin, gesturing toward the four adventurers. “These are the ones Father Leonard from Mana Ridge and Mayor Harold from Ironwood Village mentioned. I thought it best to bring them straight to you.”
The group exchanged hesitant looks. No one seemed eager to speak first, the silence stretching awkwardly between them. Jimmy shifted from foot to foot, Grian’s eyes flicked downward, and Tango cleared his throat quietly.
Finally, Scar took a step forward, straightening his bow across his back.
“Good day, Master Deckard,” he began confidently, flashing a polite smile. “The name’s Scar, an adventurer from Ironwood Village. And this here’s Tango, a swordsman who came with me.”
He hesitated then, glancing toward the twins beside him. Though he wanted to continue, he felt it would be disrespectful to introduce them himself.
Grian noticed the pause and took the cue. Stepping forward, he bowed his head slightly.
“I’m Grian, from Mana Ridge,” he said evenly. “A cleric under Father Leonard’s guidance. And this is my brother, Jimmy, a mage trained by Mistress Cynthia.”
Jimmy gave a small nod, his usual grin tempered by the seriousness of the meeting.
Master Deckard studied them all for a moment, his arms crossed thoughtfully. “So these are the ones Leonard and Harold spoke so highly of,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else.
Then he smiled, his mustache twitching slightly. “You’ve come a long way. Welcome to Cataract Gateway.”
Though his tone was friendly, there was something in his eyes, an assessing look, measuring how the group carried itself together. He already knew their names. What he wanted to see was how they acted, how they filled the silence, how they looked to one another.
Grian noticed the scrutiny but said nothing, only standing quietly beside Jimmy, whose curiosity was too strong to hide. Scar kept a hand on his bow, steady and polite, while Tango gave an easy smile.
“Let’s get you settled,” Deckard said finally, turning toward the back of the hall. “You’ve much to learn, and I suspect even more waiting for you beyond these walls.”
The group followed, their unease slowly melting into quiet anticipation as the sounds of the bustling guild surrounded them.
Master Deckard led the party through the bustling streets of Cataract Gateway until they reached one of the most well-known establishments in town, The Wise Helm Inn. The scent of roasted meat and ale drifted from within, and laughter echoed faintly through the wooden walls. The building stood proudly at the corner of a cobblestone road, its sign swaying lightly in the evening breeze. Warm light spilled from the windows, a welcome sight after a long day of travel.
“Yvo! We have the adventurers from Ironwood Village and Mana Ridge. Accompany them to their room,” Deckard called as he pushed open the door.
The interior was cozy and lively, filled with adventurers unwinding after their day. A tall elf stood behind the counter, his long ears twitching slightly as he looked up. “Of course, Master Deckard! I’ll just grab the key from the back,” Yvo said cheerfully, his tone bright and melodic. He disappeared through a door near the bar, his long hair swaying as he went.
Deckard nodded before turning back to the group. “Innkeeper Yvo will show you to your rooms. Take a rest for now; the sun’s already setting. We’ll discuss your mission first thing tomorrow morning.”
The group nodded in agreement. The exhaustion on their faces was clear, especially for Grian and Jimmy, who had been traveling for nearly seven hours straight. Grian could feel the ache in his shoulders and the stiffness in his legs, while Jimmy’s eyelids drooped slightly. The twins could only assume Scar and Tango were feeling the same, given that both Mana Ridge and Ironwood Village were about the same distance from Cataract Gateway.
Yvo returned, a ring of keys jingling in his hand. “Alright, follow me, everyone. I’ll show you your room,” he said, his tone light and friendly as he motioned for them to follow.
They moved through the quiet hallway lined with wooden doors, the sound of their boots echoing faintly on the floorboards. “It’s been quite a while since Mana Ridge sent any adventurers,” Yvo commented, glancing over his shoulder with a curious smile.
Jimmy perked up, his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone polite but genuinely interested. Grian walked beside him, his expression calm, though his eyes focused on Yvo with quiet attentiveness.
“Well,” Yvo began, his voice thoughtful, “Mana Ridge has always been peaceful, hasn’t it? Reserved, even. Most of its people rarely leave the village, and adventurers from there are few and far between. Ironwood’s the opposite, though, always producing fighters and scouts. But Mana Ridge? It’s rare to see anyone from there take up the adventurer’s path.”
Grian nodded slightly, understanding. “That’s true,” he said softly. “The village values peace above all. There isn’t much need for conflict there.”
Jimmy smiled faintly at the thought of home. “Yeah, it’s quiet. Sometimes too quiet,” he added, his tone lighthearted.
Yvo chuckled. “Quiet isn’t always a bad thing, young mage. Still, it’s good to see Mana Ridge sending out capable people again.”
The hallway came to an end, and Yvo stopped in front of a sturdy wooden door. He fished a key from his pocket and turned back to the group with an apologetic look. “This will be your room for the night. I hope you’ll forgive me, I could only manage one room. Last night was rather busy, and almost every room was taken. But Master Deckard made sure to tell me to keep at least one open for you.”
Scar waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine, Yvo. One room will do just fine,” he said reassuringly.
Yvo unlocked the door, and the hinges creaked slightly as it opened. Inside, the room was small but tidy. A faint scent of pine hung in the air from the wooden walls. However, there was an immediate issue; only two beds stood inside.
The party stood in silence for a moment, exchanging glances between the beds and Yvo.
Yvo chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Yes, well… that’s another problem. Each room only comes with two beds. I hope you don’t mind sharing.”
Tango leaned against the doorframe, a grin creeping across his face. “Oh, it’s perfect,” he said teasingly. “Gives us a chance to have some one-on-one moments, if you know what I mean.”
He looked directly at Jimmy, who immediately frowned in disgust. “That’s disgusting,” Jimmy muttered, taking a step back.
Grian shot Tango a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “Are you sure there isn’t another room?” he asked Yvo, his voice cool but firm.
Yvo sighed regretfully, shaking his head. “I’m afraid not. Every other room’s taken. I’d offer the storage room, but that wouldn’t be fair to any of you.”
Without another word, Grian took Jimmy by the wrist and guided him firmly into the room. “Then we’ll take this bed,” he said pointedly, indicating the one nearest the corner. His tone left no room for argument. “And I don’t want you”, he looked at Tango, “going anywhere near my brother.”
Jimmy sat down quietly beside Grian, his cheeks slightly pink from embarrassment at his brother’s protectiveness, but he didn’t protest. He was too tired to argue anyway.
Scar chuckled under his breath, shaking his head as he stepped inside. “You’ll have to forgive him,” he said to Yvo, half-amused. “It’s been a long trip.”
Yvo only smiled knowingly. “No offense taken. You’ll all feel better after a night’s rest,” he said, stepping back toward the hall. “Goodnight, adventurers. May your dreams be calm.”
Once Yvo left, closing the door behind him, the room fell into a tired silence.
Grian sat at the edge of his bed, removing his bag and boots with deliberate movements. Jimmy followed his brother’s example, stretching his sore arms. Across from them, Scar and Tango settled on the other bed.
Tango let out a low laugh to himself, shaking his head as he leaned back against the wall. “You know,” he said lightly, “I was only joking.”
Grian didn’t respond, merely turning away as he adjusted the pillow. Jimmy stifled a yawn, glancing briefly at Tango before lying down beside his brother.
Scar chuckled again, blowing out the lantern near the wall. “Get some rest, everyone,” he said. “Tomorrow’s going to be busy.”
The room dimmed, and the soft sound of steady breathing soon filled the space. For the first time in days, they could finally rest, even if some of them still had lingering thoughts about the journey ahead.
The trail was narrow and uneven, with jagged stones jutting from the ground and loose soil slipping beneath their boots. A single misstep could send them tumbling down the steep drop beside them. Jimmy and Grian followed closely behind Tango and Scout Fergus, their breaths steady but cautious. Scar walked behind them all, silent yet alert, his bow slung across his shoulder in case anything unexpected appeared from the shadows.
The forest around them was quiet, unnervingly so, the only sound being the crunch of their footsteps against the dirt and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees.
“Say,” Jimmy started, breaking the silence, his eyes fixed on the uneven dirt path ahead. “What are we doing out here again?” He adjusted his grip on his staff, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity and a bit of fatigue. The path looked like it hadn’t been used in years, and one wrong step might send him rolling down the cliffside.
Scout Fergus, who was leading them, chuckled softly without turning around. “Adventurer’s Guild Master Deckard said they’ve spotted red harpies carrying something strange. Said it looked like they were holding a woman.” He glanced over his shoulder briefly, his expression serious beneath the brim of his hat. “They think that woman might be Rose.”
At the mention of Rose’s name, Tango’s brows furrowed. He kept his pace steady, but his mind raced. Rose had been missing for weeks now, and every lead they’d found had led them to another dead end. Could this finally be the one?
“I’m guessing that’s where we’re supposed to go then,” Tango said casually from the front, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t entirely paying attention when Deckard gave the briefing earlier. He stepped over a fallen branch with ease, glancing briefly over his shoulder. “We find the harpies, get the girl, and head back, right?”
“Not exactly,” Fergus replied with a shake of his head. “We’re not heading straight to the harpies yet. We’re going to the Raider’s Den first. There’s something there we need to find before we face them.”
Jimmy frowned slightly, careful to keep his footing. “The Raider’s Den? That sounds… pleasant,” he said sarcastically, though his curiosity grew. “What are we supposed to find there?”
Fergus adjusted the strap of his pack and replied, “A sacred harp. It was crafted long ago by an ancient elf. Master Deckard believes it’s the key to summoning the harpies safely, or at least drawing them close enough without getting torn apart.”
At the mention of the harp, Scar’s ears perked up from behind them. The familiar word tugged at something in his memory, like an old song he couldn’t quite recall. He slowed his pace slightly, his brows furrowing in thought. “A harp, you say?” he muttered under his breath. “Why does that sound so familiar…”
Grian turned his head slightly, catching Scar’s words. “You’ve heard of it before?” he asked quietly, genuinely curious.
Scar hesitated for a moment, his hand brushing over the wooden body of his bow. “Maybe,” he said finally. “I’m not sure. I heard stories once, a long time ago, about an elven harp that could call forth not just beasts, but spirits. Dark ones.”
Scout Fergus nodded at that, confirming the ranger’s words. “That’s the one,” he said grimly. “The sacred harp was made by an unknown elf centuries ago. It’s said to be able to lure both creatures of light and darkness. Because of that, the elves wanted nothing to do with it. They considered it cursed.”
Jimmy blinked, tightening his grip on his staff. “Cursed? And we’re going to find it?” He tried to sound lighthearted, but the unease in his tone was clear.
Fergus laughed softly, though it didn’t carry much humor. “Don’t worry. We’re not using it for long. Just enough to catch the harpies’ attention and see if Rose is really with them.”
Tango smirked slightly, adjusting his sword at his hip. “So, we’re going treasure hunting for a haunted harp to talk to bird monsters. Sounds like a normal day to me.”
Grian sighed, shaking his head at Tango’s flippant tone. “I’d hardly call that normal,” he said quietly. “If that harp truly has the power to summon dark forces, we’ll need to be careful.”
Scar nodded in agreement, his tone more serious now. “A harp that calls the darkness… Let’s just hope Deckard knows what he’s doing sending us after it.”
The group continued walking in silence after that, the sound of their boots scraping the dirt filling the air again. The wind howled softly through the cliffs, and the faint call of distant birds echoed far below. Each step brought them closer to the Raider’s Den and whatever secrets the sacred harp still held.
After what felt like hours of careful climbing, balancing, and weaving through uneven paths, the group finally reached the entrance to the Raider’s Den. The jagged rocks surrounding the cavern’s mouth glistened faintly with moisture, and a heavy mist curled out from within, carrying with it the faint scent of metal and decay. The deeper they went, the darker it became, until even the sound of their footsteps seemed to be swallowed by the stillness.
When they reached the den’s core, everyone slowed to a halt. The silence was suffocating. There was no sound of dripping water, no echo of distant movement, only the hollow weight of air that seemed too heavy to breathe.
Jimmy frowned, tightening his grip on his staff as his eyes darted across the cavern walls. “It’s way too quiet,” he muttered under his breath. “A place that’s supposed to guard something ancient shouldn’t feel this empty.”
Even Grian, who preferred silence to conversation, couldn’t shake off the discomfort creeping into his chest. His gaze swept over the darkness that swallowed the tunnel ahead, unease growing stronger with every step. “It doesn’t make sense,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “If this place really holds a sacred artifact, there should be something: guards, traps, anything.”
Fergus, leading the group, looked equally unsettled. His eyes scanned the shadows, hand resting near his blade. “Stay close,” he warned in a low tone. “Something’s not right here. Keep your eyes open.”
The twins exchanged a glance. Even though they had seen danger before, there was something about this stillness that reminded them of the Vision Orb incident and the horrors they had witnessed in Parelina’s Resting Place. The memory sent a cold chill down their spines. Grian subconsciously rubbed his arm, feeling the faint echo of that same dreadful energy.
Jimmy whispered, “It’s like back then… in Parelina’s Resting Place.”
“I know,” Grian replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s hope it doesn’t end the same way.”
They pressed onward through the dim corridor, the faint flicker of torchlight from Fergus’s lantern casting long, shifting shadows on the walls. Then, without warning, Fergus stopped abruptly.
“Wait,” he said sharply.
The others froze in their tracks and followed his gaze, and what they saw made their blood run cold.
Scattered across the ground ahead were several bodies. Elves. Their pale forms lay motionless, blood seeping into the cracked stone beneath them. But unlike Scar, their features were twisted: their skin darker, as though shadow had seeped into their very veins. Their fingers were long and clawed, and faint black mist seemed to rise from their wounds, like traces of corruption that refused to die.
Jimmy took an instinctive step back, his breath hitching. “What… what happened here?” he asked, his voice breaking the oppressive silence. His eyes darted across the bodies, trying to make sense of the scene before him.
Scout Fergus crouched near one of the fallen elves, carefully inspecting the ground for signs of struggle. “I don’t know,” he said finally, shaking his head. “There are no footprints, no sign of another creature passing through. But the wounds…” His brows furrowed. “They look like they came from blades, clean strikes. Someone fought them, and recently too.”
Scar, who had been standing at the back of the group, moved forward without a word. His normally calm expression had hardened into something unreadable. The sight of the fallen elves stirred something deep within him: sorrow, recognition, maybe even guilt.
He knelt beside one of the bodies, brushing the dirt from its face. The elf’s skin was unnaturally cold, and its once-vibrant silver eyes had dulled to a lifeless gray. These weren’t ordinary elves; they were Dark Elves, their bodies marked by the corruption of Vestinel.
“These are my kin,” Scar murmured, his voice thick with disbelief. “But they… they look different.”
Grian stepped closer, observing the scene with a mix of curiosity and unease. “Different how?”
Scar’s fingers traced the markings on the elf’s skin. “The Dark Elves I’ve met before still had life in their eyes. These…” He paused, lowering his voice. “It’s like their energy has been drained. Every bit of mana, every spark of life… gone.”
Jimmy’s grip on his staff tightened as he looked around nervously. “Drained? By what?”
Before anyone could respond, a faint, rattling breath caught Scar’s attention. He turned sharply toward one of the bodies, an elf that wasn’t quite dead yet. Its chest rose shallowly, and its cracked lips moved as though struggling to speak.
Scar immediately leaned in, gently supporting the elf’s head. “Hey, easy now,” he said quietly. “Save your strength.”
The elf’s eyes fluttered open, barely focusing on Scar. For a moment, it seemed like he was trying to recognize him. His trembling hand lifted weakly, fingers brushing Scar’s arm. “The… harp…” the elf rasped, blood spilling from his lips. “Taken… gone…”
Scar’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything more, the elf coughed violently, a final burst of blood staining his chin before his hand fell limp. The faint light in his eyes vanished completely.
For a long moment, no one said a word. The den was silent once again, the air heavy with the weight of death.
Fergus slowly rose to his feet, his expression grim. “Whatever did this,” he said quietly, “it’s still out there. And it already has the harp.”
Jimmy swallowed hard, his chest tightening as the realization sank in. Grian closed his eyes briefly, saying a silent prayer for the fallen elves. Scar remained kneeling beside the body, his jaw clenched, anger and grief warring behind his eyes.
They had come too late. And somewhere deeper within the den, the stolen harp and the one who took it awaited them.
Scout Fergus furrowed his brows at Scar’s words, the weight of the situation sinking in. “Someone took the Harp?” he said, his tone sharp and uneasy. “Then we have to get to the Sigh Canyon immediately. If they have the Harp, that’s where they’ll go next.”
Jimmy glanced up from where he stood, confusion flickering across his face. “Why Sigh Canyon of all places? Isn’t that where the harpies gather?”
Fergus nodded, already checking his gear and tightening the strap of his bow. “Exactly. We were planning to head there anyway to draw the harpies out, but if those thieves reach it first with the Harp, they might summon something worse.”
Scar frowned, gripping the handle of his bow. “Then we can’t let them get too far ahead. That artifact’s power isn’t meant for just anyone.”
Tango smirked faintly, though his voice carried a hint of seriousness. “Sounds like we’re in for quite the chase. Let’s hope they haven’t figured out how to play that Harp yet.”
Grian glanced at his brother before looking at the rest of the group. “Then we shouldn’t waste time talking. If they really have it, every second counts.”
Fergus gave a firm nod. “Right. Everyone, move out. Keep your guard up and your eyes sharp. The path to Sigh Canyon isn’t forgiving.”
The party quickly gathered their things, their movements hurried but precise. The quiet tension between them was broken only by the sound of boots crunching against dirt as they began their run toward the canyon, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily on their shoulders.