After settling into their roles as protectors of the town, Lorian and his companions had the opportunity to meet the architect's family. One sunny afternoon, as they patrolled the village, they noticed Eldric's wife, Elara, and his two daughters, Elysia and Elowen, sitting on the porch of their cozy cottage. The smell of freshly baked pastries and the laughter of the children filled the air.Lorian, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the architect's family, approached them with a warm smile. "Greetings, Elara, Elysia, and Elowen. I'm Lorian, and these are my companions. We've had the pleasure of working alongside your husband and father, Eldric."Elara welcomed them graciously, offering snacks and refreshments. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lorian, and your companions. Thank you for coming to our aid when the undead threatened our town. You're like heroes to us."As they enjoyed the treats, conversation flowed easily. Elara shared stories of the town's history and its close-knit comm

The villagers' fear and anxiety continued to mount as the eerie incidents escalated. Reports of possession-like behavior among some villagers spread, and whispers of Elandrin's involvement began to circulate.That was the name of their assassins, a famous powerful warrior that never fail to kill his target. It was the reputation that Elandrin had built while Malachi was meditating.Lorian knew they needed to confront this threat head-on. He gathered a council of trusted villagers, including Galen the hunter and Eliza, to formulate a plan. They decided to organize patrols to keep a watchful eye on the forest's edge and the village itself, hoping to catch any intruders.As they prepared for their first night of vigilance, a sudden, bone-chilling scream pierced the air. The villagers rushed to the source, finding a group of people huddled around a young girl named Aria, who had been discovered in a state of trance-like possession. Her eyes were vacant, and her voice was not her own as s

“Now, allow me to demonstrate.”As Malachi’s dark power manifested, the entire village fell into a state of shock and horror. With a simple flick of his wrist, shadowy hands emerged from the chests of every villager, each clutching a still-beating heart. The sight was ghastly and surreal, like something out of a nightmare.Panic and confusion ensued as the villagers stared in disbelief at their own hearts, held by the spectral hands. Moments later, they began to cough up blood, collapsing to the ground one by one. The air was filled with the sounds of despair and the sight of a community on the brink of death.Among them, Lorian stood, the only one seemingly unaffected by Malachi’s spell. He watched in horror as his companions and friends, with whom he had shared countless adventures and battles, fell victim to the necromancer’s cruel demonstration. His heart filled with rage and grief at the sight of his closest allies, who had been like family to him, now lying lifeless at his feet.

Malachi listened intently as the young recruits, their faces alight with determination and excitement, pleaded with him to allow them to participate in the neighboring town’s sword competition. Their eagerness was palpable, a testament to the spirit he had instilled in them over the past three months of intensive training.He regarded them with a thoughtful expression, feigning a moment of consideration. Yet, inwardly, Malachi smiled. This competition was precisely the opportunity he had been waiting for, a chance to showcase the prowess of his trainees and further cement his reputation as an unparalleled teacher and strategist.“Very well,” Malachi announced, his voice measured but carrying an undercurrent of approval. “You have trained hard and deserve to test your skills. We will participate in this competition. But remember, this is not just about individual prowess. It’s about demonstrating the unity and strength that we have fostered here.”The recruits erupted in cheers, their m

As the evening sky darkened over the city, a group of six shadowy figures moved stealthily across the rooftops. Cloaked in tight black garments that blended seamlessly with the night, they were like specters, silent and almost invisible. Their focus was singular – the mysterious Malachi, who was now pacing thoughtfully in the courtyard below before returning to his chamber.Inside his room, Malachi lit a lantern, casting a soft, flickering glow that pushed back the encroaching shadows. He sat down at a desk, picking up a quill and beginning to write. The figures on the rooftop watched intently, curiosity burning within them. One of them, a slender figure with keen eyes, produced a small, intricate device. With a whispered incantation, the device came alive, its lens focusing on the paper in Malachi’s hand, magnifying the words written there.On the parchment were the words: “I know you’re there.”The figures exchanged startled glances. How could he have known? They had been cautious,