Matrim’s footsteps echoed through the narrow stone corridors, each step dragging him further from the hidden chamber and closer to a future he hadn’t bargained for. His wrists were bound by the cold iron of the manacles, the weight of them a constant reminder of the price he was now paying for seeking answers. The woman—her name still unknown—walked just ahead, her stride purposeful, unyielding. Her grip on him never faltered, and despite his every attempt to pull free, he was powerless against her.

  She led him through the winding passages of Silvermoon, deeper into the heart of the city. The air felt different now, charged with the scent of damp stone and the faintest trace of magic—an energy that buzzed beneath his skin. Every turn they took seemed to lead him deeper into unfamiliar territory, as though the city itself was swallowing him whole, pulling him into its labyrinthine depths.

  He didn’t speak. What could he say? The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a blade, and each time he tried to open his mouth, the words seemed to die before they could form. Instead, he focused on his surroundings, trying to find any clue that might tell him where she was taking him or what her intentions were.

  As they walked, Matrim’s thoughts turned inward, as they often did when he was alone with his doubts. Why is this so important to me?

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that his entire life had been a series of unanswered questions—questions that led him down the path of a mercenary, searching for purpose in a world that seemed to have none to offer him. And now, this city, this ancient power, had given him a glimpse of something he could barely comprehend. Something that felt… connected to him. He had come here, despite everything, to uncover that connection. To understand it.

  He thought back to the last time he had fought for something—truly fought, with everything he had.

  The Desert of Varenhold. The place where everything he had known had been shattered.

  Matrim’s stomach twisted as the memory resurfaced. His mercenary company had been hired to guard a caravan crossing through the harsh, unforgiving desert. What was supposed to be a simple contract had turned into a massacre. They had been ambushed, slaughtered by raiders, and despite their best efforts, the company had been torn apart in a matter of hours.

  Matrim had fought his way through the chaos, but by the time he reached his commander, the man was already dying. In his final moments, the commander had grabbed Matrim’s arm, his bloodied fingers clutching him with a final, desperate strength.

  “I failed...” the commander had whispered, his voice ragged, barely audible. “I couldn’t... protect them.”

  And then, with his last breath, the man had told Matrim what had haunted him ever since. “Find your purpose, soldier. Don’t end up like me—alone, lost... searching for something that can never be found.”

  Matrim had left the desert with no more answers than he had when he entered it. His company was gone, scattered, destroyed—and the weight of that failure had never left him. The need for redemption, for purpose, had driven him from one mercenary job to the next. Always searching, always fighting, always wondering what he was truly meant to do.

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  Maybe that’s why this city feels so familiar. His mind returned to the present as he was pulled deeper into Silvermoon. Maybe it’s why I can’t let go of this—of whatever this is that’s been calling to me.

  He had always thought that finding answers would be enough to fill the void left by the loss of his comrades. That knowing why he had survived when they hadn’t would give him the purpose his commander had urged him to find. But now, with Silvermoon’s mysteries unraveling before him, he wasn’t sure anymore. Was this what he had been searching for? Or was it another fool’s errand, a way to mask the emptiness that had followed him all these years?

  The woman in front of him—this Guardian—pulled him from his thoughts as they reached a heavy door. She opened it without a word, and the familiar cold grip of reality settled back over him.

  The room she led him into was small and bare, its stone walls unadorned, the flickering light from a single lantern casting long shadows across the floor. There was a cot pushed against one wall, a simple wooden chair beside it, and nothing more.

  “This is where you’ll stay,” she said, her voice hard, as though each word was meant to reinforce her authority.

  Matrim stepped inside, his gaze scanning the room for any hint of escape or opportunity. But there was nothing—only the barren silence of a room designed to isolate him completely. His pulse quickened as his eyes darted to the door, the heavy weight of being locked away beginning to settle in.

  “You can’t do this,” Matrim said, his voice sharp. “You have no right to imprison me.”

  The Guardian’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and then she stepped closer, her hand never leaving the manacles that bound him. “I have every right,” she said, her voice colder than ice. “You’re a threat to Silvermoon, whether you realize it or not.”

  He took a step back, but the invisible force of her presence seemed to fill the room. “I’m not here to destroy anything,” Matrim pressed, frustration seeping into his voice. “I’m here because I was led here. Something pulled me toward this place. I’m trying to understand why.”

  Her gaze didn’t waver. “You think you can just wander in and ask for answers?” she asked, her voice full of disdain. “The city’s secrets aren’t for you, outsider. You don’t belong here. This power... it’s not yours to claim.”

  Matrim’s heart beat faster as she moved closer, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “Then why don’t you just tell me what it is?” he demanded. “What’s so dangerous about the truth? Why can’t I know?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her gaze hardened. “Because you don’t understand the cost of the knowledge you seek.”

  Before he could respond, she moved quickly, pulling out a set of iron manacles and locking them around his wrists. The cold metal clamped down tightly, and with a final, unyielding motion, she dragged him toward the cot.

  “You’ll be tried for your actions,” she said, her voice devoid of sympathy. “Whatever you’ve uncovered here, it ends now.”

  Matrim struggled, but the weight of the manacles kept him from fighting back effectively. He tried to turn his head, to see if there was any chance of escaping, but the room was too small, the air too thick with the Guardian’s presence.

  “You’ll regret this,” he muttered, his voice low but fierce.

  But the door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the small chamber. The weight of his situation pressed down on him, the silence of the room louder than any words. As the reality of his imprisonment set in, he realized the journey ahead would be harder than he ever expected—and he had no choice but to face whatever came next.