Eldrin leaned heavily on Ana as they navigated the dark alleys of Eastmere. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, each inhale sending sharp pain through the wound in his side. Blood seeped through the bandage Ana had wrapped hastily back in the stable, and his legs felt like they could give out at any moment. Still, Eldrin pushed forward, even though he knew the shadows were closing in.
"We need to leave the city," Eldrin muttered, his voice strained and weak. "We can’t stay. The shadows—they’re hunting us."
Ana's grip on his arm tightened. “No,” she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. “You’re too weak to make it far. If we try to run now, you’ll bleed out before we even reach the edge of Eastmere.”
Eldrin tried to protest, but the intensity in Ana’s eyes silenced him. “I know someone who can help,” she continued. “There’s a church nearby. The priest there is an old friend of mine. He’ll heal you, and we’ll figure out our next move after that.”
Ruk, darting ahead of them like a nervous shadow, skittered back. His goblin eyes were wide with alarm. “Bad people moving,” he whispered. “Ruk doesn’t like it. They’re looking for us.”
Eldrin clenched his jaw, his mind racing despite his body’s weakening state. He wanted to argue, to tell Ana they needed to leave the town and get far away, but the stabbing pain in his side was relentless. He knew Ana was right. He wasn’t strong enough to make it out of Eastmere like this.
“Fine,” Eldrin muttered through gritted teeth, though the frustration was clear in his voice. “But we can’t stay long.”
Ana nodded, but her expression softened. “We won’t. Just trust me. Stay close.”
With that, Ana led them deeper into the twisting alleyways, the cold night air biting at their skin. They moved quietly through the deserted streets, keeping to the shadows, their ears pricked for any sign of movement. Eastmere felt oppressive, as if the city itself was aware of the danger lurking in its streets. Every creak, every distant footstep seemed amplified in the tense silence.
Ruk darted ahead, his small frame almost invisible in the darkness. Every so often, he would wave them forward, his eyes scanning for threats as he scurried between the dark corners and narrow alleyways. Eldrin tried to stay focused, but with each passing minute, his vision blurred, and the pain in his side worsened. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his steps faltered.
Ana stayed close, her arm steadying him when his legs threatened to buckle beneath him. “We’re almost there,” she whispered, her eyes scanning the rooftops and streets. “Just hold on a little longer.”
Eldrin grunted in response, his mind more focused on keeping his legs moving than on anything else. His thoughts were muddled with pain, but he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling of dread. The book was gone, and whoever had taken it would be after him next. They were already too late.
Suddenly, Ruk came skidding to a halt, his hand raised in warning. He pressed himself flat against the wall of a nearby building, his eyes wide with alarm. “Shadows,” he hissed. “Bad people coming.”
Ana’s hand immediately went to her sword, and she pulled Eldrin into the shadows of a nearby alcove, pressing him against the cold stone wall. Her grip on his arm was firm, steadying him as they crouched low.
Eldrin’s breathing was shallow, and he fought to keep quiet, every movement sending fresh pain through his body. His heart raced, not just from the wound, but from the growing realization that they were being hunted. Whoever was after them wouldn’t stop until they found him. Whatever he read in that book, these shadowsdidnt want getting out.
Footsteps echoed down the street, and from the corner of his eye, Eldrin saw shadowy figures moving between the buildings. Their movements were slow, deliberate. They were searching.
Ana tensed beside him, her eyes following the figures as they crept closer. Ruk crouched nearby, his small form barely visible in the darkness, his goblin ears twitching with every sound. The silence was suffocating, and Eldrin’s heart pounded in his chest.
For a moment, he feared they would be discovered. His hand instinctively went to his staff, but the pain in his side made him falter. His vision swam, and he nearly let out a gasp of pain, but Ana’s hand covered his mouth before any sound could escape. She shot him a warning look, her eyes hard with intensity.
The shadowy figures paused, their heads turning as if listening for something. Eldrin’s breath caught in his throat, and the seconds seemed to stretch on endlessly. Then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the figures moved on, disappearing into the night.
Ana exhaled softly, her hand slipping from Eldrin’s mouth. “They’re gone,” she whispered. “But they’ll be back. We need to keep moving.”
Ruk, still crouched low, looked up at them. “Ruk saw more shadows down the big road. We need to hurry.”
Ana nodded and helped Eldrin to his feet, though his legs felt like lead. He leaned heavily on her, his breath shallow and labored. They continued through the alleys, moving as quickly as Eldrin’s condition would allow. Each step sent another wave of pain through his body, but the flickering light of the church in the distance gave him a small spark of hope.
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The church loomed ahead of them, its simple stone structure bathed in the faint glow of candlelight. The wooden door was slightly ajar, and Eldrin could hear the faint sound of soft chanting from inside.
Ana helped Eldrin up the stone steps, her grip firm as she guided him toward the door. She pushed it open, and they slipped inside the small sanctuary, the warmth of the church washing over them as they stepped into the candle-lit room. The scent of burning incense and old wood filled the air.
Inside, rows of wooden pews lined the room, leading to a small altar at the far end. Kneeling near the altar was an elderly cleric, his weathered face illuminated by the soft glow of the candles. His hands moved slowly as he adjusted the candles for the evening prayers, but he turned at the sound of the door creaking open.
The priest’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw Ana. “Ana?” he asked, his voice filled with both disbelief and familiarity.
Ana gently lowered Eldrin onto one of the pews before turning to the priest. “Father Brannon,” she said, her voice soft but urgent. “We need your help. My friend here… he’s been wounded. Badly.”
Father Brannon hurried over, his expression darkening as he saw Eldrin’s pale face and blood-soaked bandage. “By the gods,” he muttered, kneeling beside Eldrin to examine the wound. “What happened?”
“An assassin,” Ana said, her voice tight with frustration. “There are more people looking for us. We can’t stay long, but Eldrin won’t make it much further unless you help him.”
The old cleric frowned deeply but nodded. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, his hands already glowing with the soft light of healing magic. “But this wound is deep. He’ll need time to recover.”
Ana glanced toward the door, her hand resting on her sword. “We don’t have time, Father. We just need the healing. Then we’ll figure out the rest.”
Father Brannon’s expression grew even more serious as he placed his glowing hands over Eldrin’s wound. “This isn’t the first time I’ve patched you up, Ana,” he said, his voice kind but firm. “But you always seem to find trouble wherever you go.”
Ana managed a small smile, though her eyes remained fixed on Eldrin’s wound. “Seems that way, doesn’t it?”
Father Brannon focused on his work, his hands moving gently over the wound as he chanted softly under his breath. The warmth of the healing magic spread through Eldrin’s body, dulling the pain and easing the tension in his muscles. For the first time in what felt like hours, he could breathe without sharp agony cutting through his chest.
“You’ve been through worse, Ana,” Father Brannon said quietly as he worked. “I remember that time on the western roads, when your whole party was brought to me after that ambush.”
Ana chuckled softly, though there was little humor in her voice. “I owe you for that.”
Father Brannon shook his head. “You owe me nothing. I’m just glad I’m here to help.”
After several long moments, the glow from Father Brannon’s hands faded, and he sat back, wiping the sweat from his brow. “That should stop the bleeding,” he said, though his tone was somber. “But you’ll need to rest, Eldrin. You’ll also be hungry.”
Eldrin exhaled slowly, his body sagging with relief as the pain dulled to a manageable throb. “Thank you,” he muttered, though his thoughts were still tangled with worry. The missing book, the shadowy pursuers—it all weighed heavily on his mind.
“You’re safe here,” Father Brannon said gently. “At least for tonight. I’ll keep watch while you rest.”
Ana nodded, though her expression remained tense. “Thank you Brannon,” she said, “but once Eldrin’s strong enough, we need to leave Eastmere. This isn’t just about his life. There’s more at stake than you know.”
Father Brannon’s gaze shifted between them, his brow furrowed with concern. “What are you mixed up in this time, Ana?”
Ana hesitated for a moment, glancing at Eldrin before replying. “It’s bigger than anything we’ve dealt with before, Brannon. There are people who want to erase everything we know—dangerous people.”
Father Brannon’s expression darkened, but he didn’t press for details. “Rest, then,” he said softly. “Looking at your friend, we’ll speak more in the morning.”
As Eldrin’s exhaustion finally caught up with him, he felt his body relax against the pew. His mind, though still racing, began to quiet as the warmth of the church and the dull hum of Father Brannon’s magic eased him into a restless sleep. But even in the sanctuary of the church, he knew that this respite was temporary. The danger was far from over.
Ana sighed, glancing at Eldrin’s pale face as his breathing steadied. “Look at him; he was in such a rush, and he just falls asleep,” she grumbled softly, though her voice carried an edge of concern.
Ruk, always alert, peered up from the shadows near the door, his goblin eyes gleaming with worry. “Bad people outside still,” he whispered, shifting uncomfortably. “Ruk doesn’t like it. They’ll come back.”
Ana nodded grimly, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “I’ll take the first watch. We’re not out of this yet.”
Father Brannon, wiping his brow, gave her a knowing look. “The walls of this church have seen many troubled souls seek refuge, Ana. I’ll keep an eye on the door. You both get some rest.”
Ana started to relax, but then, from the far end of the church, the soft creak of a door opening echoed through the sanctuary.
Ruk froze, his ears twitching. Ana’s hand went instinctively to her sword as the dim light flickered across the walls. A cold wind swept through the sanctuary, making the candles flicker ominously.
From the shadows, a figure emerged—cloaked, tall, and silent. The air around them seemed to grow colder, and the figure’s presence filled the space with a suffocating menace.
“Who are you?” Ana demanded, stepping protectively in front of Eldrin, her voice a low growl.
The figure paused in the shadows, their face obscured by the hood. The voice that followed was a low, chilling whisper, more like a breath of wind than human speech.
“I’ve come for him.”
Ana’s pulse quickened. She tightened her grip on her sword, her eyes darting toward the sleeping Eldrin, then back to the intruder.