The days following Jin's departure were quiet but heavy with meaning. The void he left behind wasn't felt in grand tragedies but in the small details of daily life: the empty seat at the breakfast table, the silence in tactical discussions, and the echo of footsteps no longer joining the group. Kaellia, Saphira, Allan, and Lyn felt their companion's absence like an ever-present shadow—not just a physical void, but an emotional one.
Kaellia tried to stay strong. Since Jin's departure, the weight of responsibility pressed even harder on her shoulders. She began training alone at dawn, reviewing combat plans and studying accounts of ancient battles. Her impulsiveness gave way to a more measured demeanor. She didn't say it aloud, but she was determined to keep the group from fracturing.
Lyn, always peaceful, grew more resolute. She dedicated herself to refining her healing and protective abilities, studying complex formulas and mastering techniques she had previously only used in basic ways. She became a true emotional pillar for the others, listening when needed and intervening when necessary.
Saphira, meanwhile, immersed herself in a world of books and strategies. The pain of separation had shaken her pride but also sparked a desire for growth. She no longer wanted to be just the group's swordswoman. She began studying politics, ancient history, and tactical magic—all to become a worthy advisor, someone who could guide and protect.
Allan, ever energetic, channeled his feelings into relentless training. He carried the guilt of not stopping Jin's departure and used that pain as fuel. His already strong body grew even more resilient. In battles, he took on the role of the group's shield, protecting his friends from any threat.
By the end of the first month, though unspoken, they knew something within them had changed. The group, now more mature, faced increasingly complex missions.
In the second month, the Capital began to take notice. A turning point came when they were sent to deal with a group of smugglers trafficking magical artifacts, who had seized an ancient temple north of Riventhal. The mission was delicate—the site was sacred to some communities, and the use of profane magic could cause irreversible damage.
For three days, the group devised a precise plan. Allan kept watch over the entrances with patience, Kaellia coordinated infiltration routes, and Saphira, alongside Lyn, used disguise and magical analysis enchantments. During the confrontation, Allan held off three dark conjurers, stalling them until Kaellia delivered the final blow. Saphira led a flanking attack that caught the smugglers off guard, and Lyn, though exhausted, kept everyone standing with her support magic.
The mission's success echoed through the Capital.
In the third month, they were invited to join a mission with two renowned groups: the Golden Wolves and the Crimson Winds. The objective was clear: investigate the Caverns of Trivaron, where magical distortions linked to corrupted shadows had been detected.
During the journey, Kaellia displayed a new kind of leadership—firm yet diplomatic. She aligned strategies with Mera, the Wolves' leader, who initially distrusted the group. In a cavern skirmish, Allan shielded a group of novices with his enchanted shield, while Saphira maintained communication between the teams. Lyn tirelessly tended to the wounded, and Kaellia guided everyone out of the cavern with precision at the mission's end.
Their success solidified their reputation. They received formal praise from prominent guild leaders and were recognized as a rising force.
In the fourth month, a bold proposal arrived: a test mission for official evaluation by the Royal Guild. The task: eliminate an ancient war spirit awakened in the cursed battlefield of Valmar.
The journey to Valmar took days. The place was shrouded in thick mist that seemed to whisper ancient names. Kaellia kept the group cohesive despite growing unease. When they faced the entity, they discovered it wasn't just a spirit—it was an amalgamation of fallen soldiers, fused by pain and rage.
The battle was brutal. Allan faced the creature head-on, sustaining severe wounds. Lyn struggled to keep her magic active from sheer exhaustion. Saphira used ancient enchantments she had memorized just before the mission. In the moment the creature weakened, Kaellia charged forward with a clean, precise strike, sealing the spirit.
Two weeks later, an official ceremony recognized them as a registered group of the Kingdom of Riventhal. It was then they were named "Rift's Light," a tribute to their ability to bring clarity and strength in dark times. The name was also symbolic—a rift separated them from Jin, yet they had found light.
With their new title, the group was sought after by nobles and neighboring cities. In the fifth and sixth months, they rebuilt villages destroyed by magic, rescued children kidnapped by a necromancer cult, and protected emissaries on diplomatic missions. Each mission strengthened their bond.
Kaellia, now a respected leader, began participating in tactical councils at the royal guild. Lyn, admired by veteran healers, started teaching introductory classes to apprentices. Saphira gained access to Riventhal's inner library. Allan was called "The Wall of the Light" among soldiers.
It was after one of these missions that they heard the first rumors.
On the ninth night of the eighth month, after returning from a mission in the south, the four stopped at a modest tavern on the road between Riventhal and Glenstad. The food was simple but warm. The benches creaked under the weight of travelers, and the fireplace crackled in a corner. Most patrons were weary merchants and adventurers, but three figures stood out: three scarred war veterans playing dice in a corner.
"Have you heard about that new group from the north?" asked one, a grizzled man with a scar across his forehead.
"The one no one knows the name of?" the second replied with a hoarse laugh. "Heard they're just called 'them.' Like some kind of entity."
"Hmph," the third, quieter, took a swig of ale. "They say their leader goes by 'Ashen Wolf.' Been a while since I heard that name…"
Kaellia glanced up subtly.
"Ashen Wolf?" the first scoffed. "That's impossible. Marcus used that name, remember? That stubborn bastard would never lead anything again. Especially not something like the Eastern Ashes."
"Right. He used to say leaders become walking coffins. Never wanted that responsibility. Always dodged it," the second mused.
"So how do you explain this?" the first shot back. "The rumors don't stop. This group… whoever they are… they're collecting the Herald's fragments. Mission after mission. Each one more impossible than the last."
"Just another group of cursed hunters. They'll vanish when they crash and burn. They always do," the third said, draining his mug. "But… if it's really Marcus… maybe it's different."
Silence fell over their table for a moment.
At the nearby table, Kaellia and Lyn's eyes met. Allan, hand on his tankard, froze. Saphira pretended to read a note, but her attention was entirely on the conversation. None of them spoke. But they all thought the same thing.
A name they hadn't heard in years. A pattern of actions. The Herald's fragments. Silence and efficiency. Everything pointed to something… or someone.
But in the end, it was just a rumor. And rumors aren't proof. Not until you look into the eyes of the one who left.