Progenitor's Burden

From the villagers' perspective, the strange woman who had saved them—running desperately with the last two children in her arms—had been swallowed by a thick cloud of dust and stone. The sight was so grim that few dared to hope she'd made it out alive.

But then, as the dust began to settle, Rose emerged, coughing and stumbling, still clutching the two children. Shock rippled through the crowd, mirrored in Rose's own dazed expression. She barely made it a few steps before someone rushed forward, gently lifting the children from her arms. Another villager slipped an arm under her shoulder, helping her toward the shelter of the treeline, where she could finally sit and catch her breath.

As she settled, someone handed her a flask of water and a bit of food while the villagers tended to each other. She focused on steadying her breath, feeling herself gradually returning to feeling normal. When her head finally cleared, she opened her quest log and saw the message she'd hoped for.

Quest Completed: Echoes of the Forsaken

Goal: Rescue as many trapped as possible.

Rewards:

You have achieved a 95% success rate

Gold x18

Experience x14,300

Ready to advance to the next stage? Accept: Y/N

She sighed, feeling a pang of defeat settle deep within her. She hadn't been able to save everyone; five percent of the people were lost. Whether she'd been too slow or too weak, she wasn't sure, but the guilt weighed on her, as heavy as a stone yoke.

When she finally looked up, she noticed a group of villagers gathered nearby, all staring at her with grateful smiles. They had seen her effort, her struggle. She'd done everything she could. It had to be enough, she reminded herself, letting the warmth of their appreciation ease the burden, if only slightly.

Getting to her feet, she said her farewells and walked back down the road a short distance. With a deep breath, she selected Accept at the bottom of the message, and immediately felt herself yanked into another portal. I really need a nap, she thought, bracing herself for whatever came next.

*****

Rose was thrown into the chaos of a village under attack. It was exactly how one might imagine—a scene of huts ablaze, people running and screaming, the air thick with smoke and panic. Shadows moved erratically in the firelight, casting twisted reflections on the ground, while the acrid scent of burning wood and straw filled her lungs, making her cough. Children clung to their parents, eyes wide with terror, as villagers frantically tried to extinguish the flames with buckets of water from the nearby well.

Before she could even climb to her feet, her quest screen appeared before her.

New Quest: The Forest of Veiled Spirits

Description: The Forest of Veiled Spirits is a place shrouded in mystery, protected for centuries by an ancient order. Legends say the forest is a gateway to the spirit realm, where creatures and guardians known as fylgja roam—beings attuned to those of strong heart and will that are invisible to most people Something has disturbed this delicate balance. The forest's creatures are distressed, and the fylgja have begun to break free, attacking nearby settlements in a frenzy. Uncover the source of the corruption and restore harmony to the forest.

Goal: Discover what has driven the fylgja from their forest sanctuary and led them to attack nearby villages.

Reward:

Gold

Experience

Item x1

Rose steadied herself, taking in the chaotic scene around her. She quickly climbed to her feet, her senses on high alert. Flames crackled in the huts nearby, heat licking at her face. The smoke was thick, but through it, she spotted spectral figures slipping back toward the edge of the forest. Their retreat was silent, eerie, and unsettling, as if they were part of the forest itself, fading into the darkness like mist in moonlight.

Determined to help, Rose rushed to the villagers, grabbing a bucket and joining a line of people passing water from the well to douse the fires. The villagers looked ragged, their clothes singed, faces smudged with soot and fear.

"Thank you, stranger," an older man said, pausing as he wiped sweat from his brow. His hands were gnarled, and his eyes, though tired, held a spark of gratitude. "We're not used to this kind of trouble. Spirits wandering so close... it's unnatural."

Rose took a deep breath, then gestured toward the forest. "Those figures—wraiths or spirits, whatever they were—have they attacked the village before? Or done anything like this?"

The man shook his head gravely. "No, not in all my years. The spirits usually keep to the deeper parts of the forest. But lately..." His voice trailed off as he cast a wary glance at the treeline, his expression grim.

A younger woman nearby, her face streaked with ash, joined in, clutching her small daughter close. "It started a few weeks back. Just strange things at first. Animals getting restless, trees creaking like they were trying to speak. And then, last night, the spirits came closer." Her voice trembled. "They... they're angry about something, I think."

Rose exchanged looks with both villagers. "Has anything changed recently? Maybe something in the forest that might have disturbed them?"

The woman hesitated before speaking, casting a worried look toward the older man. "Some say there's been a corruption—an energy that wasn't there before. People have gone missing in the woods, and those who come back…" Her voice dropped, almost to a whisper, "... they're not the same."

Rose frowned, taking in their words. "Has anyone tried to investigate it?"

The older man nodded. "A few of our strongest hunters went in last week, determined to get to the heart of the matter. But only one returned, and he barely speaks now, just stares out toward the trees as if something's watching him." He pointed to a young man by the well, his eyes distant and unblinking.

Rose approached the young man cautiously. "Did you see what's causing this disturbance in the forest?"

The young man's gaze flicked toward her, unfocused. "It's... dark," he murmured. "The forest feels sick. And the spirits... they're trying to protect it, but something powerful is driving them out, pushing them into our world."

Rose's resolve hardened. She nodded to herself, piecing together what she could. "Thank you," she said softly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I'll see what I can do."

As she stepped back, the villagers watched her with a mix of hope and apprehension. They didn't know her, but at that moment, they looked at her as someone who might just have the strength—and the heart—to face whatever lay in the shadows of the Forest of Veiled Spirits.

After helping extinguish the last of the flames, Rose brushed the soot from her hands, feeling the weight of the villagers' gratitude as they murmured their thanks. The older man, his hands trembling slightly, handed her a crudely drawn map on a worn piece of parchment.

"Follow this," he said, his voice low. "It'll take you to an old temple about a mile into the forest. It's been there as long as any of us can remember—maybe longer. They say it's a place the spirits once watched over."

She nodded, accepting the map and thanking him, her mind already turning to the task ahead. She took a final look at the village, the fearful eyes of its people, and the young mother holding her child close. With a quiet promise to herself, she turned and walked toward the edge of the forest.

The moment she stepped under the dense canopy, a chill settled over her. Shadows cloaked the ground, and the trees seemed impossibly tall, towering like silent sentinels. The faint light from the village quickly faded behind her, leaving only a dim glow filtering through thick branches above. Each step seemed to echo in the stillness, and her boots crunched against brittle leaves that hadn't felt sunlight in decades.

As she moved further in, a sense of unease grew stronger. She could feel it in the prickling at the back of her neck—the unmistakable sensation of being watched. The forest was dense with life, apparently, yet eerily quiet. The usual sounds of birds or insects were absent, replaced by an unsettling hush that made her footsteps seem too loud, each one almost a violation of this silent, secretive place.

The wind picked up, rustling through the leaves with a strange, rhythmic whisper, as if carrying voices that spoke in a language she couldn't quite understand. Shadows shifted at the edge of her vision, fleeting and immaterial, leaving her wondering if she'd actually seen something, or if the forest itself was playing tricks on her. The air was damp and cold, clinging to her skin, and with each step, the light seemed to dim further, thickening into an oppressive twilight.

The path was narrow and overgrown, with roots snaking across the ground like gnarled hands reaching out to trip her. Every so often, she caught glimpses of strange shapes carved into the bark of trees—symbols weathered by time, almost hidden under layers of moss and lichen. She had the unsettling feeling that the forest was ancient, as if it had seen far more than any of the villages near its borders.

She pushed forward, gripping the map tightly as she counted each step, her eyes scanning for any movement. The temple, the man had said, was a mile in. But here, under the weight of the forest's gaze, it felt like it could be a thousand.

As Rose moved cautiously forward, her senses heightened, something shifted in the gloom ahead. Out of the misty darkness, a wraith appeared, its form barely more than a thin shroud of ghostly gray, trailing wisps of mist as it glided silently toward her. She froze, her heart pounding as it approached without a sound, almost blending with the fog itself.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Before she could react, the wraith passed directly through her. An icy chill spread across her chest, leaving her gasping and shuddering as a sensation of sorrow seeped into her bones. She spun around, trying to catch her breath and steady herself.

The wraith lingered, hovering just at the edge of her vision, and she cautiously reached out with her voice.

"Can... can you understand me?" she asked, her words barely more than a whisper, unwilling to disturb the eerie quiet.

The wraith shifted, a faint sound coming from it, like wind whistling through hollow reeds. Words floated to her on fragments of sound, half-heard and indistinct. She could barely make them out, but one word emerged, soft yet clear, piercing the silence.

"Help..."

The word hung in the air, an imploring echo that filled her with an odd mix of pity and unease. She opened her mouth to ask more, to try to understand, but then another presence emerged from the shadows—a second wraith, though this one was different. Its form was twisted and contorted, dark veins of corruption winding through its translucent body. A sickening stench filled the air as it drew closer, an odor like decaying wood and rancid earth.

The corrupted wraith lunged at her, its form rippling with dark energy. Rose reacted instinctively, raising her staff and summoning the Water Strike spell embedded within it. She felt a surge of power as water coalesced at the tip of her staff, condensing into a sharp, shimmering stream before she sent it slicing toward the wraith.

The first strike staggered it, and the creature screeched—a high, grating sound that echoed through the trees. Rose didn't hesitate. She struck again, and then again, the water magic slicing through the wraith's corrupted form, dispersing more and more of its essence with each strike. Finally, with a last, tortured wail, the wraith dissipated, vanishing into the air, leaving behind only a faint trace of its foul reek.

She let out a shaky breath, lowering her staff. Her mind raced, unsettled by both the encounter and her own limited magical arsenal.

"I'm going to need more spells if there's more of that out here." she muttered, frustration creeping into her voice. She bemoaned the lack of skill books or training to expand her abilities. "It'd be nice if these ancient forests handed out some skill books," she thought wryly, glancing around, but the forest merely loomed in its oppressive silence, unimpressed by her plight.

With a final glance at the eerie, twisted trees around her, she steadied herself and pressed on, knowing that whatever had driven the wraiths out was likely still waiting somewhere ahead.

Rose moved through the dense, tangled undergrowth, each step feeling like a small victory against the oppressive forest. The branches clawed at her, thorns caught her cloak, and thick roots threatened to trip her at every turn.

Suddenly, a hiss sounded from her left. She barely had time to raise her staff before another corrupted wraith emerged from the shadows, its face twisted and warped, blackened tendrils swirling through its translucent form. She swung her staff in a defensive arc, summoning a Water Strike to hold it off, but her aim was off due to the dim light. The water blast only clipped the wraith, and it lunged at her, clawing through the air with skeletal fingers.

She quickly gathered herself and struck it again, driving it back. But as it retreated, another one emerged from her right, and then another. They circled her, dark shapes shifting and undulating as they closed in, each reeking of rot and decay.

Rose grimaced, tightening her grip on her staff. She sent another Water Strike toward the nearest wraith, but a sudden swipe from one of them knocked the staff from her hand. It clattered to the ground, just out of reach.

"Great," she muttered, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "As if this wasn't already difficult enough!"

The wraiths moved closer, their clawed hands reaching out, forcing her back. She braced herself, ready to dive for her staff, but before she could move, she felt a cold, weightless touch on her shoulder. She turned, her breath catching. The first wraith she'd encountered—the one that had asked for help—was standing behind her, its face softer and sadder than the corrupted forms around her.

It placed a spectral hand on her back, and she felt an odd warmth spreading from the point of contact, flooding her mind with a sensation both foreign and familiar. Images of flames danced in her thoughts, as if the wraith were kindling something within her. A word echoed in her mind, unbidden yet clear: Firebolt.

Without hesitation, she extended her hand, focusing on the sensation left by the wraith's touch. She felt a heat surge within her, and as she focused it outward, a small, concentrated bolt of fire burst from her palm, shooting directly at the nearest corrupted wraith. The flames struck it head-on, igniting its spectral form. The creature shrieked, writhing as the fire seared through it before it vanished, leaving behind only a wisp of smoke.

A sense of triumph filled her, and she quickly turned to the remaining wraiths, casting another Firebolt, then another, and another. Each strike hit its target with precision, sending the corrupted spirits scattering back into the shadows, leaving only silence in their wake.

Rose took a steadying breath, glancing over her shoulder, but the wraith that had helped her was gone. She looked down at her hands, still tingling with the heat of the fire magic.

"Thank you," she whispered into the quiet, unsure if the spirit could hear her.

New Skill: Firebolt (Uncommon)

Description: A focused surge of mana infused with the raw essence of fire. By channeling this power, the caster conjures a blazing bolt of flame, compact and volatile, capable of piercing through shadows and searing foes.

Effects:

Flame Strike:

Releases a concentrated blast of fire energy in a straight line, burning anything in its path.

Ignition Potential:

Enemies struck by the

Firebolt

may ignite, suffering additional fire damage over time.

Piercing Heat:

When cast with precision,

Firebolt

can penetrate weaker defenses, allowing the caster to strike multiple targets in a single line.

With a last glance around, she pressed on, her path now lit by the faint glow of the temple ahead, its ancient stones just barely visible through the trees. She could feel she was getting closer, but with every step, the forest seemed to grow darker, as if preparing for one final test.

Rose moved cautiously through the dense trees, her gaze fixed on the temple's looming shape ahead. Every step felt heavier as the air around her grew charged with an unfamiliar energy, powerful and oppressive. Tendrils of corrupted mana seemed to pulse from the building, swirling faintly in the air like an invisible fog. She took a steadying breath, gathering her resolve, and began her approach.

The temple entrance lay partially obscured by vines and shadows, its stone archways ancient and imposing. She slipped inside, pressing herself against the cool, worn walls and moving quietly through the dim corridors. Only the occasional faint echo of corrupted specters drifted toward her, each time forcing her to still her breath and wait. Twice, she dispatched them swiftly, the Firebolt spell searing through the darkness with an eerie glow, dispersing the infected spirits in moments.

As she made her way deeper into the temple, the energy thickened. It felt tangible, weighing on her shoulders and pressing against her chest. The hallway opened into a large, circular chamber, its walls lined with intricate carvings of creatures and spirits intertwined with natural elements. But now, the carvings were defaced, overtaken by dark tendrils of corruption creeping like veins over the stone. In the center of the room, a massive wraith loomed, its form twisted and towering, far larger and darker than any she had encountered before. It exuded a sense of malice, its face half-hidden by swirling shadows, with hollow, empty eyes that locked onto her the moment she entered.

The creature let out a low, rumbling growl, its voice a grating hiss that resonated through the chamber. Rose clenched her staff, feeling a surge of adrenaline. She would have to face it head-on.

With a sharp, fluid motion, she raised her hand and cast a Firebolt directly at the creature's chest. The bolt shot forward, illuminating the chamber in a burst of fiery light, striking the wraith with a satisfying impact. But instead of recoiling, the wraith absorbed the fire, its dark form twisting and expanding, feeding on the energy. She took a step back, heart pounding.

"Alright, fire alone won't cut it," she muttered, her mind racing. She needed a different strategy.

The wraith lunged, gliding across the floor with unnatural speed, reaching out with dark, clawed hands. Rose barely dodged, rolling to the side, her instincts taking over. She focused on her newly learned Firebolt spell, altering its shape in her mind, concentrating the mana as much as she could before launching it again. This time, she directed it at one of the dark veins along the wall, hoping to weaken the corruption that fed the wraith.

The Firebolt struck true, shattering a portion of the corrupted tendril. The wraith shrieked, its form flickering as the corruption feeding it began to break down.

She took advantage of its weakened state, summoning her Water Strike spell to attack the creature directly. The water magic struck it like a torrent, and this time, the wraith recoiled, parts of its shadowy form dissipating as it was doused. The combination of fire and water was unraveling its dark power, and she realized she had found the creature's weakness—combining elements to disrupt its corrupted energy.

Emboldened, Rose alternated between Water Strikes and Firebolts, each attack targeted at the weakening wraith and the tendrils binding it to the temple. The wraith howled, its form destabilizing with each hit, pieces of its shadowy body flaking away like ash.

With one final, concentrated Firebolt, she struck the wraith in the center of its chest, pouring every ounce of mana into the attack. The creature let out a piercing scream as it disintegrated, leaving only a faint wisp of smoke drifting into the air.

The oppressive energy lifted from the room, and the corrupted veins slowly shrank, withering to dust. Rose staggered back, breathing heavily, as silence settled over the chamber once more. She glanced around, taking in the now-peaceful temple, a sense of relief washing over her.

As the last remnants of dark energy dispersed, Rose sank down onto the steps leading up to the central dais, letting herself rest, her muscles aching from the prolonged fight. She exhaled, feeling the weight of her exhaustion settle over her as she stared into the now-silent chamber.

Behind her, the air grew subtly colder, and faint shapes began to coalesce. A small gathering of wraiths materialized, their spectral forms flickering in the dim light, including the one she had first encountered in the forest. Their voices reached her in broken fragments, half-formed words layered with whispers.

"... Thank you ..."

"... Protector ..."

And one word that brought an unexpected warmth to her heart: "... Friend ..."

She turned, her gaze softening as she looked at the wraiths. "Thank you," she murmured, though she wasn't sure if they could hear or understand her.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her quest log to accept the completion and return, but before she could select anything, the wraiths surged forward in a line, gliding silently through her. A wave of cold and warmth intertwined, spreading through her chest, but this time, something lingered—a faint connection that pulsed like a heartbeat within her.

She looked at her screen, and her eyes widened, surprised by what she saw there.

Path Unlocked: Path of the Fylgja

Description: The Path of the Fylgja is a journey guided by the connection to a personal guardian spirit, which often takes the form of an animal that reflects the individual's essence. This path intertwines empathy with strength, where the guardian spirit offers guidance, protection, and enhanced elemental power. Those who walk this path are called to balance compassion with fierceness, letting their inner spirit guide them through both peaceful and turbulent times.

Tenets:

Spirit Bond:

The guardian spirit serves as a guide and protector, empowering the path-walker's elemental abilities and aiding in times of danger.

Guided By Instinct:

Those on this path must learn to trust their instincts, drawing wisdom from animals and nature to navigate challenges and make decisions in alignment with their spirit's guidance.

Ember of the Fylgja:

Elemental power is intertwined with the bond to the spirit. When protecting life, the path-walker's power intensifies, reflecting the strength of their guardian.

Balance of Nature:

This path requires balance between fierceness and gentleness, as the path-walker learns to harness their power responsibly, embodying harmony with nature and respect for all life.

Picking her jaw up off the floor, she muttered to herself, "These tutorials are nothing like Sinclair described." She sighed, bracing herself. "I wonder what's next. It had better be a nap, or I'm going to get seriously cranky."

It is time to depart. Are you ready? Yes / No

With a final look at the screen, she hit Yes and was once again whisked through a portal.