The Lost Vanguard

The moment we stepped into the village, the air felt heavier, charged with an unspoken tension. The faint scent of smoke was stronger here, mingling with something more metallic, iron, blood. The flicker of fire in my chest burned brighter, urging me to stay alert.

Kaldar led the way, his steps deliberate as his eyes scanned every shadow. The village looked abandoned at first glance, but the signs of life were unmistakable. A wooden cart sat half-filled with firewood near a cottage, its handle tilted awkwardly in the snow. A shutter creaked in the wind, swinging lazily on rusted hinges. A fresh trail of boot prints led toward the larger structure at the center of the village, a gathering hall, perhaps.

"We split up," Kaldar said, his voice cutting through the eerie quiet. "Elryan, Myrial, take the left. Alaric, stay with me."

Elryan's face twisted in irritation, but Myrial nodded, already moving toward one of the smaller houses with her staff at the ready. Elryan followed reluctantly, his polished armor gleaming even in the dull light.

Kaldar turned to me. "Keep your weapon ready," he said. "And stay close."

I nodded, gripping the hilt of my sword tightly as we moved toward the center of the village. The gathering hall loomed before us, its wide double doors slightly ajar. A faint trail of red stained the snow leading up to it, and my stomach twisted at the sight.

"Inside," Kaldar said, his voice low but firm. He pushed the door open with the flat of his hand, the wood creaking loudly in the still air.

The interior was dimly lit, the only light coming from a few dying embers in the hearth. The long wooden tables and benches were overturned, and the floor was littered with broken dishes and scattered tools. At the far end of the room, slumped against the wall, was a figure—a man, his clothes stained with blood.

Kaldar held out an arm, motioning for me to stay back as he approached the figure cautiously. The man's chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, his face pale and drawn.

"What happened here?" Kaldar asked, his tone sharp but not unkind.

The man's eyes fluttered open, dull and unfocused. His lips moved, but the words were barely a whisper. Kaldar leaned in closer, his expression hardening as he listened.

"Wolves…" the man rasped. "Everywhere… bigger… not natural…"

My chest tightened, the flicker of fire surging as the man's words sank in. Wolves. The memory of the beast that had nearly killed me flashed through my mind, its claws raking my chest, its weight pinning me to the ground.

Kaldar straightened, his jaw set. "We need to secure the area," he said, turning to me. "Go find Myrial and Elryan. Tell them to regroup here."

I hesitated, glancing at the man on the floor. "What about him?"

"I'll take care of him," Kaldar said firmly. "Go."

I nodded, swallowing hard as I turned and hurried out of the hall. The cold air hit me like a slap, but I barely noticed. My grip tightened on my sword as I moved through the empty streets, the flicker of fire in my chest growing stronger with every step.

I found Myrial and Elryan near one of the smaller houses, their expressions grim. Myrial's staff glowed faintly, casting a soft light over the body of a wolf sprawled in the snow. It was massive, its fur matted with blood and its jaws still locked in a snarl even in death.

"Alaric," Myrial said, her voice tense. "What is it?"

"Kaldar wants us to regroup at the hall," I said quickly. "There's a survivor, he says the wolves aren't normal."

Elryan scoffed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Great. More wild tales from terrified peasants. Let me guess, they think the wolves are cursed?"

Myrial shot him a sharp look. "Enough. If Kaldar says to regroup, we regroup."

Elryan muttered something under his breath but didn't argue further. The three of us made our way back to the hall, the oppressive silence of the village pressing down on us. The wind howled through the empty streets, carrying with it faint, distant sounds that set my teeth on edge—howls, low and mournful, and something else. Something heavier.

When we reached the hall, Kaldar was waiting outside, his expression grim. "We need to move quickly," he said. "The wolves aren't just attacking, they're driving people out. Hunting them down."

Myrial frowned. "Driving them? For what purpose?"

Kaldar shook his head. "Don't know. But they're not acting alone. Something's controlling them."

"Controlling them?" Elryan echoed, his tone skeptical. "What could possibly-"

A howl cut through the air, louder and closer than before. My heart lurched, and I gripped my sword tightly as the sound seemed to echo from all directions.

"Inside," Kaldar ordered, his voice sharp. "Now."

We hurried back into the hall, barricading the doors as best we could with the broken tables and benches. The man Kaldar had been tending to was unconscious now, his breaths shallow but steady. Myrial knelt beside him, her staff glowing faintly as she murmured a quiet incantation.

The howls grew louder, joined by the sound of claws scraping against wood. My blood ran cold as the first shadow appeared at one of the windows—a massive wolf, its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

"They're here," Kaldar said grimly, drawing his sword. "Get ready."

The fire in my chest roared to life, its heat spreading through my veins as I stepped forward, my sword in hand. The flicker of fear that had lingered at the edges of my mind was gone now, replaced by something sharper, more focused.

The wolves wouldn't wait. And neither would I.