FORGOTTEN SPELLS

The evening had settled over the town, casting long shadows across Lena's room. The soft light of the lamp on her desk flickered, barely keeping the darkness at bay. She sat on the edge of her bed, the journal she had discovered earlier that day resting in her lap. The events that had transpired—the strange cabinet, the hidden map, and the unsettling note—played on a loop in her mind, refusing to let her rest.

Jarin had left hours ago, hurrying to his mother's side shortly after their discovery. His absence left the house eerily quiet, every creak and groan of the old structure amplified in the silence. Lena found herself glancing at the walls, half-expecting to see something emerge from the corners, but there was only stillness.

She thumbed through the pages of the journal, the worn leather cover rough under her fingertips, its surface cracked from age and use. Each page held a new sketch, more detailed and unsettling than the last. The images were of places she knew—her town, the old forest, even the lake she often visited. But something was wrong with them. The familiar landmarks were twisted, altered in ways that made them feel foreign, almost sinister. The trees in the forest were gnarled and contorted, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. The lake, usually calm and serene, was depicted with dark, churning waters, as if something malevolent lurked beneath its surface.

As she turned another page, her breath caught in her throat. The sketch on this page was of her house, but it was different. The walls were cracked and crumbling, the windows shattered, and dark, shadowy figures loomed in the background, their forms twisted and indistinct. They were barely more than smudges of black on the page, but there was something horribly familiar about them. The shapes, the way they seemed to pulse and writhe, reminded her of the creature that had attacked the town the other night.

Her fingers trembled as she traced the lines of one of the figures. It had no clear face, no defining features, just a vague, humanoid shape made of darkness. But its presence on the page was palpable as if the sketch itself was imbued with the same malevolent energy that had radiated from the creature in the café. The realization sent a chill down her spine—whoever had drawn these images knew about the creatures, and had seen them long before they emerged from the shadows to wreak havoc.

She flipped the page, her heart racing. The next sketch was even worse. It depicted a narrow alleyway, eerily similar to the one she had fled through that night. The same shadowy creatures filled the scene, but this time they were more defined, more solid. Their limbs were long and spindly, their fingers ending in sharp, claw-like points. They seemed to be moving, their bodies blurring as if caught in motion, and their eyes—if they could even be called that—were nothing more than dark pits, voids that seemed to swallow the light.

Lena's breath quickened as she stared at the page. The images were too close to what she had seen, too accurate to be mere coincidence. Her father had kept this journal hidden away, buried behind a false wall in the workshop. He had known something, something he hadn't shared with her. The creatures weren't just a figment of her imagination—they were real, and her father had known they were coming.

The weight of this realization pressed down on her, a suffocating mix of fear and betrayal. Her fingers trembled as she closed the journal, unable to summon the energy to flip through any more of its haunting pages. The thought of what else might be hidden within was too overwhelming to bear.

She placed the journal carefully on the desk, its presence a looming reminder of the dark truths it held. The room felt colder, the shadows deeper, and the faint light from the lamp on her desk seemed insufficient to keep the encroaching darkness at bay. As she reached for the lamp, intending to turn it off, her hand hovered over the switch. She paused, her heart pounding in her chest.

A wave of dread washed over her at the thought of being enveloped in darkness, alone in the house with only her fears and the journal's revelations for company. The idea of extinguishing the light filled her with a paralyzing terror. She could almost feel the shadows creeping closer, waiting to consume her the moment the room went dark.

Lena pulled her hand away from the lamp, her breath unsteady. She was too scared—too scared to face the dark, too scared to face what might be lurking within it. The fact that she was alone in the house only heightened her fear, the silence pressing in on her, amplifying every creak and groan of the old structure.

She backed away from the desk, her eyes flicking to the corners of the room, where the darkness pooled like ink. The soft, steady glow of the lamp was the only thing keeping the shadows at bay, the only comfort she had in the face of the unknown. She couldn't bring herself to turn it off—not tonight, not after what she had seen.

With a shaky breath, Lena lay on her bed, pulling her legs up to her chest as she tried to steady her racing thoughts. She needed to calm down, to think clearly, but the fear was too strong, too overwhelming. The darkness outside the circle of light seemed to pulse with a life of its own, and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her, waiting for her to make a mistake. 

The house, usually so familiar and comforting, felt foreign now as if it harboured secrets of its own. Every creak of the floorboards, every groan of the walls seemed to carry a hidden menace, feeding the terror that gripped her. The more she tried to convince herself that she was safe, the more the fear grew, like a dark, insidious force whispering that she was wrong.

She considered going to Jarin's house, the idea flitting through her mind like a fleeting escape. Surely, being with him would make the darkness less suffocating, the silence less ominous. But just as quickly as the thought came, she dismissed it. The night was too thick with shadows, too alive with the memory of what she had seen. The idea of stepping outside, of facing the night alone, was just as terrifying as the darkness in her room.

So she stayed there, wrapped in the blanket, her body tense and her mind racing. She would wait it out, she told herself. The night couldn't last forever. Morning would come, bringing with it the light she so desperately needed. And then, maybe, she would find the courage to face whatever was hiding in the shadows—both in her room and in the journal's pages.

But for now, all she could do was hold on, her eyes wide open, watching the darkness, and praying that it wouldn't consume her before dawn.

Finally, the morning came. Lena woke up to the sound of someone knocking at the front door. Her heart raced as she stumbled out of bed, the remnants of fear from the previous night still gripping her. She hurried to the door and opened it, her breath catching when she saw Jarin's familiar face.

Without a word, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jarin, momentarily taken aback by the sudden embrace, quickly returned the hug. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Lena stepped back, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "No, I just… needed it," she admitted softly.

Jarin's worried expression softened slightly. "Well, what you also need is a good breakfast." He picked up a basket covered with a cloth. Lena could tell it held fresh food by the tantalizing smell that oddly comforted her.

Jarin walked into the kitchen. As Lena was closing the door, she heard him calling her name. She quickly joined him, finding him already in the kitchen, looking back at the doorway and then at her. The kitchen, however, had a peculiar odor that made Lena's stomach churn.

"What's that smell?" Lena asked, wrinkling her nose.

Jarin shifted his gaze to a small pot on the shelf. "You didn't eat your food last night, did you? I noticed it's gone bad." He said, eyeing the pot of spoiled rich, that Jarin had delivered through a little kid the previous evening.

Lena sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt. "I was too anxious to eat. I guess I didn't even realize how much time had passed."

Jarin set the basket down on the table and uncovered it, revealing an assortment of bread, cheese, and fruits. "You need to take care of yourself, Lena," he said gently, handing her a piece of bread. 

Lena took the bread, but her thoughts were elsewhere. "I want to go to Darkemoor, Jarin."

Jarin, who had just picked up the small pot to throw away the spoiled rice, paused mid-motion. He turned to her, surprise evident on his face. "I thought you didn't want to go."

Lena looked at him, her expression firm. "I need answers, Jarin. There's too much we don't understand, and going to Darkemoor might be the only way to find them."

As she spoke, Lena's hands clenched the piece of bread, her knuckles whitening with the force of her grip.

Jarin, seeing the shift in her demeanor, slowly set the pot down on the counter, his own resolve hardening as he absorbed the weight of her words. The air between them crackled with unspoken understanding, both of them realizing that this journey might change everything. They had faced challenges before, but this—this was different. It wasn't just about survival; it was about uncovering truths that had remained hidden for too long.

Jarin set the pot down, studying her face carefully. After a moment, he nodded. 

Not long after, Jarin left the house, mentioning briefly that he would be back soon.

Lena sat on the edge of her bed, her mind whirling with thoughts as she stared at the half-filled satchel before her. The decision to leave had been sudden. The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of the fabric as she folded a thick cloak, placing it carefully atop the few belongings she had already packed.

Lena was in the middle of tucking the last vial into a protective cloth when the door creaked open behind her. She turned, her heart skipping a beat as Jarin stepped back into the room. His expression was unreadable, but the way he moved—the slight tension in his shoulders, the purposeful set of his jaw—told her that whatever he had been doing, it hadn't been easy.

"Everything ready?" he asked, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of something she couldn't quite place.

"Almost," Lena replied, closing the chest and securing the last of the items in her satchel. "Where did you go?"

Jarin hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking away before meeting hers again. "Just had to take care of a few things," he said, the vague response doing little to ease her curiosity. But she didn't press him. If he wanted to keep it to himself, she would let him.

As she tied the satchel shut, Jarin moved to stand beside her. He reached out to take the bag from her hands, but she held on for a moment, her gaze locking with his.

"You know you don't have to do this alone, right?" Jarin said, his voice softening as he spoke. "We can take this on together."

Lena frowned slightly, something in his words catching her off guard. "Jarin, you can't just say 'we' like it's that simple. You have other responsibilities."

He paused, searching her eyes before replying, "We will do this together, Lena. I'm not leaving you to face this on your own."

"But what about your mother?" Lena pressed, her voice tinged with concern. "She needs you."

Jarin's expression softened even further, a small, reassuring smile touching his lips. "Calen will take care of her for a while. He knows what to do."

Jarin hesitated, his smile becoming a bit awkward as he realized his secret wasn't as well-guarded as he thought. "Well... yes, but not just that," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "I also needed to pick up some herbs for our journey."

Lena chuckled softly, the tension between them easing. "Of course you did," she said, shaking her head fondly. "Always thinking ahead."

Lena tightened her cloak around her as she and Jarin stepped out into the twilight. The once vibrant town square now felt suffocatingly still, as if the streets themselves were holding their breath. The weight of their earlier ordeal lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive.

"Are you sure about this?" Jarin asked, his voice low. His gaze scanned the streets, where only faint shadows danced under the fading light of the street lamps.

We need to do this," Lena replied, her voice firm though her fingers trembled slightly at her side. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, feeling the cold bite of the evening air. "We can't wait until dawn."

Jarin sighed, shaking his head. "We should've waited," he muttered, his tone laced with frustration. "Leaving at dawn would have been safer. Less chance of running into trouble." He paused, his eyes flicking to the darkened streets around them. "At least the shadows would be behind us with the morning light."

Lena stopped walking and turned to face him, her brows drawn together in frustration. "And I told you," she said, her voice sharp but controlled, "this town is suffocating me. Every minute we stay here, it feels like the walls are closing in. I can't breathe here anymore, Jarin."

Jarin's shoulders tensed, guilt flashing in his eyes at the but rushing out in the dead of night... It's risky. The streets aren't safe right now, Lena."

"Neither is staying here!" Lena shot back, her frustration slipping into her voice.

Jarin's lips pressed into a thin line as he glanced down the narrow alley they were walking through. He hated that she was right, but the tension of leaving in the cover of night gnawed at him. "I just don't like this. Moving in the dark, with everything going on..."

Lena softened slightly, stepping closer and resting a hand on his arm. "I don't like it either, but I can't take it here anymore. The longer we stay, the more trapped I feel. We have to leave. Now."

Jarin met her gaze, the flickering lamplight casting long shadows across their faces. He could see the resolve in Lena's eyes, the same urgency he felt but couldn't bring himself to admit. He exhaled deeply, giving a slow nod. "Alright," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We'll go your way. But let's make sure we're ready for whatever comes."

As they walked in silence for a moment, Lena's mind wandered to the broken carriage her father had once prized. Now it lay useless, damaged beyond repair after the night of the attack. She bit her lip, wishing more than ever they still had it. Having their own carriage would make things simpler—safer. The memory of that shattered wood gnawed at her thoughts.

"If only we had a working carriage," she muttered, more to herself than to Jarin, her frustration creeping into her voice. "We wouldn't have to rely on anyone else, especially not at this hour."

Jarin shot her a quick glance, sensing her unease. "Don't worry about that. I've got it covered," he said, his tone trying to reassure her, though Lena could hear the tension beneath his calm facade.

"How?" Lena asked, her curiosity piqued. She trusted Jarin, but there was something he wasn't telling her—something he'd been keeping from her since he left earlier that evening. He had claimed he went to see Calen.

Jarin didn't respond right away, instead leading her toward the quieter side of town, where the streets were darker and fewer people roamed. The mist from the river ahead swirled around their feet, adding an eerie chill to the air.

Before she could press him further, a figure stepped out from the shadows ahead—tall, arrogant, and unmistakable. Lena's stomach dropped as Roderick emerged, his smirk illuminated by the faint flicker of a nearby streetlamp. His polished constable uniform gleamed under the dim light, and his presence alone filled the air with an oppressive weight.

"What is he doing here?" Lena whispered, her pulse quickening. She instinctively took a step closer to Jarin, her eyes narrowing with distrust.

To her surprise, Jarin didn't react with the same tension. In fact, there was no shock on his face at all. Lena's heart sank as she realized what was happening. "Jarin..." she began, her voice trembling with realization. "You didn't go to Calen, did you?"

Jarin exhaled slowly, his expression taut as if he had hoped to avoid this conversation. But Roderick's sudden appearance had forced the truth to the surface. "I did go to Calen, Lena. That part was true," he said quietly. "We needed transport out of here tonight, and Roderick was the only one who could arrange it on such short notice."

Lena's breath caught in her throat. Her mind raced, trying to piece everything together. "You... went to him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, hurt and confusion mingling in her tone. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You lied to me," Lena said, her voice firmer now, though the sting of betrayal weighed heavily on her chest. "You said you went to Calen."

"No, I didn't lie," Jarin protested, his voice faltering. "I never said—"

Roderick, who had been watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement, stepped closer. The sound of his boots on the cobblestone street echoed louder than it should have in the still night. "Relax, Lena. Your friend here made a smart choice. I arranged a carriage—no strings attached," he said with a smug grin.

Lena's jaw tightened. She didn't trust Roderick—not in the slightest. He had brought them nothing but trouble, and now Jarin had turned to him for help. But they had no other options. They needed to leave, and if Roderick was their only way out, she had to swallow her pride and accept it.

"Where's the carriage?" Lena asked sharply, not bothering to glance at Roderick.

He chuckled, satisfaction clear in his eyes as he motioned toward the alley behind him. "Just around the corner. You'll be out of here before dawn, I assure you."

As they moved toward the carriage, Roderick casually fell into step beside them. "I'll be coming along for the ride," he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. "It's only fair, considering the arrangement."

Lena halted abruptly, her eyes flicking to Jarin's with a mixture of frustration and resignation. She turned to face Roderick, suspicion flaring in her chest. "Why do you need to come with us?" she demanded, her voice cold. "You've done your part. You got us a carriage, haven't you? What's your reason for tagging along?"

Roderick's smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "Look, I know you don't trust me, and that's fine," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "But these roads... they're dangerous, especially at night. You might not have heard, but the constables have been dealing with more than just bandits lately." He paused, his eyes locking with hers. "There have been disappearances. Travelers who didn't make it through the forest. Not to mention those strange occurrences everyone's been whispering about since that night. I can't let you go unprotected, not when I'm the one who arranged this."

Lena hesitated, her suspicion lingering but now mixed with uncertainty. "Disappearances?" she echoed, her tone softening slightly.

Roderick nodded, his gaze steady and earnest. "Yes. And if something happens to you out there, it'll be on me. The last thing I need is to explain to the mayor— or Sir Bramwell—that I let you two go off alone and something went wrong. It's safer if I come along, plain and simple."

Lena's eyes flicked to Jarin, who shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.. " Lena," Jarin added softly. "It's not ideal, but we could use the extra help, especially if there's something worse than bandits out there."

She hated the thought of Roderick being right, but deep down, she knew they were in no position to refuse. "Fine," she muttered, her voice tight. "But this doesn't mean I trust you."

Roderick didn't smile, but there was a glint of understanding in his eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less," he replied simply.

With that, they resumed walking toward the waiting carriage, the tension between them heavy, but the necessity of the situation pushing them forward.

Lena's eyes flicked to Jarin, who shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. She hated that Roderick was right—traveling at night was dangerous, and they were in no position to refuse extra protection. Still, the thought of relying on him sent a bitter taste to her mouth.

She said nothing, but her stiff posture conveyed her displeasure as she reluctantly resumed walking toward the carriage. There was no alternative but to move forward.

The alley felt narrower than it should have, shadows creeping in from all sides as they followed Roderick toward the carriage. The faint sound of hooves clattering against the cobblestones echoed in the stillness, but the air was heavy, as if it knew something they didn't. As they rounded the corner, the carriage came into view, its dark outline silhouetted in the pale moonlight.

The carriage wasn't entirely enclosed; it had a low roof supported by wooden beams, but the sides were mostly open, with only short walls rising just above the seat level. A thin, worn-out leather canopy stretched across the top, flapping slightly in the wind. The rear of the carriage was open, allowing a clear view of the road behind. There were no windows to obscure the sound, so the driver, sitting up front on a bench, could easily be heard by those seated inside.

The horses, tall and black, stood eerily still, their breath forming thick clouds in the cold night air. Next to them, holding the reins, stood a man in a wide-brimmed hat, the brim casting a shadow over most of his face. He wore a long coat, the fabric of which shimmered slightly in the low light. His back was straight, his posture too rigid for someone standing so casually beside the horses.

Lena immediately felt something was off, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why. She exchanged a glance with Jarin, who looked equally uncomfortable. But the driver's sudden broad smile caught both of them off guard.

"Good evening!" the driver said cheerfully, his voice far too bright for the late hour. He flashed a wide grin, his teeth stark white in the darkness. "Lovely night for a journey, don't you think?" His voice had a singsong quality, as though he were commenting on a pleasant summer's day, not preparing to drive them out of town in the dead of night.

Roderick approached the man without hesitation. "This is our driver," he said, his tone neutral. "Reliable and discreet."

The driver nodded enthusiastically, his wide smile never faltering. "Discreet, indeed! I see nothing, hear nothing. Just the road ahead and the stars above." He chuckled to himself, though there was no joke. "And oh, the stars do have so much to say, don't they?"

Lena blinked, taken aback by the strange comment. She couldn't tell if the man was being poetic or if something was genuinely off with him. She glanced at Jarin, who only shook his head slightly, as if warning her not to react.

"Who is he?" Lena asked in a low voice, her suspicion growing with each passing second.

"Oh, don't worry about me, miss!" the driver piped up before Roderick could answer. "I'm just the one who gets you where you need to go. It's a shame, really. Such a nice town you're leaving. But, you know, some places... hold on to people." His smile widened as if he found this thought comforting, but the comment left a chill running down Lena's spine.

Roderick patted one of the horses as if he hadn't noticed anything strange. "He's the best you'll get on such short notice."

The driver chuckled again, the sound unnatural in the quiet alley. "Oh yes, short notice indeed! But then again, leaving quickly has its perks, doesn't it? Especially when one doesn't want to be... found." His eyes gleamed from beneath the brim of his hat, though his smile never wavered.

Lena exchanged a nervous glance with Jarin, her heart pounding. The man was clearly off, but what choice did they have? With a deep breath, she climbed into the carriage, her skin prickling with unease. Jarin followed, moving carefully, as if expecting something to go wrong at any moment.

As they settled in, Roderick climbed into the carriage as well, sitting across from them with a smirk. The driver clambered into his seat outside with surprising speed and agility, snapping the reins sharply. The horses jerked forward, and the carriage jolted into motion.

For a while, the journey was silent, save for the steady clop of the horses' hooves on the dirt road and the creaking of the carriage wheels. 

The driver's voice floated back through the fog. "Lovely night, isn't it?" he called out. "Reminds me of the time I took some folks down this road... oh, but that was years ago. They never made it out of the forest, poor souls."

Out of instinct, Lena blurted, "What!" 

The driver chuckled softly, his tone turning cryptic. "Sometimes, it's the people who stray from the road. Other times, it's the road that decides to stray from them."

Lena's heart lurched, her eyes widening as she glanced at Jarin. His face was tense, his jaw clenched.

"What's he talking about?" Lena whispered to Jarin, her voice shaky.

"He's just trying to scare us," Jarin replied, though his tone lacked confidence. "Ignore him."

Roderick, however, leaned back with a smirk. "Driver's got a way with stories, doesn't he?" he said. "But I wouldn't worry too much. We're well on our way out now." His voice was steady, but Lena could see the tension in his eyes, hidden beneath his casual demeanor.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry either," the driver called back, his voice unnervingly bright. "Worrying never did anyone any good on these roads. Best to sit back and enjoy the ride... while you can."

The carriage continued to rumble along the winding road, now beginning its ascent into the mountains. The mist thickened, swirling around the trees like ghostly fingers, and the air grew colder. Lena shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her.

Another jolt shook the carriage, and Lena grabbed the edge of her seat. "What was that?" she asked, her voice edged with panic.

The driver's laugh was unnerving. "Oh, just the road. It has a mind of its own sometimes. But don't you worry—no one's gotten lost... yet."

The horses whinnied nervously, their steps faltering. The carriage swayed dangerously as the road beneath them narrowed, becoming more treacherous with every turn. Lena could hear the faint sound of rushing water below, the river that flowed at the base of the mountain.

"We're getting close to the edge," Jarin muttered, his knuckles white as he gripped the seat.

The driver Laughed cheerfully, oblivious to the growing danger. "What a beautiful place to fall, don't you think?" he said brightly, his voice too loud against the eerie stillness.

The carriage swerved suddenly, the wheels slipping on loose gravel. Lena's heart leapt into her throat as the carriage tipped dangerously to one side, the edge of the cliff looming just ahead.

Roderick sat up straighter, as he glanced over the side. "Pull them back," he ordered sharply, but the driver seemed to ignore him.

"Almost there," the driver called out, his voice far too calm. "Just a little further... or maybe not." He laughed softly, the sound drifting back to them like a whisper in the dark.

Lena's heart raced as the carriage suddenly veered too close to the edge, the wheels skidding on the loose gravel. The wooden frame groaned in protest, and then—without warning—it tipped over, plunging toward the cliffside.

"Hold on!" Jarin yelled, grabbing Lena's arm as the carriage fell. The world spun around them in a blur of darkness and chaos, the sound of splintering wood and rushing water filling the air.

The carriage crashed down the steep mountainside, tumbling toward the river below. Lena's body slammed into the rough wooden boards as she was thrown from her seat, the freezing water of the river swallowing her whole as they landed with a deafening splash.

Standing at the edge of the cliff, the driver stood untouched, his wide-brimmed hat still casting shadows over his face. His posture was eerily calm, as though

The driver stood there, unharmed, his wide-brimmed hat still casting shadows over his face.

"Well now," he said, his voice as bright as ever, "looks like the road wandered off from you this time, didn't it?"