FORGOTTEN SPELLS

A thick, disorienting mist surrounded Lena. Her footsteps felt distant, muffled against the soft ground as she moved forward aimlessly. The world around her was neither solid nor fluid, and the sky above was absent of stars or light. Instead, strange silhouettes of figures, blurry and indistinct, shifted and swayed in the distance, their movements synchronized with the ticking sound of a clock. The ticking was rhythmic, incessant, and unnerving, as if time itself were alive in this strange place.

Her breath quickened as the mist thickened. Every direction looked the same, a maze of smoke and blurred edges. She strained her eyes, trying to make sense of the shadowy figures circling her. The voices—there were so many voices—faint, like whispers carried by the wind, overlapping one another, each one indistinguishable from the next.

"..Lena..."

A word, her name? It came from nowhere, carried by the growing cacophony of whispers. She turned toward the sound, but there was nothing there—just more shadows and mist.

The ticking grew louder.

"...Lena..."

The voices multiplied. They felt like distant calls from another world, from people she couldn't see, and yet she felt they were watching her, waiting for something. Then, an unnatural grinding noise cut through the whispers—a metallic screeching, like metal scraping against metal, abrasive and piercing. Lena instinctively covered her ears, but the sound only grew sharper, the air vibrating with its intensity.

Tick, tick, tick...

The world swirled in disorienting patterns. It was as if the fog, the ticking, and the voices were closing in on her all at once. The metallic screeching clawed at her senses, getting louder with every breath she took. Her chest tightened, her pulse quickening as the noise reached a crescendo.

Scrape, grind, tick...

It was too much. She wanted to scream, to run, but her body refused to move.

Suddenly, the ticking stopped.

Silence.

Lena gasped, her chest heaving. The world held its breath, as if reality had been suspended for that one brief moment. She looked around, her vision still hazy, her legs trembling from the tension. The mist was denser now, and from the corners of her eyes, she saw movement—figures drawing nearer, clearer now, but still indistinct, like memories not fully formed.

"Who's there?" Lena's voice cracked, but she wasn't sure if she was asking the figures or herself.

The metallic sound returned, but this time, it was more deliberate, less chaotic. It was as if something—or someone—was dragging something heavy across a hard surface, approaching her slowly. The mist parted slightly, revealing a faint silhouette—tall, dark, and shifting like the rest of the scene around her.

The whispers rose again, louder now, clashing with the scraping sound, forming a jarring dissonance that gnawed at her mind.

"...Lena... help..."

The voice was clearer this time, but still broken, almost mechanical. It sent a shiver down her spine. She stumbled backward, her heart racing. The shadows seemed to pulse with every beat, closing in around her. The ticking resumed, faster and more erratic than before, syncing with her own ragged breaths.

Then, out of nowhere, an overwhelming clang rang out, like a giant bell tolling in the distance, and the shadows burst forth.

Lena woke with a gasp, her heart pounding as she forced herself to breathe slowly, deeply. She was no longer surrounded by the mist and shadows, but lying on a soft bed in a room that felt strangely familiar. The walls were made of wood, smooth and polished, and a small window to her left let in the pale light of dawn. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the dim light as she steadied her breathing.

Once her breathing evened out, she cautiously opened her eyes, blinking at the dim light that filled the room. She wasn't in the mist anymore—no shadows, no grinding metal, just stillness. Her surroundings felt strangely familiar. She was lying on a soft bed, the weight of a thick blanket covering her, providing warmth. The walls were wooden, smooth and polished, as if she were inside a cozy cottage.

To her left, a faint pale light drew her attention. It streamed through a small window, casting long, soft beams across the room, bathing everything in a gentle morning glow. The light was cool as if the sun had just risen but was not yet warm enough to banish the chill of the night. For a moment, Lena stared at the light, almost mesmerized by its simplicity, as though the glow held some kind of answer. She pushed the blanket aside, standing on shaky legs as she moved closer to the window. Her hands rested on the cool wooden sill as she peered out, and her breath caught in her throat. 

Outside, a thick forest stretched as far as she could see. Trees rose high into the misty morning air, their branches entwined in a dense canopy that cast shadows on the forest floor below. 

Lena stepped back from the window, her pulse quickening again. This place—this room—didn't belong to her. She had no memory of coming here. The unfamiliarity pressed down on her, and she couldn't shake the sense that something was terribly wrong.

That's when she heard it.

Not the ticking she had expected, but something worse—a low, scraping noise, like metal dragging against metal. It was faint at first, but then more voices came, soft and indistinct, whispering in an eerie, almost mechanical hum. They seemed to come from all around her, surrounding her, and filling the room with a strange, unnatural presence.

Lena's body tensed as the sounds grew louder, echoing in the corners of the room. The scraping metal was like a blade being sharpened, harsh, and grating. It made her skin crawl, and the soft, unintelligible voices blended into a haunting chorus, too low to understand but impossible to ignore.

She turned her gaze to the door at the far end of the room, the noise drawing her toward it. Her breath came faster, her nerves on edge, but she had to know where the sound was coming from.

Carefully, she crept toward the door, each step slow and measured. The floorboards creaked softly underfoot as she turned the knob and eased the door open. The hallway beyond was narrow, dark, and cold, leading down to a small staircase. The metallic scraping and whispering voices were clearer now, coming from below.

Taking a deep breath, she descended the stairs, careful not to make a sound. The railing was rough under her hand, the wood worn from years of use. Her bare feet were light on the steps, and she took them one at a time, moving as silently as she could. When she reached the bottom, her eyes swept the room, searching for the source of the sound.

Then she spotted something nearby: an umbrella propped against the wall.

Without thinking, she grabbed it, her fingers wrapping around the handle like a sword. She held it close to her chest, its weight both comforting and absurd. Her grip tightened as she moved further into the room, following the sounds. The whispering voices were gone now, replaced by the steady, rhythmic clatter of metal.

She stepped toward the kitchen, and that's when she saw him.

A man stood at the stove, his back turned to her. His silver hair was neatly tied back, and he moved with a calm, almost practiced grace as he worked. The clatter of metal came from him—pots and pans shifting as he prepared something. He didn't seem to notice her, completely focused on what he was doing.

Lena froze at the kitchen's threshold, the umbrella still clutched in her hands like a weapon. She stared at the man, her mind racing. Who was he? Why was he here?

Before she could make a move, the man spoke, his voice deep and calm. "Take a seat," he said, not turning around. "Breakfast is almost ready."

Lena's grip on the umbrella tightened, her knuckles white as she stood rooted to the spot. The unease that had been building in her chest now twisted into fear. How did he know she was there? Why wasn't he turning around? She didn't move, didn't speak, but the man remained unfazed, casually continuing to work at the stove, as if her presence was expected.

"Who are you?" Lena asked, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt to sound firm.

The man paused, then slowly turned to face her. His expression was serene, and he smiled gently as if trying to put her at ease.His face was striking—sharp, defined features, with high cheekbones and deep-set, piercing blue eyes that stood out against his silver hair. There was an effortless handsomeness about him, made even more pronounced by his calm confidence. His skin was lightly tanned, as if he had spent time outdoors.

He wore a simple yet well-fitted brown outfit—a long coat of soft fabric that draped neatly over his shoulders, the color a warm, earthy tone that blended with the wooden surroundings of the cottage. The coat was open at the front, revealing a plain, dark shirt underneath and a pair of well-tailored trousers. Everything about him, from his calm expression to his neat appearance, seemed calculated to disarm her, but it only made Lena more wary.

 "Don't worry," he said, his tone steady. "I'm a friend."

But Lena didn't relax. Her grip on the umbrella remained tight.

"A friend?" she repeated, her voice sharp with doubt. The unease in her chest only grew stronger. "I don't know you."

The man raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I mean you no harm, Lena. I saved you."

"Saved me?" she echoed, her mind reeling. She narrowed her eyes, trying to piece together what had happened. A sudden flash of memory surged through her—falling, cold water surrounding her, darkness closing in. Her breath hitched as she remembered the river.

Panic seized her chest when her mind went to Jarin and Roderick.

"Where are my friends?" Lena asked, her voice rising in alarm. Her grip on the umbrella tightened further, her knuckles aching. "Where are they?" She stressed each word, her fear turning to desperation.

The man's smile didn't falter. He gestured toward the window, his movements calm and unhurried. "They're outside," he said, his voice gentle. "Clipping their clothes out in the sun to dry. They're safe, I promise."

Lena took a slow step backward, the umbrella still held firmly in her hand. Her eyes never left the man by the stove, half-expecting him to attack at any moment. But he didn't move, didn't make any sudden gestures. Instead, he simply turned back to the stove, his focus on preparing the meal.

She took another cautious step back, then another, inching toward the door. The man didn't follow her. His attention remained on the pan, as if her presence was of no consequence to him. With one last glance, Lena turned and slipped out of the door. The moment the cool morning air hit her face, she felt a surge of relief. Her breathing quickened as she scanned the surroundings.

The air outside was crisp and clean. The small cottage stood on the edge of a vast forest, the trees towering high above her, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze. In the clearing ahead, she spotted movement—two figures, familiar and unmistakable.

Her heart raced. Jarin. Roderick.

She barely registered her own feet moving beneath her as she broke into a run, the umbrella forgotten as it slipped from her fingers and landed softly on the grass. The fear and confusion from inside the cottage were replaced by an overwhelming need to reach them.

Jarin was kneeling by a small line of clothes, hanging them to dry under the early sun. His brown hair, still damp, clung to his forehead. Next to him, Roderick stood, his silver hair catching the light as he worked silently beside Jarin, clipping clothes to the line. The sight of them together, unharmed, brought an overwhelming wave of relief crashing over her.

"Jarin!" Lena's voice broke the silence as she called out to him, her feet barely slowing as she closed the distance between them.

Jarin turned just as Lena reached him, and without hesitation, she threw her arms around him. The force of her embrace knocked him slightly off balance, but he caught himself, wrapping his arms around her in return.

"Lena, are you alright?" Jarin's voice was filled with concern, but there was a softness in his tone, the kind that always soothed her. His body was warm and solid against hers, grounding her in the reality of the moment.

Lena clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder. "I thought... I thought something happened to you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Jarin held her tighter. "We're fine, lena. It's alright."

But even as he spoke, the unease in her chest didn't completely dissipate. She pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. "What happened? How did we end up here?"

Jarin's gaze flicked toward Roderick, who was standing a few paces away, watching them silently. His expression was calm, unreadable, as he continued to hang the last of the clothes. Lena's grip on Jarin tightened at the sight of him, a new wave of apprehension flooding her.

Before she could ask anything else, Roderick spoke, his voice low but clear. "We were swept away by the river. I was able to pull you both out."

"And how exactly did we end up here?" she asked, her tone edged with slight confusion.

Roderick didn't meet her gaze, his focus going back on hanging the last of the clothes. His movements were methodical, almost too calm given the situation. "Edwin was nearby and he brought us here," he said simply. "This cottage belongs to him. It was the safest place to recover."

Lena blinked, her thoughts flicked back to the man in the cottage, his calm demeanor, his unsettling smile.

 "Edwin? The silver-haired guy?" she asked, her mind racing to put the pieces together.

Roderick nodded. "Yes, that's him"

"And you trust him?" she asked.

Roderick finally looked at her, his expression unreadable. "We're alive because of him," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "That's enough for now."

But Lena wasn't convinced. The unease deepened as she listened to Roderick's explanation. The calm way he spoke about Edwin made her skin crawl, reminding her of another time, another person—someone she had trusted. Her thoughts flickered back to the carriage driver.

She glanced at Jarin, who was watching her closely, his expression soft but serious. She could feel the weight of his hand in hers, grounding her, but it did little to ease the storm of questions swirling in her mind.

"We need to get out of here," Lena whispered, her voice barely audible, though the tension in it was unmistakable. She could feel her pulse in her throat, her mind racing back to the grinding noise and the whispers in her dream.

Jarin's gaze hardened slightly. He pulled her aside, lowering his voice. "I don't trust Edwin either," he admitted, glancing at Roderick to ensure he wasn't listening. "But we're in no position to leave right now. If it wasn't for him, we'd still be lost."

Lena frowned, her unease deepening. "That's what makes this even worse," she replied. "Something about this place... it's not right. And Edwin, he's —"

Before she could finish, Roderick straightened up, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he had heard every word but chose to ignore it. "Lena," he said, turning toward her. His silver eyes glinted in the morning light, and for a moment, she couldn't tell whether they were cold or simply indifferent. "We need to talk."

She tensed, her body instinctively shifting closer to Jarin, but she held her ground. "Talk about what?"

Roderick's gaze flicked briefly to Jarin before settling back on her. "About the river. About what you saw." His voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, a hint of something unspoken beneath the surface.

Lena's breath caught in her throat. Her dream—or was it a memory?—had been so vivid. The mist, the ticking, the grinding of metal, and the voices calling her name. But the details were slipping from her grasp, becoming more like fragments of a nightmare than reality. She shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Roderick stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "You do," he insisted. "You saw them, didn't you? The shadows."

Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't told anyone about the figures in the mist, the way they moved and whispered in the dark. How could he know? Lena's fingers twitched, her mind scrambling for answers. "What are you talking about, Roderick?"

Jarin stepped between them, his posture defensive. "Back off, Roderick," he said, his voice firm. "She doesn't owe you any explanations."

Before anyone could utter another word, the door of the cottage creaked open, and Edwin's honey-sweet voice cut through the tension. "Breakfast is ready."

Lena's pulse quickened, her thoughts still churning from the conversation. Roderick's calm explanation hadn't helped ease her unease, and Edwin's well-timed appearance had only deepened her suspicions. Still, she felt Jarin's hand in hers, grounding her.

Jarin leaned in, his voice gentle. "We'll take it slow. Just stay close to me."

Lena nodded, but the tight knot of apprehension in her chest remained. They pushed open the door, which stood slightly ajar. Arin led Lena to a small, cozy room just off the kitchen. The space was warmly lit by the soft morning light that filtered through a nearby window, casting a gentle glow on the wooden furniture and rustic decor. A wooden table was laid out with crusty bread, fresh fruit, and steaming tea. Edwin, with his silver hair catching the soft glow, stood by the table with a welcoming smile.

"Please, sit," Edwin invited, his voice as warm as the aroma of the meal. "You must be famished after everything. It's been two days since you lost consciousness."

"Two days?" Lena's voice wavered in disbelief.

Jarin nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, you gave us quite a scare. But Edwin assured us you'd be fine."

Edwin's smile remained steady. "And she did." pointing at the table he continued "Please, sit before the food gets cold."

Lena hesitated, her unease prickling despite the inviting aroma of the meal. She shared a glance with Jarin before following him to the table. Roderick was already seated, tearing a piece of bread with a relaxed demeanor. "We're fortunate to have stumbled upon this place," he remarked, casting a grateful look at Edwin. "And even more fortunate that you were here to help."

As Lena took her seat, she noticed a subtle change in Roderick. He seemed unusually relaxed, as if the events had somehow shifted something within him. He seems more mature now, she thought.

"Luck had little to do with it," Edwin said, pouring tea into the small clay cups set before them. "I came because I knew something was wrong."

Lena's heart skipped a beat at his words. She stared at Edwin, her grip tightening on the edge of the table. "What do you mean? You knew?"

Edwin met her gaze, his expression unreadable but calm. "I sensed it," he replied simply, as if that explanation was enough. "There are dark things in these woods, things that shouldn't be here. I've been tracking them for a while, and when I found you all by the river... well, I couldn't just leave you."

Lena's breath hitched. "The shadows?"

Edwin nodded, taking a seat across from her. "Yes. They're drawn to something—someone."

Her pulse quickened, the memory of the dream, the shadows in the mist, and the grinding metal rushing back to her in waves. She could still hear the ticking in the back of her mind, faint but persistent. "Why us?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know yet," Edwin said, his tone even. "But I intend to find out."

Lena looked down at her hands, her thoughts spiraling. She felt Jarin's presence beside her, his steady hand brushing against hers beneath the table, and she clung to that small comfort. But her mind kept racing. What did the shadows want with them? What had really happened with the carriage driver? Why did Jarin not see them?

The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until Roderick spoke again. "So what's the plan?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge of urgency beneath it.

Edwin's eyes locked on hers, and for the first time, she saw something flicker in his expression—something dark. "The shadows. They'll keep coming. And when they do, they won't stop until they find what they're looking for."

Her breath caught in her throat. "And what are they looking for?"

Edwin hesitated, his fingers resting on the edge of his cup. "That," he said softly, "is what we need to figure out."

The tension in the room was palpable, but no one spoke for a moment. Lena's mind was spinning. Shadows, dark forces, a search for something they didn't understand. It felt like the nightmare hadn't ended; it had just shifted into reality.

Lena lifted her gaze from the plate and looked at Edwin across the table. He looked up, catching her gaze. Lena quickly looked down, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Under her breath, she cursed herself for the awkward moment.

Why am I so embarrassed, though?

Lena cleared her throat and asked, "Why are you joining us?"

Edwin's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "I'm a shadow hunter, darling."

Lena's eyes widened at the term, and she quickly shifted her gaze back to her plate, trying to hide her surprise. But as she looked away, Jarin's eyes got fixed on Edwin,with a sharp intensity. He didn't miss how Edwin's use of "darling" had flustered Lena, and a flicker of jealousy crossed his face. He placed the bread in his hand back on the plate with a gentle thud

Jarin's voice was controlled but edged with tension as he spoke. "So, what exactly are we up against?"

Edwin's gaze remained steady, though he briefly glanced at Lena's flushed cheeks. "The shadows are relentless and cunning. They feed on fear and darkness. My job is to stay vigilant and uncover what they seek before they find it."

Roderick leaned forward, his expression serious. "What happens if you fail in your job and they get what they want?"

Edwin's gaze hardened slightly, but he maintained his calm demeanor. "If the shadows succeed in their search, the consequences could be dire. They thrive on darkness and despair, and if they find what they're looking for, it could unleash chaos and suffering."

Lena felt a chill at the thought, her grip tightening on her cup. She glanced at Jarin, whose jealousy seemed to momentarily fade in the face of the looming danger.

"Then we need to make sure that doesn't happen," Jarin said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Lena's voice trembled slightly as she asked, "I still don't understand. What exactly are they seeking? How are we involved? And why do you need to join us, shadow hunter or not?"

Edwin met her gaze with a somber expression. "The shadows are searching for something that can amplify their power, something hidden and dangerous. It's not entirely clear what it is.

Edwin's expression softened as he looked at Lena. "You don't need to worry about all the details right now. What you need to focus on is staying safe and getting away from them. I'm here to help with that."

Edwin raised an eyebrow at Lena. "Your friends mentioned you were going to Drakemoor. I wonder why."

Lena, with a touch of sass, replied, "Well, you don't need to worry about such details. Just focus on getting us safely out of here."

Edwin chuckled, clearly amused. "You really are something, Lena."

Lena felt a mix of frustration and confusion as she stood up and walked out of the cottage. Edwin's words and the way he looked at her had stirred something she wasn't used to.

 Jarin stood as well, his expression hardening as he addressed Edwin. "Yeah, something you should stay away from." He then followed Lena outside, leaving Edwin with a thoughtful expression.

As Jarin followed Lena out of the cottage, Roderick watched him leave with irritation. When Jarin was out of earshot, Roderick scoffed quietly, muttering under his breath, "What a dog."

As Lena stepped outside, her thoughts swirled with frustration and confusion. Who does he think he is, some kind of hero? she wondered, rolling her eyes. Well, he does look like he walked straight out of a romance novel.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Think straight, Lena. Don't trust him. It's only been a few hours since you've known him. The irritation boiled over as she muttered under her breath, "That silver-haired bastard."