It was quiet out here. Not the kind of silence that felt empty—the kind that listened back. The moment Ere stepped beyond the village wall, he began moving. He did not have much time to lose. If he followed the path he had mapped out in his head, this should be the shortest route.
The trees rose around him almost immediately. Massive trunks, older than anything in the village, stretched upward until their branches disappeared into the darkness above. Their crowns wove together so tightly that even the moonlight struggled to slip through, leaving only pale streaks of silver across the forest floor.
This was his first real look at what lay beyond their home.
The air smelled different here—damp soil, leaves carrying the faint scent of rain, even though the sky had been clear. Somewhere above, branches shifted softly in the wind. Somewhere deeper in, something moved. A rustle. Then silence again.
This forest was not merely the source of the animals they hunted. It was their home. And not theirs alone. Monsters lurked here too. Creatures that preferred shadow over light. Things the hunters spoke of in lowered voices.
Ere kept his body low and his steps careful. No sudden movements. No unnecessary noise. As long as he kept a small profile… as long as he moved like part of the dark itself… he should be safe.
He had been walking for what felt like five long hours. Maybe more. Time was harder to measure out here. But he could tell from the moon. It had shifted lower now, drifting toward the horizon, its pale light filtering through the branches at a different angle than when he had first left the village.
His steps had remained steady. Measured. But his small feet could only carry him so fast. The distance was beginning to make itself known. A dull ache had settled into his calves. His breathing had grown heavier.
Still… he had not encountered anything dangerous.
No glowing eyes between the trees, no sudden movement in the brush. That should have been reassuring. Instead, it made the forest feel even stranger. Too quiet.
As he moved forward, the red light became clearer. And the closer he got, the less it felt like a light. It felt like a presence. A weight hung in the air. An aura. As though the night itself had gathered around that distant crimson glow.
The trees began to thin, and the ground beneath his feet shifted from soft earth and roots to something harder—broken stone. Then he felt it.
He stopped.
The air had changed. There was something surrounding the place, invisible—a barrier. Not a wall, more like a layer where the world itself felt wrong. The wind that had followed him through the forest suddenly stopped at its edge. The leaves no longer moved. The air inside seemed still.
Too still. As if this place had been sealed away from the rest of the world. He hesitated for a moment. Then he lifted his eyes. And saw it.
The village—or what remained of it.
Every structure reduced to ruin. Stone walls broken apart and scattered across the ground in countless fragments. Collapsed roofs. Shattered pillars. Charred remains half-swallowed by moss and time.
What had once been homes now looked like wounds carved into the earth. There was no life, no sound—only silence. A silence so complete it almost felt sacred.
What happened here?
The moment Ere stepped through the barrier, everything stopped. The forest vanished. The damp earth beneath his feet, the towering trees, the distant cries of night creatures—all of it disappeared as though he had stepped out of the world itself. For a moment, he thought he had gone blind.
Then the fog began to settle around him. It stretched endlessly in every direction, a pale silver mist swallowing the horizon until there was no ground, no sky, no sense of distance.
Just white.
Endless white.
It felt less like a place and more like a space between places—as if he had stepped into a memory, or another world entirely.
Ere stood still, his breath visible in the cold air, when a voice reached him.
A young woman's voice reached him, coming from everywhere at once. "Seeker of knowledge… What is your name?" The words hung in the mist.
He answered. "Ere."
For a brief moment, silence returned. Then the voice spoke again. "What is it that you seek?"
The answer left his lips before he had the chance to think. "I seek knowledge of what has been, what is being, and what will be."
The moment he said it, he frowned. That answer had not been prepared. It had not been thought through. It had come from somewhere deeper, as if the voice inside him had spoken first.
The voice softened. "I can only help with what has been. The rest lies in your hands."
Then the mist before him shifted. Shapes began to emerge. Not fully formed figures, but silhouettes moving through memory. A village. Stone structures. Broad doorways. Low roofs built to endure.
And among them— dwarves.
For the first time, Ere truly saw them.
They were not tiny creatures as the old tales suggested. They stood shorter than humans, yes, and far shorter than elves, but not by much. Their bodies simply stopped growing at a certain age. Where a human child would continue to gain height, a dwarf's frame settled early—compact, solid, perfectly proportioned.
From there, their growth changed.
Their shoulders broadened with age. Their muscles thickened into dense, powerful frames. Their faces matured with sharp intelligence rather than time-worn age. Strong jaws. Heavy brows. Eyes bright with thought.
Even the youngest among them carried the presence of seasoned adults. They were not eternal like elves. But they aged with remarkable grace. Bodies built for strength. Minds sharpened by years.
The voice continued. "More than one hundred years ago, a group of dwarves ventured east through the forest. They were not warriors. They were scholars. Researchers. The brightest among their people."
The image shifted.
Ere saw them now—laughing as they walked beneath the trees, carrying books, tools, and weapons not for war but for study. Their purpose was clear.
"To understand how dwarven strength could be adapted for the other races, so that all might stand against the Chaos King. They built this place as a research settlement—not a fortress, but a sanctuary of knowledge."
The village brightened, revealing work tables filled with blades, books, and strange metal devices.
"They discovered through research an extraordinary detail."
The voice slowed.
"A technique. One that did not rely solely on size, weight, or brute force."
Ere listened carefully.
"They wrote it into an unfinished book—the Book of Shadow Steps."
His eyes narrowed slightly at the name.
"They sought a weapon any person could wield. Fast. Accessible. Deadly."
A pause.
"So they chose the dagger."
The fog shifted again, revealing movement. Dwarves training. Fast steps. Light footwork. Fluid strikes. Unlike the heavy swings he had seen from hunters. The dagger itself.
Quick. Sharp. Precise.
"It was small."
"Light."
"Perfect for agility."
"But its weakness was clear."
"The wielder remained exposed."
"So they created a technique."
"One that enhanced movement, endurance, and body control."
A style meant to make the body itself a weapon.
Ere's chest tightened. This was exactly what he had been seeking. Then the mist darkened. The atmosphere changed. Cold and heavy.
"One hundred years ago…"
"Before they could share their findings…"
"the village was attacked."
The vision shattered into chaos.
A monstrous shape emerged in the distance.
Huge its skin blackened like iron scales. Weapons bounced harmlessly from its body.
The dwarves fought.
And one by one… they fell.
"The creature had been amplified by demon forces."
"No ordinary weapon could pierce its flesh."
"They were unprepared."
"No one survived."
Silence.
Then Ere spoke.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I can't be the first one to come here."
The voice answered immediately.
"No."
"But you are the first to seek knowledge."
"Others came for treasure."
"For adventure."
"For glory."
"You came for understanding."
That answer settled heavily inside him.
Then the mist gathered.
A clearer shape formed.
A woman.
Only slightly taller than him now, yet carrying a presence far greater than her size, she stood with quiet strength. Her hair was long, braided with silver rings. Her shoulders were broad, her posture proud, her eyes bright and calm. This had to be her.
"Before the last dwarf died…" The voice now came from her. "My name… Dasteni Hillhorn."
Her lips barely moved. "I could not allow our work to be lost. So I gave what remained of me—my soul—to guard these pages. To wait. To judge."
Ere looked at her. "So it was you. The crimson light. All this time… you were calling out."
She nodded gently.
Ere looked away for a moment. "Dasteni… I am not a hero. I'm not even sure I am a good person. If this knowledge becomes mine… I don't know what I'll become. On top of that, I am still a young boy."
For the first time, a smile touched her face. "We do not seek good. We do not seek evil. We seek one who can end conflict. I can't shake that feeling looking at your eyes… it's not only carrying the weight of what was lost, but what will be. I wish you find what you truly seek, Ere."
Those were her final words.
Her form began to dissolve into the fog, light scattering from her silhouette like glowing ash carried by the wind. For a moment, she looked peaceful, as if one hundred years of waiting had finally come to an end.
Then she was gone.
Where she had stood, a small box remained—dark, worn, glowing faintly with crimson light—the pages she had protected for a century.
Waiting. For him.