I awoke in my cozy little room at the Sleeping Boar. I’d had a surprisingly restful slumber, however, I still hadn’t heard from Selene and the others.

  I decided to make my way to the guild hall. With or without a party, I was still an adventurer now.

  After grabbing some bread and butter from the tavern below and eating it quickly, I took to the streets, heading straight to the guild.

  It was an overcast day, quite the opposite of the beautiful weather that had permeated my journey thus far. Thick clouds hung overhead like elemental giants, oppressive, and foreboding.

  The old town of Lanton which housed the inn I’d been staying at was quiet as well, nothing like the lively and bustling atmosphere from the day before.

  I continued on my way, creeping through the sleepy streets. Cracked cobbled roads ran underfoot, stretching off into various alleys and roadways. A few merchants could be seen moving, like shadows, within their shops or carts, but barely any seemed to be open for business.

  Perhaps the arcanists and seers of Lanton had predicted a storm today… I kept even my thoughts quiet as I carried on.

  Pushing through the massive oak doors and stepping into the guild hall, I half expected it to still be bustling inside despite the quietness of the city, but it was equally as quiet, almost deserted in fact.

  The soft clack of my boots echoed louder than it should’ve as I approached the desk, the empty guild giving off a strange, hollow warmth.

  “Ah, Yukon was it?” The guild receptionist woman said, tilting her head back to look at me through her glasses.

  I nodded as I walked over, “That's me.”

  “I’d hoped to see you today. I have some information for you.”

  “Uh, right. What is it?”

  She rummaged around beneath the desk for a moment and pulled out an envelope and a small talisman of some sort, pushing them towards me.

  “You’ll be happy to hear that after some deliberation the guild has decided to award you with Iron rank straight away. A particular half-orc put in a good word for you and changed the mind of your procter, who had you set to start at stone.” She said curtly.

  “If you are unfamiliar with the adventurer ranking system, it is as follows; Stone, Iron, Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Platinum. In that order. Your rank helps the guild to know which quests you should be capable of completing, and up to what level quests we authorize registered parties to accept.” She explained.

  I was thankful, I barely knew anything about the ranking system.

  “Thank you. It’s an honor-” I said, as I reached out to accept my Iron rank identifier.

  It was a twisted piece of iron that looked like a jousting spear atop a shield with a leather strap dangling from the top of it.

  I looked next to the letter.

  “Ah, and that was left by another adventurer for you.” She said, noticing my inquisitive expression.

  “Is that so?” I said, as I took the letter. "Oh, also… where is everyone today? Even the streets seem deserted…”

  “Hm? You don’t know?” She responded, raising an eyebrow.

  “There was an emergency quest issued early this morning. These storm clouds are indeed as unnatural as they appear, Lantons top arcanists and the guild’s own mages have identified the source to be coming from somewhere within the Everdale woods just to the west of Lanton. As if the source of the issue wasn’t enough, storm elementals keep appearing from the thick clouds, harassing whatever buildings and citizens they see. Adventurers are working with the city guard to keep the elementals at bay while another team of adventurers search for the shaman responsible for this.”

  “I see… thank you—” I said, quickly gathering myself and turning to leave.

  “Yukon—!” she called.

  I turned.

  “I would urge you to sit this one out.” She said with a genuine look of worry etched onto her face. “The difficulty rating for this quest is around a high bronze level… There is not much you can do on your own—However, if you simply must. Head over to West Lanton and you’ll find the adventurers and city guards combatting the elementals. Be sure to stick with a group, this is too dangerous for a lone iron rank.”

  I nodded in thanks and swiftly turned to leave.

  I would head to West Lanton.

  Upon exiting the guild hall I looked upwards, the sky seemed to be even darker than before. Thick clouds hung heavy like a blanket over the city. I quickly put my iron rank identifier on my belt and was about to put the letter in my bag, but as I went to stow it a brief image of Selene, Bront, and Lyria flashed through my mind.

  Could this have been from them?

  I glanced at the letter again, bound with a blue wax seal but aside from that no other indication of the sender.

  Maybe it was a delay. Maybe they wanted to talk in person.

  I broke the blue wax seal and unfolded the parchment, heart pounding.

  [Dear Yukon,

  Thank you for your inquiry. Unfortunately we were unable to come to a unanimous

  agreement regarding your addition to our party.

  Best of luck to you!

  -Selene Crestshaw]

  My chest tightened as I read the contents. The disappointment hit harder than I expected. Though I shouldn’t be surprised, I’d acted like a fool after that trial match, it’s no wonder they wouldn’t just take my words at face value.

  I stuffed the letter in my pocket, adjusted my bow, and carried on my way to West Lanton. Intent on doing some good in what was supposed to be my grand adventuring debut.

  As I hurriedly walked through the winding cobbled streets of the city, I felt a dull chill begin to emanate from the wolf mark on my chest. I gripped my cape a bit tighter and quickened my pace, passing closed shops and shuttered windows as I drew closer.

  * * *

  It took me about 20 minutes to make my way over to the Western district of Lanton.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  The closer I got to the Western wall, the more chaotic things became.

  Rain fell like a steady stream. Soot smeared the soaked cobbles. A nearby stall had been smashed to pieces—a fruit cart, judging by the squashed pulp bleeding into the gutters. Scorch marks stained the brick of the nearest building. I ducked instinctively as a stray arc of lightning cracked through the gray air, striking the metal frame of a lamp post and splintering it with a pop.

  I wasn’t alone anymore.

  City guards in soaked cloaks were shouting orders over the thunder. Adventurers, many I hadn’t seen before, sprinted through the streets, weapons drawn, faces grim. Some wore bronze insignias, and a few bore silver. All of them looked too busy to notice me.

  I stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. No one gave me orders. No one called out for help. I wasn’t part of any party. I was just… there.

  A nearby wall of the city groaned under pressure as a storm elemental smashed into it with a blast of wind. Guards retaliated with lightning wards and rune-etched javelins, the air crackling with magic and fury. I took a step forward—then stopped.

  What could I possibly do against something like that?

  I found myself shrinking back, slipping to the side of a collapsed cart for cover. The wind howled down a nearby alley like it was alive.

  "You alright, kid?"

  A gruff voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see a bearded adventurer kneeling beside a wounded man, his bronze rank talisman swinging around his neck. Blood stained his sleeve.

  “You lost?”

  I shook my head. “No. Just… trying to help.”

  “Then stay outta the way. Unless you’ve got lightning wards or a death wish.”

  He turned back to his comrade, shouting for a cleric.

  I clenched my jaw and stepped away, my boots splashing through shallow puddles as I moved along the edge of the battlefield.

  No one needed me here.

  But someone had to stop the source. Someone had to go where the storm was being born.

  I turned toward the western gate.

  A pair of guards were ushering people back inside the walls, trying to keep anyone from heading out. One of them noticed my approach.

  “You Iron?” he asked, eyeing the talisman on my belt.

  I nodded.

  “Then get back inside. Orders are to keep anyone under Bronze away from the Everdale woods—too dangerous out there.”

  “...I can make a difference. I can help stop it at the source!” I said, trying to convince myself as much as them.

  The guards exchanged a glance. One of them scoffed.

  “Unless you’re a storm mage, a battlemaster, or a fool, you’ve got no business in those woods.”

  I didn’t answer.

  Instead, I waited until they were distracted with more falling debris and other adventurers, and hastily walked toward the open gate.

  A gust of wind nearly knocked me off my feet as I passed under the archway. Beyond, the woods loomed—dark, alive, humming with unnatural energy. The storm seemed thicker here. The clouds churned like boiling ink, and faint flashes of blue lightning danced across the treetops.

  I reached the treeline and paused.

  The wolf mark burned colder now, like it was urging me forward—or warning me back.

  This was reckless.

  This was foolish.

  But it was the only way forward.

  And I wasn’t turning back.

  I stepped into the Everdale woods.

  * * *

  I kept my pace brisk as I pushed deeper into the trees.

  Despite my nerves, being back in the woods felt somehow reassuring. It reminded me of the time I’d spent training with my father, hunting together, tracking animals, and learning the ways of the land. The forest was my home, and I had returned.

  My footsteps padded into the wet mud, sinking ever so slightly as I picked my way along a narrow forest trail. The trees bent unnaturally in the wind, a gale echoed ominously like howls through the twisting timber.

  Amidst all this, the mark on my chest was freezing.

  I paused, steadying my breath like I had during countless hunts. Ears straining, I listened past the wind-whipped leaves.

  I waited.

  Carried on the wind like a faint whisper, I finally heard it. The sounds of battle.

  As I planted my first step, starting in the direction of the sound, something stopped me.

  A voice.

  “Yukon…” Came the call, not outloud, but from within my mind. It was the white wolf.

  I hesitated, gripping my chest as the mark began to burn even colder.

  My breath caught.

  The wind picked up.

  I clenched my eyes, picturing the white wolf standing before me…

  I felt the freezing sensation in my chest begin to subside, and I opened my eyes slowly.

  Standing before me was the white wolf, its spectral form shimmering in the wind, its icy blue eyes gazing through me as if seeing my very spirit.

  I nodded to it slowly.

  It lowered its head in silent agreement, and together we took off running towards the sounds of battle.

  As the white wolf and I bounded through the forest, pushing through dense brush and whipping branches, a strange sensation overcame me.

  I felt alive.

  A small smile tugged at my lips as I glanced at the white wolf running alongside me, navigating through the trees with effortless, almost otherworldly grace. It even seemed to correct my path a few times.

  In almost no time at all we reached a wide clearing, the two of us pausing just within the treeline.

  Ahead, what appeared to be a desperate battle raged on.

  There were at least two or three parties engaged in brutal combat with a mixture of storm and earth elementals.

  I strained my eyes to see more but the lack of light, the distance, and the chaos made it nigh impossible to make out any finer details. I needed to locate the shaman. The source of this disaster.

  I felt a comforting cool sensation wash over my body which had been heating up from the exertion.

  I blinked.

  When I opened my eyes again, my vision was different.

  Sharper, clearer, more finely attuned than I had ever known it to be—It was as if I had the eyes of a wolf…

  I glanced over. The white wolf simply stared back at me, but in its eyes I could almost imagine a smirk.

  I smiled and looked again to the battlefield, and finally I was able to see it.

  Deep within the clearing, atop a small hill, and surrounded in a bastion of earth and storm elementals, was the shaman. Runes and totems glowed at its feet, the shaman itself was massive, perhaps 7 feet tall from what I could see and covered in dark flowing robes, obscuring its identity.

  Next, I trained my eyes on the adventurers desperately scrambling around the clearing. There were at least 3 distinct groups, all working together in their individual parties to fight off the frenzied elementals.

  One trio immediately stood out to me. It was Selene, Bront, and Lyria.

  The three of them fought like the storm itself. Selene barked orders and moved like the wind, berating the encroaching elementals with blinding speed.

  Bront lumbered forward, the air itself giving way before his massive frame. When his tower shield slammed into the ground the earth itself buckled. His battle roar made even the thunder sound muted.

  Lyria, holding her position in Bront’s wake, weaved spell after spell. Her silver hair whipped and whirled around her face, her lavender eyes sparkled as she unleashed a torrent of elemental magic, drowning out even the lightning with her brilliant fire.

  Lost in their performance, a low growl from the white wolf beside me snapped me back to reality.

  A storm and earth elemental had merged together on the other side of the battlefield. Lightning crackled across its stone limbs like veins of fire. Its body pulsed with both weight and fury, a living mountain wrapped in a hurricane. Its towering form flickered against the bending trees as it set its sights on Selene’s already nearly overwhelmed party.

  Frantically scanning the battlefield, I realized one of the three adventuring parties had vanished, and the other party was pushing in closer to the shaman at this very moment. No one was coming to help them…

  No one…

  I stepped from the treeline, stringing my first arrow, setting my jaw and steeling my resolve. the white wolf, massive and shimmering beside me, growled low. Its fangs bared in defiance.

  We would turn the tides of this battle no matter what. We had to.