The sky was the color of iron and ash, heavy with the weight of a storm that hadn’t broken. Beneath it, the port city of Aelthorn sprawled along the rocky coastline like a wounded beast, its narrow streets winding through ancient buildings, all hemmed in by the sea on one side and the mountains on the other. This was a place where old gods still lingered in the whispers of the waves and in the creak of the timbered houses, though few dared speak of them now.
Eryk pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders, the damp chill of the sea air seeping into his bones. He’d traveled a long way from the western reaches, crossing lands far greener and warmer than this forsaken edge of the world. But there were promises here, rumors of silver and trade, of something that might put him back on his feet. And he needed to get back on his feet—needed it like a man needs breath, for there was something behind him, something that stalked his dreams as surely as it would track him down in the waking world.
He moved through the crowded wharf, his boots slick against the damp stones. Fishermen hauled in the day’s catch, their faces etched with weariness, while dockhands loaded crates onto ships bound for lands he’d only heard of in tales. This was a city on the brink, he could feel it in the air—the tension, the waiting. And he was part of it now, as much as the salt and the smoke.
“Eryk, was it?” A voice as rough as the sea itself cut through his thoughts.
He turned, meeting the gaze of a man whose face seemed carved from stone, pocked with scars and sun-darkened to leather. The man wore the insignia of the Northward Trading Company—a red hawk clutching a coin in its talons.
“Aye,” Eryk replied, his voice low. He didn’t trust himself to say much more. Too many questions had followed him to this place, and he knew better than to give answers freely.
The man grunted, looking him up and down. “You don’t look like much. But you’ve a reputation. They say you were one of the last to hold the gates at Solfrey.”
Eryk’s jaw tightened at the mention of Solfrey. That was a name he tried to forget, a place scorched into his memory like a brand. But there was no use denying it; he’d been there, seen the horrors that walked in human skin, watched friends die under skies as red as blood. He’d walked away from it all, carrying scars that ran deeper than flesh.
“Aye, I was there.” The words felt like stones on his tongue.
“Good. We don’t need much, just a man who knows his way with a sword and can keep his mouth shut.” The man reached into his coat and pulled out a thin strip of parchment, rolling it between calloused fingers. “There’s a ship leaving for the Isles tomorrow. I can put you on it, if you’ve the stomach for it. The Isles are… hungry these days. The Company has work for those who can handle themselves.”
The Isles. He’d heard tales of them, of the black cliffs that rose like teeth from the sea, of storms that could sink a ship in minutes. And of things that walked there, things the priests wouldn’t name. But the Isles had silver, and the Northward Company had gold.
“I’ll do it,” he said, his voice steady, though inside, a part of him recoiled. The Isles were a place you went to escape the past, or to lose yourself in it. And Eryk wasn’t sure which he was doing.
The man nodded, a flicker of approval in his eyes. “You’ll do, then. Be at the wharf at dawn. Don’t bring anything you’re not willing to lose.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving Eryk alone once more in the shifting shadows of Aelthorn. The promise of work hung before him like a lifeline, but he could feel the weight of something darker coiled around it. The Isles were not a place of mercy, and whatever awaited him there was as much a part of him as the ghosts he carried from Solfrey.
As he turned toward the docks, the sea roared, a distant thunder that rolled across the darkening sky. The people of Aelthorn went about their business, unaware of the storm that was coming, not just from the clouds above, but from a man carrying scars from a battle long past.
For Eryk, this journey was more than just survival. It was a reckoning with the shadows that followed him, a confrontation with a fate he could not escape.
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