Kapitel 9: Whispers in the Dark

Heavy was the air, as the group continued their journey into the dense forest. The path was narrow, flanked by towering trees whose branches intertwined above, casting long shadows even in the midday light. Every step felt heavier, as though the forest itself resisted their presence.

Elara walked at the center of the group, her mind racing with questions. The mark on her palm tingled faintly, as if sensing her unease. She had grown accustomed to its presence, but its cryptic nature still unnerved her. What was this power inside her, and why had it chosen her?

Ahead of her, Seris moved with practiced ease, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. Korrin lagged behind, his usual swagger subdued by the weight of the journey. Malric walked silently, his imposing figure a steady anchor amidst the chaos.

"Why do I feel like we're walking into a trap?" Elara finally broke the silence, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice, laced with genuine concern.

"Because we probably are," Korrin said, a smirk playing on his lips. "But isn't that part of the adventure?"

Seris shot him a warning glance. "We're not here for adventure. We're here to prepare. Focus."

Elara sighed, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Prepare for what? You've been training me, yes, but for what purpose? What are we really up against?"

Seris hesitated, turning toward Elara. "The mark on your hand isn't just a source of power. It's a beacon. Others will feel it-some who seek to control it, and others who want to destroy it. Our job is to make sure you live long enough to make your own choice about what to do with it."

"Comforting," Elara muttered, rubbing her temples.

"She's not wrong," Malric said, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "You carry something ancient, something dangerous. And the world doesn't take kindly to things it doesn't understand."

Elara clenched her fists, frustration boiling over. "I never asked for this. I never wanted any of this!"

"None of us did," Seris said softly, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. "But here we are. The question isn't what you want, Elara. It's what you're willing to do with what you've been given."

The conversation hung heavily over the group as they pressed on. The forest seemed to grow darker, the trees closer, their branches clawing at the sky. The sound of rustling leaves and the cries of animals hanging in the distance made Elara's nerves gnaw uneasily.

They came to a stop in a small clearing, midday sun hardly fighting its way through the canopy above. Elara took a seat on a fallen log, her eyes glazed over as if sorting through her mind. Korrin passed her a piece of dried fruit, his face a lot more serious than usual.

"You know," he said, seating himself beside her, "you remind me a bit of how I was when I got first dragged into all this."

Elara raised an eyebrow. "You had a glowing mark on your hand too?"

Korrin laughed, a deep, warm sound that momentarily eased the tension. "Not exactly. But I was young, scared, and convinced the world was out to get me. Turns out, I wasn't entirely wrong."

Elara managed a faint smile. "How did you deal with it?"

"One step at a time," Korrin said. "And a lot of stubbornness."

Their conversation was cut short as a sharp, cracking noise-a twig snapping in the underbrush-knifed its way out of the trees. Everybody froze, their hands instinctively going to their weapons. Seris quickly motioned them silent, narrowing her eyes while scanning the treeline.

It was oppressively silent and nerve-jangling; then, without any forewarning, a figure appeared from behind the screen in shadow: tall, hooded, man attired in dark robes, the lines of his face shrouded by dark material, yet it felt like the air ripple moved with unnatural energy about his form.

"Well, well," he said sweetly with malevolent undertones in each syllable, "the Chosen One and her merry band of saviors. How-quaint."

Elara's heart pounded in her chest as she stepped back instinctively. The mark on her palm burned, flared to life as if sensing danger. Seris stepped forward, her blade drawn and gleaming in the dim light.

"Who are you?" Seris demanded, her voice cold and steady.

The man chuckled, a low, unsettling sound. "A seeker of truths. And I believe the girl holds something I require."

"Over my dead body," Korrin snarled, drawing his own weapon.

The hooded man tilted his head to one side, weighing up the challenge. "That can be arranged."

Before anyone could react, the man raised his hand, and a surge of dark energy shot toward them. Seris deflected it with her blade-the force of the impact sent her stumbling backward. Korrin lunged forward, but the man was faster, sidestepping and countering with a swift strike of his own.

Elara was frozen, rooted to the spot in fear as chaos erupted around her. The mark on her hand blazed brighter, searing with heat. She felt the power surging within her, wild and untamed, begging for release.

"Elara!" Seris shouted, blocking another attack. "Focus! Use your power!"

Elara closed her eyes, forcing herself to breathe. She reached for the energy, letting it flow through her. Wild, yes, but not impossible to guide. She opened her eyes and her hand shone with gold light.

"Enough!" she shouted, her voice carrying a weight of command that surprised her.

The power burst forth, a wave of light illuminating the entire clearing. The hooded man stumbled, his dark energy dissipating under the force of her attack. He growled, his calm demeanor shattered.

"This isn't over," he hissed before vanishing into the shadows.

Elara collapsed to her knees, her body trembling from the effort. Seris rushed to her side, her expression a mix of concern and pride.

"You did well," Seris said, helping her to her feet. "But this was just the beginning."

Elara nodded, her resolve hardening. She didn't know who the hooded man was or why he wanted her power, but one thing was clear-she wasn't going to let that power fall into the wrong hands.