A Starlit Promise

Desperate Measures

Before she could second guess herself, Rylla forced her feet out the door. Each step toward the village, made her feel like she was wading through a sea of lead. The chaos that had erupted outside her home was now a relentless storm. The once peaceful village of Elderglen was ablaze, smoke billowing into the sky and cries of distress cutting through the night. Fear gnawed at her insides, but she pushed it aside, remembering her purpose. Her role as a healer was to help, to mend what was broken, and she clung to that purpose like a lifeline. As she reached the outskirts of the village, she was met with devastation far beyond what she could've imagined. Houses were burning, the streets were littered with debris, and the wounded - people she once knew - were sprawled across the ground. Some moaned in pain, some screamed so loud it made bile creep up her throat, while others lay utterly still. She couldn't tell the level of devastation yet, but it had to be grand.

Rylla's hands trembled as she moved among the fallen, her mind racing to assess who needed help the most. She used her healing skills and laughable amount of magic as best she could, applying bandages, administering herbs, and offering what comfort she had. But the score of destruction was overwhelming. For every wound she tended, two more seemed to appear, and the cries for help became a relentless symphony of despair. Amid the chaos, she spotted a group of villagers huddled together, their faces pale and eyes wide with fear. After pouring the remainder of her magic into the young woman who lay on the ground in front of her, she hurried over to help the group, but as she reached them, a burst of fire from a nearby burning house sent a wave of heat and embers in her direction. The impact of the explosion sent her body to the ground, heat singing her skin, leaving her gasping for air and disoriented.

As she struggled to get to her feet, the ground beneath her seemed to tremble. Or was that her legs? Her vision blurred, and the roar of the fire grew more wild. She had this vague sense that the smoke around her grew thicker, even as her senses became overwhelmed. Just as the building next to her completely collapsed, her legs gave way, and everything went dark.

When Rylla regained consciousness, she found herself lying on her side, the smoke and fire still swirling around her, her senses distant and muffled. The acrid smell of burning wood and the crackling of flames were distant echoes in her ears. Her vision was a chaotic blend of flickering flames and figures obscured by smoke, the light and dark dancing together in a disorienting display. Her head spun as she tried to sit up, but the effort made her world tilt even further. She could barely make out the silhouettes of collapsing structures and the shadows of panicked figures attempting to flee the scene. The ground felt uneven beneath her, a mix of debris and charred earth.

In the midst of the thick, swirling smoke, a figure emerged. Not a figure, a man? He was cloaked in darkness, his form merging seamlessly with the shadows that wove through the fire-lit haze. His presence was almost spectral, moving with a fluid grace that seemed to defy the pure chaos around him. The shifting light and darkness obscured his features, rending him almost formless. Not that she could make out what he looked like either way. Had she hit her head when she fell?

The only thing she could see, however, were his eyes - unmistakably glowing with an eerie intensity. They pierced through the smoke and the tumult with a focused and unsettling gaze, right on her. It was as if they held a light of their own, an unnatural luminescence that cut through with unreal precision. He moved toward Rylla with an effortless stride, the silhouette of his person melding with the surrounding darkness as if he commanded it. His hand, outstretched and shimmering with an almost ethereal quality, reached for her. The shadows seemed to cling to his fingers, swirling around them in a mesmerizing dance.

In a moment of clarity, Rylla tried to push herself back from the Shadowman in front of her, even if it was a futile attempt. He laughed - outright laughed at her attempt to scoot herself to supposed safety before closing his cold grip firmly around her arm. She felt as if the shadows themselves were wrapping around her as he lifted her into his arms, and she could feel herself coming to the edge of unconsciousness once again.

"You're coming with me, Rylla," He said in a voice that was both commanding and soothing, cutting through the noise of the inferno with an urgent tone.

She knew she couldn't refuse even if she wanted to, and her body was still far too weak from earlier. She could barely will her eyes to stay open, much less fight off the absolute mountain of a man in front of her. Despite this, his presence, though unsettling, was oddly grounding in the midst of the chaos. With her head still spinning and her body weakened, Rylla felt a strange mixture of dread, fear, and relief. The man's grip was unyielding and steady, guiding her away from the immediate danger. As he carried her through the haze of destruction, the world seemed to blur and shift around them, the firefight casting erratic movement that played tricks on her vision.

Her strength was waning, but she took note of her surroundings as best she could. With one final, disoriented gaze at the burning village, Rylla was carried deeper into the forest's darkness, the fire's glow fading behind her as the Shadowman led her into the unknown.