BALLAD OF THE ORC PALADIN

The Whispering Dark

Kaito gasped for air as the creature's final scream faded into the night. His heart still pounded from the near-death experience, his mind reeling from the strange light he had seen within himself. The others gathered around, equally shaken but seasoned enough not to let fear overwhelm them. Grushak wiped dark blood from the blade of his axe, his face twisted in frustration, while Sylvara retrieved her arrows with a frown.

"That wasn't a normal beast," Borin muttered, glancing at the blackened spot on the ground where the creature had dissolved. "It moved like it wasn't from this world."

"No, it wasn't," Sylvara confirmed, her voice tight. "It's the old magic—the kind we've only heard about in stories. Darker than anything we've faced before."

Kaito remained quiet, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. The warmth inside him, the glow on his dagger—it had felt like something more than luck. Could it have been the beginnings of the divine blessing he was seeking? But why now? And why him? He wasn't trained, wasn't experienced in this world's magic.

Grushak broke the silence. "Whatever that thing was, it won't be the last we face in Valkra. The warlords have stirred something deep in the ground. The old powers are waking up."

The orc's words sent a chill through Kaito. Old powers. Was this what the Guild leader had warned him about? The ancient magic that was rising, the dark force from the forsaken lands? If these creatures were just the beginning, the path to the temple would be more dangerous than he had ever imagined.

"Rest while you can," Grushak growled. "We move at dawn."

That night, as the campfire crackled and the group took turns on watch, Kaito lay awake, staring up at the dark sky. The stars were obscured by the swirling clouds that hung over Valkra, casting the land in an eerie, otherworldly glow. Sleep eluded him, his mind constantly drawn back to the moment when the light had flared from his dagger. It had felt so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

He clenched the dagger in his hand now, feeling its weight, as though it might offer some clue. The blade was simple, unremarkable, and yet in that crucial moment, it had become something more. The gods, the blessings, the divine favour he sought—they had to be real. That light couldn't have been a coincidence.

But before Kaito could dwell on the thought any longer, a soft sound broke through his reverie. It was a whisper—a faint, almost imperceptible voice that seemed to come from all directions. He sat up, looking around, but the camp was silent. Grushak was on watch, sitting by the fire, his eyes alert and scanning the darkness beyond.

Kaito's brow furrowed. He had heard it, hadn't he?

The whisper came again, stronger this time, like a breath of wind across his ear. The words were unintelligible, but the tone carried a strange weight. It wasn't a voice from any living creature. It was... something else.

Kaito stood, careful not to disturb the others, and moved toward the edge of the camp, away from the fire's light. The whisper persisted, urging him forward, though he couldn't explain why. His feet carried him through the rocky terrain, his eyes scanning the shadows cast by the moonlight. The wind picked up, carrying with it the distant sound of creaking trees and rustling leaves, but there was no life in this place. Valkra's wilderness was silent, save for the whisper.

Come.

Kaito froze. The word was clear now, unmistakable. It reverberated through his mind, compelling him to continue. He stepped forward, his pulse quickening as the path ahead seemed to darken even more. But he couldn't stop. Something was pulling him in, something beyond his control.

As he rounded a large boulder, the landscape opened up into a small clearing, and at its centre stood a structure. It wasn't large, barely more than a shrine, but it was ancient, its stone walls cracked and weathered by time. Vines and moss clung to its surface, and the faint glow of old runes pulsed along the edges of the stone, giving off an eerie, dim light.

The whispering grew louder as he approached, the air around him thick with a presence he couldn't define. The shrine felt alive in a way that was unsettling, as if it had been waiting for him, calling him to this place. He hesitated at the entrance, his instincts screaming for him to turn back. But the whisper wouldn't stop.

Come closer.

With a deep breath, Kaito stepped inside.

The air inside the shrine was colder than the outside, and the shadows seemed to press in around him, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead. The runes on the walls pulsed faintly, casting the chamber in a soft, ghostly glow. At the centre of the room, an altar stood, worn and cracked, but with a dark object resting upon it.

Kaito's heart raced as he approached the altar, his eyes fixed on the object. It was a shard—small, jagged, and pulsing with the same dark energy that had surrounded the creature they had fought earlier. But this was more concentrated, more intense. The moment his gaze fell on it, the whispering stopped, replaced by a silence so profound that Kaito could feel the weight of it pressing on his chest.

Take it.

The command was clear, but Kaito hesitated. Everything in him screamed that this was wrong, that the shard was dangerous, cursed even. But at the same time, he felt drawn to it, as though it held the answers he sought. His hand inched closer, trembling slightly as it neared the shard. The air seemed to pulse with energy, and his vision blurred for a moment, his mind filled with images of battles, fire, and shadows rising across the land.

But just as his fingers brushed the shard, a hand gripped his arm with brutal force, yanking him back.

"What are you doing?" Sylvara's voice cut through the silence like a knife, her grip tight as she pulled him away from the altar. Her eyes were wide with anger and something else—fear. "You're messing with something you don't understand."

Kaito's breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled back, the trance-like pull of the shard broken. His mind swirled with confusion and the lingering echoes of the whisper.

Sylvara didn't let go of his arm, her face set in a grim scowl. "This place is dangerous. We shouldn't have come this close to it."

"What was that thing?" Kaito asked, his voice barely above a whisper, still reeling from the intensity of the moment.

"It's a remnant," Sylvara explained, her voice harsh. "A shard of the old magic that once ruled these lands. It's what's corrupting Valkra, and it's why we're seeing more of those creatures. Dark forces are trying to harness it, and if you had touched it..." She trailed off, her eyes narrowing. "You might not have come back from it."

Kaito felt a cold sweat break out on his brow. "I didn't mean to—I just felt something... pulling me."

"That's the nature of dark magic," Sylvara said, her voice softening slightly. "It tempts. It whispers. But if you give in to it, you lose yourself."

She released his arm and turned back toward the entrance. "Come on. We need to get back to the others before they notice we're gone."

As they made their way back to the camp, Kaito's thoughts were racing. The shard, the whispers, the pull of the dark magic—it was all connected to the rising danger in Valkra. And somewhere out there, someone was trying to harness that power.

Kaito shivered, his hand tightening around the hilt of his dagger. He couldn't let that happen. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was already entangled in something far larger than himself, something that went beyond his quest for the temple's blessing.

As they returned to camp, Grushak looked up, his eyes narrowing as he took in their expressions. "Everything alright?"

Sylvara nodded curtly, but Kaito remained silent, his mind still replaying the encounter with the shard.

The darkness was growing. And Kaito was beginning to realise that his journey was no longer just about proving himself as a paladin.

It was about stopping whatever was coming for them all.