That morning, the sky was overcast, and a thick mist clung to the hillsides. Karl opened his eyes, sensing the cold seeping through his cloak. He sat up, his gaze heavier than usual — as if the dream from last night had carved something into his mind.
Molvar was still asleep, sprawled near the dying campfire, occasionally snoring with odd sounds. Sir Cedric had been up for a while, studying the map under the faint, hesitant morning light.
"It's time," Karl murmured to himself.
Sir Cedric turned. "Today we pass the last stretch of the forest and reach the slope of Ashen Hill. But stay sharp. If last night was just a warning… today could be the beginning of the real trial."
Karl nodded. "I'm ready."
Molvar jolted upright, clutching his stomach. "Well, I'm not! No one told me this would be a survival march. Can I at least get some breakfast first?"
Sir Cedric chuckled softly. "There's still some dry bread in my pouch, Molvar. Next time, don't expect a royal feast where monsters roam."
Molvar grabbed the bread, chewing while grumbling, "Just hope we don't run into that wolf-headed priest freak again."
Karl stood, eyes fixed on the distant hill veiled in mist. Beneath its ashen soil and cold crust, he knew a secret was waiting to be unearthed.
Molvar trudged along, rubbing his back, clearly in pain. "My back… gods, that river crossing last night broke every bone in me. Next time, I'm sleeping on the damn boat, monsters or not."
Sir Cedric chuckled from ahead. "Be thankful the monsters didn't gnaw off your rear, Molvar. That would've been a real tragedy."
"Oh, hilarious, Sir Cedric! Truly!" Molvar groaned. "And don't forget I was the one patrolling camp while our dear Karl here was dreaming about mysterious priestesses. Meanwhile, I became a walking mosquito banquet."
Karl gave a faint laugh, his voice calm. "Maybe if you bathed more, the mosquitoes would stay away."
Molvar raised his eyebrows and burst out laughing. "That's the harshest thing I've ever heard from a thousand-year-old immortal. I'll etch that on my tombstone when I get eaten by some oversized wolf."
Sir Cedric pointed ahead, his tone suddenly serious. "Enough banter. Beyond this point is where the real dangers begin. Stay sharp."
The mood shifted. Beneath their feet, the ground turned to charred black gravel, scattered with standing pillars of ash like gravestones. The landscape had changed — and all three felt it: they were nearing the heart of a secret buried for centuries.
Molvar paused for a moment, glancing at Karl, who had begun to slow his pace. There was a strange focus in Karl's eyes, as if he were tracking something invisible hidden in the thick haze of ash.
"Hey… Karl? You looking for something?" Molvar asked, suspicious.
Karl didn't answer right away. His eyes scanned the blackened spires and scorched ground, almost as if he could feel a distant heartbeat pulsing from beneath the earth. At last, he said quietly, "Just… a feeling."
Molvar raised an eyebrow. "With you, those feelings usually come with trouble. Just saying."
Karl turned to Sir Cedric and spoke firmly, "Let me see the map."
Without hesitation, Cedric pulled the folded parchment from his coat and handed it over. Karl opened it wide, his eyes moving swiftly across the ancient markings before his finger stopped at a spot near the hill's center — a blank, unmarked patch of terrain.
"We need to go to the heart of this hill," Karl said. "Something's waiting there. I don't know what yet… but I need to see it for myself."
Molvar raised an eyebrow, catching the unusual seriousness in Karl's gaze. Never missing a chance to tease, he smirked and said:
"Oh? Someone seems very determined to reach the center of the Ashen Hill. Looks like our Karl is turning into a real adventurer."
Karl didn't deny it. Instead, he offered a quiet smile, his expression calm yet tinged with an elusive excitement — as though something awaited him in that shadowed heart of the hill, something long buried and calling out.
"Trust me," Karl said softly, "it's going to be… interesting when I get there."
Molvar whistled low, shaking his head as he trailed behind. "If that turns out to be the fun kind of interesting, I'll shave my head bald…"
As the morning sun climbed higher, casting pale beams through the sparse canopy, the trio finally reached the base of the Ashen Hill. Before them lay a somber rise, its surface dusted with fine gray soot. Scattered remnants of charred trees and lifeless stones stood like echoes of a bygone era.
Sir Cedric halted, pulling out an old leather map. He nodded quietly to himself.
"We've arrived. But the Ashen Hill is quite vast. Climbing now wouldn't be wise," he said, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "We'll need a place to rest first."
Molvar let out a relieved breath. "Finally, some sweet words from our dear knight."
Sir Cedric chuckled before adding, "Luckily, I know of a small tribe living nearby — the Galdir. They're reclusive, but not hostile. If we negotiate well, they might offer us shelter."
Karl nodded. "Then let's not waste any time. The sooner we reach them, the better."
As the morning sun climbed higher, casting pale beams through the sparse canopy, the trio finally reached the base of the Ashen Hill. Before them lay a somber rise, its surface dusted with fine gray soot. Scattered remnants of charred trees and lifeless stones stood like echoes of a bygone era.
Sir Cedric halted, pulling out an old leather map. He nodded quietly to himself.
"We've arrived. But the Ashen Hill is quite vast. Climbing now wouldn't be wise," he said, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "We'll need a place to rest first."
Molvar let out a relieved breath. "Finally, some sweet words from our dear knight."
Sir Cedric chuckled before adding, "Luckily, I know of a small tribe living nearby — the Galdir. They're reclusive, but not hostile. If we negotiate well, they might offer us shelter."
Karl nodded. "Then let's not waste any time. The sooner we reach them, the better."
As twilight descended, the group followed a dust-laden trail curling behind the hill. Dim torchlights flickered in the misty air ahead — signs of human presence. Sir Cedric raised a hand, signaling them to slow down.
"There it is. The Galdir tribe," he whispered.
Soon, they stood before a crude wooden gate made of charred logs. A stout man clad in beast-hide robes stepped out from the shadows, gripping a long spear. His eyes were sharp, scanning each of them without a word.
Karl stepped forward and bowed slightly. "We seek shelter for the night. We bring no harm."
The man studied them for a few more seconds before giving a slow nod. "Follow me."
As they entered the village, curious eyes watched silently from the darkness of the huts. The wind on the hill howled softly, carrying the scent of ash and warm smoke. Their shadows stretched behind them — long and silent, like memories waiting to be remembered.