The morning breeze blew softly along the banks of the Emberfall River, bringing the damp smell of moss and the iron blood of the newly collapsed headwaters. Ren Eldrean sat hunched over a broad rock, the tips of his shoes barely touching the surface of the glistening, opaque water. His breath was ragged—each heave called back memories of last night's earthquake, the green pillar that tore the sky, Brutus' body falling with him into the dark cavity… and the giant earthen hand that at the last second vomited itself into the riverbank, as if the earth regretted swallowing the gravedigger's son.
Remnants of cracked mud still clung to his cheeks, his hair was dry and white with mineral dust. An old shovel lay beside him, its handle deeply engraved with runes—some lines glowing faintly red, as if a fire knife had been embedded halfway into the wood. Ren watched, waiting for another tremor, but the river only splashed peacefully, deceiving the world with a false calm.
The sound of twigs snapping in the undergrowth made him look up. The footsteps were light, almost timid, but not animal tracks—too regular. Ren reached for the shovel without turning.
"If you're always so alert every time I come near, we'll never get to talk," said a soft voice behind him.
Ren turned. Elena Brightwater stood there—her white linen dress now splattered with dirt and dried blood, her golden-blond hair (who knows when the sun's rays reflected gold on its strands) tied low with a worn ribbon. Her eyes—deep river blue—gazed at Ren with exhaustion, but the determination in them outshone her pale face.
The girl stepped down onto the rocks, her skirt flowing in the dew. "I searched for you all night," she said softly. "No one knows where you went when the crack closed. We thought you were… trapped with… Brutus."
Ren lowered his head, holding back the throbbing pain in his ribs. He could still feel Brutus's attack, his screams pleading with him not to take the risk, and then it was gone—swallowed up by the green void. Ren couldn't yet tell.
Elena sat cross-legged in front of Ren, an inch from the shovel. She stared at the iron blade, fascination and fear mingling on her face.
"I saw it," she whispered. "When the crack opened, the blade of your shovel glowed red. Like a giant heart." She bit her lip. "It was… scary, but it also—stopped the green light from spreading the fault."
Ren traced his thumb along the edge of the shovel. "I don't understand what happened," he admitted honestly. "All I know is that every time an earthquake comes, it's like this thing breathes. And when that thing comes, this shovel—" He paused, hesitating to mention the fact that the shovel refused to let go, as if demanding its own blood.
Elena waited, but when Ren didn't continue, she pulled her knees up and hugged them. The river reflected the morning light on her pale skin. "Last night—something happened to me, too," she said, almost whispering, as if the story itself could summon a new disaster.
Ren turned, brow furrowed. "Are you hurt?"
"Not physically," she said, closing her eyes briefly. "I fell asleep in the village hall because I was too tired to take care of the injured. Half the night, I woke up—but my body couldn't move. It felt like my chest was tied. In the dream—if it was a dream—I saw the village floor open, the cracked ground swallowing everything, and the darkness… rising. Not just shadows—but something alive. Like a black sea full of teeth."
Ren shuddered. He gripped the shovel tighter. "That darkness—does it have red eyes?"
"Worse," Elena whispered. "It… seems like it has no eyes at all, but it knows where every soul is. It's like the ground itself is spying on us."
Ren focused his gaze on Elena's face. Although the morning light was soft, the shadows beneath her eyes were thick. The usually tough girl looked fragile—but not afraid; more like she was carrying a secret too big for her shoulders.
"I feel," Elena continued, "that darkness waiting for someone to open the door. And last night—you almost opened it, didn't you? The crack called out to you."
Ren didn't deny it. He took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs. "I hear my father's voice," he said softly. "Over and over again. Dig deeper, my son. It's as if he's imprisoned down there, or part of—whatever."
Elena stared at him, the golden light of the morning lambs glinting off her irises. "Perhaps your shovel is the key. And you… the doorkeeper." She reached out, tentatively touching the handle. Just as her fingertips touched the wood, red runes gleamed softly. Ren instinctively withdrew the shovel, his eyes wide.
The light went out instantly, leaving an awkward silence. Elena sucked in a breath. "I didn't mean to—"
"It's okay," Ren interrupted. He regretted startling her. "Sometimes these things—they're like irritable creatures." Brutus's dim memory lay with frozen white eyes boring into his mind. Ren shook his head vigorously.
The river hummed silently for a few seconds. The wind carried the wet scent of roots. River gulls flitted by, screaming. Down in the water, Ren saw his shadow sway—but the shape beside him seemed darker and longer, as if there was a third figure standing on the edge of the rock. He turned quickly; there was no one—just wild bushes swaying.
"Did you see that?" Ren swallowed.
Elena shook her head, but she straightened her back, straining her ears. The river should have been full of sound, but somehow the gurgling water felt suffocating. Ren squinted. The ripples on the surface formed strange circles, rising and falling as if something large was moving beneath.
"Elena," he whispered, "back away slowly."
Before Elena could move, the reeds exploded; fish jumped in panic, and from the depths, black mud bubbles broke the surface. The smell of sulfur was pungent. Ren stood, raising his shovel, the blade pointing into the murky current. Red runes flashed spontaneously, their light dancing across his skin.
The water suddenly parted, and a bony hand reached out, gripping the riverbank. Its skin was wrinkled like wet parchment, slits leaking glowing green mud. Behind it, a rotten face slowly rose—Brutus Ironhand, but not a manly man; his skin was blackened, white eyes protruding. His mouth was parted in a dead smile.
Ren froze. "Brutus?"
The creature made a gravelly sound. "Graa-l-i…" A second hand appeared, gripping the ground, breaking the stone. His body—half-destroyed, a skeleton of green-white bones—pulled itself out, dragging a mass of stinking mud.
Elena let out a muffled scream, stumbling backward. "He… should… be dead?"
Ren took a stance, shovel raised. The glow of red runes clashed with the green of Brutus's body like two poles of fire.
The creature raised its head, its iron jaws hanging. "Key… in hand… blood…" It mouthed, making the words crackle as if broken. It held out a muddy hand to Ren.
The shovel shook wildly, nearly breaking free. Ren held back, feeling his palm burn.
"Ren!" Elena pulled at the boulder, intending to throw it in desperation. But the small movement made Brutus turn his head, staring at her. His white eyes cracked, dripping dark liquid.
Suddenly the ground between them throbbed. A thin crack split the cliff, widening rapidly into a river. A miniature waterfall poured into the gap, making a giant drooling sound. Ren tried to drag Elena away, but Brutus—or whatever it was—grinned, then sank back into the water with a loud plop, leaving a black vortex spinning wildly.
The river began to recede strangely—as if the water was being sucked into the bowels of the earth. The bedrock was exposed, slick with moss. At the center of the vortex, a spiral of green light appeared, glowing brighter than it had the night before. The wind evaporated; the world seemed to be pulled downward.
Elena took Ren's arm. "Do you feel it? It's like a dream—darkness rising from below."
Ren nodded, his jaw clenched. "This time, he's using the river as a door." He glanced at the shovel; red runes were hot, glowing like live coals. The throbbing echoed in his sternum.
The water fell faster, leaving the riverbed cracked. From the cracks, black dwarfs hatched like insects—shadow creatures knee-high, their hands clawed, eyes without orbs just black holes emitting green mist.
Dozens. Dozens. They crawled out, shrieking shrilly like glass scratched by iron.
Elena stared. "What are those—"
"Dark children," Ren muttered—not sure where the word came from; maybe the whisper of a shovel. He stepped forward, placing himself between Elena and the swarm of creatures. The shovel vibrated in agreement.
The creatures circled them, giving them space; waiting for an invisible signal.
Ren gathered his breath. Carefully calculating: strength to slash, limited space on slippery rocks, Elena must be saved. He turned to the girl, their eyes meeting.
"If there is an opening," he said softly, "run."
Elena grabbed his leg, refusing. "You won't survive on your own."
Ren didn't have time to reply. One of the creatures shrieked and jumped, starting the charge. Ren swung the shovel, the blade gleaming, cutting through the air. Green blood—or whatever—spurted, steaming before falling. A second creature jerked at its waist; the shovel spun, smashing into the bony head, cracking it. But the rest kept coming, closing in like a wave of poison.
Elena raised a rock, threw it. It pierced one creature, but another bit into her dress, pulling. She screamed, kicked, managed to break free, but fell to her knees. Ren pushed forward, cutting through three creatures at once. But their numbers seemed endless.
The green light at the bottom of the river screamed brighter, the cracks widening like mouths. Out of the darkness, a new, tall figure emerged—taller than Brutus, his body a block of black earth jointed with green light. On his forehead was a spiral rune carved exactly like the handle of Ren's shovel. His hand held a green, smoking stone sword.
The giant creature planted both feet on the dried-up riverbed. Every step he took made the earth tremble.
Elena looked up in horror. "Ren… that's…"
Ren tightened his grip. The sound of the shovel whispered in his ear, though no sound came out: It's no longer a small hole. This is a gate.
The giant raised his stone sword, pointing it straight at Ren. The dark children moved aside, clearing the way. The air froze—as if the world held its breath for impact.
Ren refused to back down. He stood amid the smooth rocks, his shovel burning like a torch of blood.
The river trembled. The stone sword rose. Ren clenched his fists, his mind calculating a thousand possibilities—all ending in one fact: a single blow from the giant would be enough to cut him and Elena at once.
But before the creature's weapon could come down, a long horn blast cut through the forest, echoing off the cliffs. Ren and Elena turned their heads for a moment—from the direction of the village, a line of torches appeared, dozens of villagers led by Elder Thorne and Marcus, each carrying a pitchfork, an axe, and a hunter's bow.
"Burn the thing!" Elder Thorne shouted.
The first flaming arrow flew, scraping the creeping night. The second, the third—a shower of orange light collided with the green mist, creating a small explosion. The earth giant roared, the stone sword swerved—
Ren saw an opening.
He turned to Elena. "Now—run to the cliff!"
But she stared at him, colorless. "Ren—your arm—"
Ren looked down—the skin beneath his tattered clothes cracked, the red runes of the shovel crawling up his arm, burning hot, burning the pores into glowing lines.
The shovel in his hand seemed to melt into his flesh, drawing blood through the wood fibers, demanding… something.
And when Ren tried to release the handle, he couldn't. His flesh fused—the shovel became a foreign bone.
Marcus shouted from afar, "What are you doing, Eldrean? Kill the thing!"
Ren groaned, half in pain, half in terror. Before everyone's eyes, the shovel began to change shape, stretching—its blade absorbing green light, its handle pulsing red. The sound of cracking metal swallowed the air.
Elena grabbed his shoulder, sobbing, "Ren!"
But as Ren looked into her eyes, he felt himself being pulled in two directions: one by a vague love that had yet to sprout, the other by an ancient power that thirsted for souls.
The shovel shone blindingly, forming tongues of red and green flames. In the distance, an earth giant slashed at the arrow, then moved forward.
Ren stifled a scream: "Go away, Elena! I—"
But his words were cut short as the shovel swallowed all the light, making a screeching dark red explosion; the world collapsed in a flash, swallowing the sound of trumpets, the screams of the townspeople, and the gurgling of water—all turned into an evil silence.
And in that silence, Elena watched Ren disappear, drawn into a red-green vortex that folded like a shadow door—without a chance to reach for her hand.