The night was oppressive, the air thick with an unseen tension. As the candles flickered out with a single breath, Sam felt as though he were extinguishing more than just the flames. The weight of his dreams pressed down on him, a cold, unrelenting presence that seemed to seep into every corner of his being. The Monarch’s Revival pulsed faintly, an almost mocking reminder of the burden he carried.

  Outside, the sounds of the village faded into a quiet hum as the festivities wound down. Yet, Sam remained in his room, wide-eyed and restless. The visions from his dreams were vivid tonight, playing like fragments of a memory just out of reach. Destruction. Despair. The shadowed figure with glowing eyes. His mind churned, seeking meaning, but found only more questions.

  A sudden creak of wood startled him. Sam shot up, his senses on high alert. The sound was faint but unmistakable—the floorboards outside his room shifting under weight.

  He strained to hear, holding his breath. Silence. Then, the soft scrape of fabric against the doorframe, and the knob turned slowly. The door creaked open, and a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway. Sam’s chest tightened as his mind leaped to the figure from his dreams. Was it here? Had it come for him?

  But then the figure spoke, the voice familiar. “Sam?”

  “Isonorai,” Sam exhaled, relief washing over him as she stepped into the dim moonlight filtering through his window. “You scared me.”

  She crossed the room, her movements uncharacteristically cautious. Her sharp eyes scanned his face, as if searching for answers to questions she hadn’t yet asked. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, her voice low. “I felt... something. Like the air was too heavy. I thought you might be awake.”

  Sam nodded, sitting up fully in his bed. “I’ve been thinking about the dreams,” he said. “They’re worse now. It feels like... something’s getting closer.”

  Isonorai’s face darkened. “The Monarch’s Revival?”

  He nodded again, his voice trembling. “It’s like it knows something’s coming. I feel it too, but I don’t know what to do about it.”

  She sat beside him, her presence steadying. “You don’t have to figure it out alone,” she said. “Lareth is here now. He’ll help us. And I’ll be by your side, no matter what.”

  Her words offered comfort, but the unease in Sam’s chest remained. He wanted to believe her, to trust that someone else could shoulder this burden. But the darkness in his dreams felt personal, like it was calling to him and him alone.

  “Thanks,” he murmured. “But I have a feeling this is something I’ll have to face myself eventually.”

  Isonorai didn’t argue. Instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm and reassuring. “When that time comes, I’ll be ready to back you up. For now, try to rest.”

  The next day dawned with a dense fog that blanketed the village, muting the world in shades of gray. Sam woke to the sound of hurried voices downstairs. Dressed quickly, he descended the stairs to find his parents speaking in hushed tones with Lareth. The sorcerer’s face was unusually grim, his dark eyes fixed on the table before him, where a scroll lay unfurled.

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  “Sam,” Lareth greeted without looking up, sensing the boy’s presence. “We’ve had troubling news.”

  “What happened?” Sam asked, a chill creeping down his spine.

  His father exchanged a glance with Claire, then nodded at Lareth to continue. “There are reports from the traders who passed through this morning. In the northern forests, the trees have withered overnight—massive, ancient ones reduced to husks. The animals have fled, and the air there feels... unnatural.”

  Sam’s stomach twisted. “The darkness,” he whispered. “It’s spreading.”

  Lareth nodded gravely. “It seems the phenomenon aligns with the visions you described. This is no coincidence, Sam. The force from your dreams is real, and it’s moving.”

  A heavy silence fell over the room. Sam felt the Monarch’s Revival stir within him, a restless energy that made his skin crawl. It was as if the power itself was urging him to act, to confront whatever was happening in the north.

  “What do we do?” Sam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “We prepare,” Lareth said firmly. “This darkness is unlike anything we’ve faced. It could be tied to the Monarch’s Revival or something even older. I’ll consult my texts and reach out to old allies. But we must remain vigilant. If it moves closer, we’ll need to act quickly.”

  The rest of the day passed in a haze of preparation. Lareth spent hours poring over ancient scrolls and books, his frown deepening with each page he turned. Isonorai trained with the village guards, her movements sharp and precise as she honed her skills. Sam tried to focus on his own training, but his mind kept drifting back to the northern forests and the shadowed figure from his dreams.

  As evening fell, the fog outside thickened, turning the village into an island surrounded by an impenetrable sea of gray. Sam stood by the window, staring out into the mist, his thoughts a whirl of fear and determination.

  “It’s coming,” he muttered to himself. “I can feel it.”

  He didn’t know when or how, but he knew the darkness would reach them eventually. And when it did, he would be ready—or so he hoped.

  That night, the fog grew colder, heavier, as though the village itself was being swallowed by an unseen force. Sam woke suddenly, his heart pounding as a strange noise reached his ears. It was faint, like a whisper carried on the wind, but it sent a shiver through him.

  He crept to the window, peering into the mist. At first, he saw nothing but swirling gray. Then, a flicker of movement—a shadow shifting just beyond the edge of the village.

  “Isonorai,” he whispered urgently, grabbing his coat and heading for her room. He found her already awake, her blade in hand.

  “You felt it too?” she asked, her voice tense.

  Sam nodded. “Something’s out there.”

  Together, they moved quietly through the house, careful not to wake his parents. When they stepped outside, the chill bit into their skin, and the air was unnaturally still. The mist seemed alive, twisting and curling around them like a predator stalking its prey.

  They reached the edge of the village, where the faint outline of the forest loomed through the fog. The air was thick with an oppressive energy, and Sam felt the Monarch’s Revival react, its pulse quickening in response to the unseen threat.

  “Stay close,” Isonorai whispered, her blade glinting faintly in the pale light.

  They moved cautiously into the mist, their senses on high alert. Every sound, every shift in the shadows, set their nerves on edge. The darkness from Sam’s dreams felt closer than ever, a presence that seemed to watch their every move.

  Suddenly, a low growl echoed through the fog, sending a jolt of fear through them. Sam tightened his grip on his weapon, his heart racing as the sound grew louder.

  And then, the shadows moved.