The road grew more familiar with every step. They passed the same weathered milestones, the bend where the stream crossed beneath the path, and the mossy rock Josh had nearly tripped over that morning. The forest around them was quieter now, no rustling shapes darting between the trees, no foul stench of goblin dens. The air even felt cleaner, touched with pine and the faint scent of rain-soaked earth. The tension that had haunted every step before seemed to ease with each mile. Here, closer to Ashenfall, the land felt lighter, alive again.

  Josh slowed, glancing back at the shadowed treeline behind them. It seemed almost peaceful in the fading light, but he knew better. He clenched his fist around his sword hilt and made a silent vow: he wouldn’t let the goblins anywhere near this place. It was slowly starting to feel like home.

  By the time they reached Ashenfall, the sun was a red coin on the horizon, casting long shadows over the cobbled road. The town’s wooden gates stood open, and the guards offered weary but welcoming nods as the party passed through. The contrast hit them immediately, gone were the grim totems dangling from trees, replaced by bright pennants fluttering above market stalls. The air was thick with the scents of spiced bread, roasting meat, and woodsmoke instead of blood and damp moss.

  Laughter carried down the lanes. Children darted through the streets, chasing one another between carts and alleys where once the group had feared ambushes. Merchants called out their evening bargains, and a bard’s lute drifted faintly from the tavern square.

  Josh breathed deeply, the weight on his shoulders easing for the first time in days. This was what they were fighting for, the light, the laughter, the fragile peace of ordinary life.

  Perberos gave a low whistle. “Hard to believe this morning we were knee-deep in goblin filth.”

  Carcan nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Feels like a different world.”

  Bheldur chuckled. “It is. We survived the first one.”

  Josh looked at them, his friends, each bearing the signs of battle, mud-smeared, bloodstained, tired but standing tall. “Then let’s make sure this place stays safe,” he said quietly.

  The road into Ashenfall wound between rows of timber-framed houses, their windows glowing gold in the dusk. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, the air rich with the scent of stew and baking bread. After the suffocating wilds of the forest, every sound and smell here felt grounding, real.

  Vendors were packing away their stalls for the night, muttering cheerful goodbyes to one another as they covered their goods with tarps. A woman sweeping her doorstep looked up and offered the party a polite nod, her expression curious but kind. Children darted past them, laughing as they chased a hoop down the lane, and one small boy stopped to stare wide-eyed at Bheldur before being whisked away by his mother.

  The further they went, the louder the hum of evening life became. The clang of a blacksmith’s hammer echoed from a side street. The chatter of tavern-goers spilled from the open door of The Broken Tankard, mingled with the scent of ale and roasting meat. A minstrel played somewhere nearby, his tune soft and lilting beneath the noise of the town.

  Josh found himself smiling without realizing it. The fatigue of the day pressed against his shoulders, but here, among these simple, ordinary sounds, he felt the weight ease. Every step reminded him why they fought, why it mattered to keep this place safe.

  They turned down a broader avenue, where the cobbles grew smoother and the lamps brighter. The guild hall came into view at the far end of the street, an imposing structure of stone and oak, its tall windows glowing with lamplight.

  The chatter of voices carried through the open doorway: adventurers returning from their own hunts, laughing, arguing, or boasting over drinks. The warm light spilling out across the cobblestones was a welcome sight after the gloom of the forest.

  Perberos slowed as they approached. “Feels good to be back,” he said quietly.

  “Too right,” Bheldur replied. “And I wouldn’t say no to a pint,” before looking at Josh, “and you my friend, need a bath.”

  Josh gave a tired laugh, glancing down at himself. His tunic was streaked with dried mud and flecks of goblin blood, his boots caked nearly to the laces. “A warm bath sounds like the best quest reward I’ve ever heard of,” he said, shaking his head. “Though I think the water’s going to surrender before I’m clean.”

  Brett smirked. “You’ll scare the innkeeper if you walk in like that. They’ll think some swamp creature’s wandered in from the marshes.”

  Carcan wrinkled her nose, teasingly waving a hand in front of her face. “He’s not wrong. You smell like you wrestled one too.”

  Perberos gave a rare, small grin. “If he did, the swamp creature probably lost.”

  Josh raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, point taken. I do need to get some new clothes as well. But unfortunately you’re going to have to suffer my manly odour for a bit longer. I deserve a drink.”

  Bheldur chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now that’s the right order of priorities.”

  The group laughed together as they continued down the road, the weight of the forest beginning to slip away, replaced by the warmth of familiarity and the promise of rest.

  The heavy oak doors of the guild hall creaked open as Josh pushed them in, the warm light spilling over the group as they stepped inside. The familiar scent of spiced ale, oil, and old wood wrapped around them like a blanket. Yet, the place felt strangely subdued compared to the usual bustle.

  Most of the long tables were half-empty. A handful of adventurers sat scattered about, their gear piled at their feet, soft voices murmuring over bowls of stew or mugs of beer. The usual clamour of laughter and shouted boasts was gone, replaced by the quieter sounds of spoons scraping bowls and the crackle of the hearth.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Josh’s eyes swept the room automatically, noting familiar faces. Near the fireplace sat two remaining groups from their training class. Each group was missing a few of their members. The absences weighed in the air, though no one spoke of it.

  “They’re not back yet,” Carcan murmured, her gaze flicking toward the empty chairs.

  “No,” Bheldur said quietly. “Most of the higher-level parties are still out near the undead cave. Looks like it was a tougher nut than some of the groups thought.”

  They moved further in, the floorboards creaking beneath their boots. The guild’s notice boards, usually plastered with new postings, were still half-empty, the older parchments curling at the corners. Mich stood alone behind the front counter, looked up from her ledger, her quill pausing mid-scratch. Recognition lit her face, and she offered a polite smile tinged with fatigue.

  “Back already?” she asked, brushing an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “The more…” searching for a gentler term, “experienced teams are still out dealing with the undead. How did your task go?”

  Josh gave a tired grin. “We came across something… big. We’ll need to report it.”

  Mich’s brow lifted slightly. “Big?”

  Bheldur stepped forward, resting a gauntleted hand on the counter. “A dungeon,” he said. “Orc’s and Goblins swarming everywhere. South-east, maybe an hour past the Splitfang Stone. The mana density inside it appears to have overflowed and caused a serious dungeon break.”

  That caught her attention. She set her quill down, the tiredness gone from her expression. “A dungeon out that far in the forest? That explains a lot.”

  “Tell me about it,” Brett muttered.

  The clerk nodded quickly. “I’ll fetch the senior registrar. Wait here.” She hurried off toward the side room behind the counter, her boots clicking briskly against the floor.

  The group drifted toward a nearby table, the warmth of the hearth spilling across the worn wood. Perberos dropped into a chair with a groan of relief. Carcan leaned her staff against the table’s edge, while Josh unbuckled his shield and let it rest at his side. The party was quickly served drinks of their choice, Bhel and Josh clinking their ale tankards together, letting out a satisfied sigh each after downing the honey coloured drink.

  For the first time all day, there was a sense of real safety. Outside, the wind whispered through the streets of Ashenfall, but in here the world was calm.

  Josh looked around at the other young adventurers, the tired faces and empty chairs. The quiet reminded him how fragile that calm truly was.

  Josh let out a breath, taking one last glance out of the window, toward the distant woods, now just a dark smudge on the horizon. “We did good today,” he said. “Now let’s make sure everyone knows what’s waiting out there.”

  The guild hall’s heavy oak side door opened again, letting in a faint chill from the evening air. Heads turned as Mich strode in, her usual calm replaced by a look of focused urgency. Her ash-blonde hair was tied back in a loose braid. At her side walked Rochelle, the older elf who oversaw most of Ashenfall’s guild operations. Rochelle’s sharp green eyes swept the room like a blade, taking in every detail with quiet authority.

  Behind them came Ronald, still in his light leather armour, and Caistina, her mage robes faintly glowing with runes that dimmed as she crossed the threshold.

  “Josh, Brett, Carcan, Perberos, Bheldur,” Mich called, her voice clear but edged with tension. “Up front, please. Rochelle wants to hear this herself.”

  The group exchanged quick glances before rising from their table, fatigue melting away under the weight of her tone. The warmth of their return vanished as they approached the guild’s long oak counter, where Rochelle leaned forward with her arms crossed.

  “Mich says you found something in the Eastern woods,” Rochelle began. Her voice was calm but carried the weariness of someone who already suspected the worst. “Tell me everything. Slowly, and in order.”

  Josh nodded and began. He described the trail of goblins, the crude totems, the traps scattered through the forest. Then came the camps, the first one filled with organised goblins, with basic structures, and then the later defensive camp with dozens of goblins, several orcs, the shaman, and finally the glowing cave mouth that pulsed with sickly purple light, that was spitting goblins out every few minutes.

  Perberos added what he’d seen with his identification skill, the numbers, the levels, the specific monster classes. The rest of the party adding in smaller details, such as the feeling of overwhelming mana coming from the portal, the totems scattered around the infested area, and the twisted ground, how the land itself seemed tainted by the dungeon’s corruption.

  By the time they finished, the hall had gone silent, eavesdroppers making the other parties aware of the conversation. Even the few low-ranked adventurers nearby had stopped their chatter, listening with wide eyes.

  Rochelle exhaled, the faintest tremor breaking her composure. “A dungeon forming this close to Ashenfall is bad enough,” she said quietly. “But one producing creatures at that rate… that’s a critical mana surge. If it breaches containment, the forest will be crawling anytime soon, and might even threaten the town.”

  Ronald folded his arms. “And most of our veterans are still out clearing the undead nest. We’ve got maybe a half a dozen green parties here, two above level five.” He scowled, looking at the party “Apparently that includes our hero party here”.

  Caistina frowned. “We could send word for reinforcements, but it would take days. That portal could be overflowing before help arrives.”

  A heavy silence fell over the group. The tension in the air was almost tangible. Fear and doubt vibrated around the room.

  Then Brett spoke. “What if we don’t wait?”

  Rochelle’s eyes flicked to him. “Explain.”

  He glanced at Josh, then at the others. “If we form a raid group from whoever’s left in town, the three training parties, any stragglers, even some of the watch or retired adventurers, we might not be able to clear the dungeon yet, but we can hold it back. Kill whatever comes through until we’re strong enough to push in.”

  Josh nodded firmly. “We’ve seen the terrain. We know their numbers. If we move now, we can keep them from spreading, kill what's outside, and set up a defensive structure maybe? Maybe if we level up enough we could even go inside the dungeon and try and sort the mana out. Erm. By the way, how do we do that?”

  Rochelle looked at him “That will be explained IF there comes a time to do it. For now, let me think about this.”

  Perberos added quietly, “We’d be buying time. For the town. For everyone.”

  Rochelle looked between them, conflict clear in her eyes. She turned to Caistina. “What do you think?”

  The elven mage met her gaze without hesitation. “They’re ready,” she said simply. “If anyone can hold that line until the others return, it’s them. And I’ll be going with them,” she said firmly.

  Ronald sighed, his expression grim but resolute. “Then we gather every able fighter before dawn.”

  The decision settled over the hall like the toll of a distant bell.

  Josh looked around at his companions, mud-streaked, exhausted, yet unshaken. “Then we do it,” he said quietly. “For Ashenfall.”

  Carcan smiled faintly. “And for the guild.”

  Bheldur hefted his axe, the edge catching the firelight. “Aye. Let’s show those creatures what real adventurers look like.”

  The others nodded, the spark of determination catching in each of them. The guild hall, moments ago heavy with worry, now thrummed with a sense of purpose. By dawn, Ashenfall would be ready, and the fight for their home would begin.

  Each follow adds 1 gold coin to my Motivation Pouch.

  When it’s full, I trade it in for another chapter.

  Economy works out great, trust me, I’ve done the math.