Blaine Bridger's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Blaine Bridger walked into town with a fiery little pug trotting at his heel. He looked like any other young man running errands, but his pockets held coiled wire, dried meat, and a folded map. Every step pushed him closer to the badlands, where his best friend was being held by a warlord he barely knew anything about. He felt the eyes before he saw them. High above the square, a tall wooden tower with narrow slits caught the afternoon light. A shadow shifted behind one of those slits. The scout had found him. Blaine kept his pace easy. He bent down, scratched the pug's flickering ears, and laughed like a man with no troubles. Then he ducked sideways into a stone pub strung with softly glowing runes. The door thudded shut behind him, cutting the scout's line of sight clean. Inside, the air smelled of smoke and old beer. A shimmering pendant hung above the bar, shaped like a bird with spread wings. The keeper watched Blaine a long moment, then unhooked the pendant and slid it across the wood. "You'll need this more than me," she said. Heat pulsed against Blaine's palm as he closed his fingers around it. When Blaine stepped back out, the pug glowed brighter at his side, and the pendant lay hidden beneath his shirt. The scout's tower stood empty now. Blaine had slipped the watch, gained something stronger than a blade, and pointed himself toward the badlands at last.