EPISODE 8 — The Weight of an Unchosen Destiny
The clouds above Rivercrest hung low, bruised with the colors of a storm that hadn't yet decided if it wanted to fall. The air felt heavy, like the sky itself was holding its breath. And Aurin could feel it—deep in his bones—the slow, shifting pull of something ancient awakening.
He sat on the old wooden bridge at the edge of town, feet dangling over the flowing water, watching the ripples break against the stones. This place used to silence his thoughts. Today, it only made them louder.
He replayed the scene from the forest again and again. The shadow. The voice that didn't belong to anything mortal.
His own name echoing inside the darkness like it had been waiting centuries to be spoken.
Aurin wasn't sure if he was more afraid… or curious.
A twig snapped behind him.
He didn't turn. "You followed me again," he muttered.
A soft chuckle answered. "Your energy is loud today. I could hear it from the marketplace," Seris said, her boots tapping lightly on the wood as she stepped beside him.
Aurin glanced at her. "My energy? You talk like an old sage trapped in a teenager's body."
Seris shrugged. "I'm just saying what I feel. Something is shifting in you. And it started after that shadow attacked us."
Aurin's breath caught. He hadn't told anyone—not even her—that the shadow spoke to him. That it seemed to know him.
He looked back at the river instead.
"How do you even deal with it?" he asked quietly. "Knowing you're tied to something cosmic? Something ancient?"
Seris watched the water with him, her expression unreadable. "I don't deal with it. I survive it. And I pretend I'm not terrified half the time."
Her honesty surprised him.
"Aurin," she said softly, "you need to tell me what happened when you froze. That thing wasn't normal. And you… you reacted like you recognized it."
A wind swept across the bridge, lifting Seris's hair and chilling Aurin's skin.
He finally whispered, "It spoke to me."
Seris stiffened. "What did it say?"
"It said… 'my vessel awakens.'"
Silence fell between them, thick and heavy.
"Aurin," she said slowly, "that phrase is used only in ancient celestial texts. About gods choosing hosts." She swallowed. "Which god?"
"I don't know," Aurin said. "I don't want to know."
"But it already knows you."
The words hit him like a punch.
A flash of movement reflected in the water below them—dark, swift, wrong.
Aurin sat up straight. "Did you see that?"
Seris nodded, her hand already reaching for the charm on her belt. "It's watching us again."
The water beneath the bridge churned.
A cold mist spiraled upward, forming long tendrils that pulled themselves together into a shape—a figure, faceless, shifting like liquid shadow.
Seris stepped in front of Aurin instinctively.
The shadow hissed, a sound like cracking frozen glass.
A whisper followed—a whisper only Aurin could hear.
"The Rift stirs. The Gates tremble.
You will answer, Vessel of the Forbidden Dawn."
Aurin's heartbeat stumbled.
Forbidden Dawn? What god was that? Why him?
Seris raised her charm, but the shadow's form vanished instantly, dissolving back into the river like it had never been there at all.
Aurin stood frozen.
Seris grabbed his wrist. "We need to go. Right now."
He didn't move. "Seris… why me?"
She didn't answer right away. Her voice trembled when she finally spoke.
"Because some destinies don't wait to be chosen. They choose you."
A distant thunder rumbled across the sky.
And Aurin had the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning.