Evening settled over the village like a soft blanket, dimming the world into warm orange and muted shadows. After a long day of training, Alan and Edward walked side by side down the dusty path that led back home. Their clothes were stained with dirt, their arms sore, but neither complained.
Edward stretched his back dramatically as they approached the small wooden gate that marked the entrance of the village.
"Ahh… my bones are dying," he grumbled.
"You don't have the bones of an old man," Alan said quietly.
"Feels like I do," Edward replied, pretending to limp.
Alan shook his head. Edward always had a way of pulling a smile from him even when he didn't intend to.
A small girl stood at the edge of the path, her eyes fixed on Alan with a strange, almost fragile glimmer, something like hope or longing he couldn't quite name. When their gazes met, she darted back behind the trees as if caught in mischief or fear.
Alan blinked twice, momentarily confused.
The warmth of the village lights grew stronger as they moved deeper in, passing a group of villagers gathering around the well.
Some looked up.
Some whispered.
Some stared a moment too long.
"Cursed boy…" one of them murmured.
Edward stopped walking for half a second, jaw tightening, but he forced a smile and kept going.
Alan didn't react.
Or rather- he didn't know how to react.
He simply tucked his hands into his cloak and continued walking.
The villagers' voices remained behind them, fading into the evening.
"Don't mind them," Edward said after a moment. "They talk a lot, but they don't do much."
They walked the rest of the way without speaking, letting the quiet settle between them. When they finally reached Edward's house, the lantern hanging by the door flickered in the breeze, casting warm light across the wooden porch.
Edward pushed open the door.
"Home sweet… chaotic home," he said.
Alan stepped inside. The air was filled with the smell of stew and herbs. A small fire crackled in the corner, giving the house a gentle warmth.
Meera Edward's mother turned around from the cooking pot. Meera's light was fading, day by day, like a dying star. Her hands trembled, her body grew frail, yet she moved through her chores with quiet determination, caring for Edward as if love alone could keep her alive. Every glance, every small effort, carried the weight of a life quietly slipping away.
Her eyes softened immediately.
"Oh, you boys are finally back."
Edward dropped into a chair. "Training was hard."
"You're the one who asked to swing a sword like a madman," she teased.
Alan stood at the doorway awkwardly, unsure if he was intruding.
Meera noticed.
"Alan, don't stay over there. Sit. You're family here."
Family.
A word that sounded too heavy for him.
Too distant.
But he obeyed and sat at the table. Edward kicked his foot under the table.
"See? My mother likes you more than me."
Meera finished stirring the pot and brought two bowls of steaming stew.
"You boys need strength. Eat."
Alan stared at the bowl for a moment. The warmth rising from it felt… grounding.
He lifted the spoon, took a small sip, and his chest loosened for the first time since morning.
Edward devoured his like a starving animal.
"You cook like a goddess," he told his mother.
"That's because I raised you," she said, tapping his head.
Alan simply ate quietly, listening to the soft sounds of the house. For a moment… he felt safe.
After dinner, Edward ran outside to fetch firewood. Meera stayed back, wiping down the table. Alan stood up to help.
"You don't have to do that," Meera said.
"I want to," Alan said.
She looked at him with gentle eyes.
"You're polite. Edward could learn from you."
Alan gave a tiny nod. He helped her clean in silence until the door knocked gently.
Tok, tok.
Meera looked up.
"Who could that be at this hour?"
Alan opened the door.
Standing outside was Elder Renfar.
His white beard flowed down his chest, and his eyes were usually steady and calm, which carried something else tonight. Something heavy.
"Good evening," Renfar said.
"Elder Renfar?" Meera asked, surprised. "Please, come in."
He stepped inside slowly, leaning on his wooden staff. His presence filled the small house with a quiet weight. Alan moved aside, keeping his gaze low.
Renfar surveyed the room before his eyes settled on Alan and Edward.
"I came to see Meera," he said. "But it seems I found two others as well."
Edward returned with the firewood on his shoulder.
"Oh, Elder Renfar. Didn't expect you tonight."
Renfar hummed thoughtfully.
"There are many things that come unannounced."
Edward blinked. "Is that… a warning?"
"Not quite," the elder replied. He sat down at the wooden table. "More like… a whisper before the storm."
Meera placed a hot cup of herbal tea in front of him. "Is something bothering you?"
Renfar didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied the room again, the fire, the bowls, the small traces of a normal evening.
Renfar tapped his staff, drawing attention.
Edward sat down beside Alan.
Renfar's expression shifted. His voice dropped to a low tone, one that carried far more weight than his frail-looking body.
"I need to speak to both of you about Arathen."
Alan straightened.
Edward gulped.
Meera carefully sat as well.
Renfar took a long breath, looking older by the second.
"Arathen is vast," he began. "Larger than any map you have seen. It holds wonders and horrors, mysteries, and truths too ancient to name."
Alan felt a strange chill slide across his skin.
Renfar continued.
"Long before this village was built, the world moved with a rhythm like a heartbeat. The people did not shape the world. The world shaped them."
Edward frowned. "Elder… why are you telling us this now?"
Renfar's eyes darkened.
"Because something is wrong."
The room fell quiet.
Alan felt it again, that faint pressure in his chest, as if something unseen leaned closer.
Renfar pressed his fingers together.
"For months… the winds have been colder than they should be. The animals flee deeper into the forest. The moon dims without reason."
Meera's hand tightened around her cup.
Edward swallowed. "Is it… dangerous?"
"Everything is dangerous when the balance shifts," Renfar said. "And the balance is shifting."
He looked directly at Alan.
"There is a storm approaching Arathen. One that will change everything."
Alan's breath caught.
"What does that… have to do with us?"
Renfar held the silence for a long time.
Then he spoke, voice softer, almost sorrowful.
"Because fate has already begun moving around us"
Edward blinked. "Us? Why? What did we do?"
Renfar looked down at his weathered hands.
"We are all minor characters in a grand drama called life. We play our roles without knowing where the story leads. But sometimes… sometimes, something chooses a person. Not out of kindness, not out of destiny… but out of necessity."
Alan felt something tighten in his chest.
Renfar looked at him again.
"There are paths in Arathen that should not open. Yet they will."
Alan whispered, "Why are you saying all this to us?"
Renfar closed his eyes.
"Because I sensed sorrow in the wind today. A deep one. Something old is waking."
His voice trembled.
"And I fear… the story will soon reach your doorstep."
The room was filled with the sound of the fire crackling softly.
Finally, Renfar pushed himself to his feet.
"I must leave. There is still much to prepare."
Edward stood quickly. "Elder, wait, what did you see? You look… sad."
Renfar stood at the doorway, his eyes fixed on Meera. He felt a tight ache in his chest.
"I hope I am wrong," he whispered.
And then he left the house slowly, the door closing behind him.
Meera stood frozen for a long moment before sighing heavily.
"He hasn't spoken like this in years."
Edward rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah… I saw something in his eyes. Like he knew something bad."
Meera understood what he said. For a moment, her eyes became cold as a frozen lake.
Alan didn't speak.
He couldn't.
His heartbeat was too loud in his ears.
Finally, Edward slapped his shoulders lightly.
"Hey. Don't overthink it. Maybe he's just tired. Sometimes, old people get dramatic."
Alan forced a tiny nod.
"Let's go to sleep," Meera said. "You both look exhausted."
They agreed. Edward took the small bed beside the window, and Alan slept on the mat near the fire. The house grew quiet as night deepened.
Alan drifted into sleep slowly…
And then-
He fell.
Not physically.
Not in the real world.
He fell into darkness.
A faint echo pulsed through the void.
Alan found himself standing in a wide, empty black field. No sky. No earth. Only darkness stretches forever.
In the centre of that emptiness…
A boy sat on the ground.
Small.
Fragile.
Alone.
His face wasn't clear, blurred like mist. But Alan felt something painful pull inside his chest.
The boy stared into the abyss, unmoving.
Alan stepped forward.
"Who… are you?"
The boy didn't answer.
Suddenly, the entire ground beneath them froze. A thin layer of ice spread in a circle, cracking like glass.
Alan stumbled back.
Somewhere to his right, the same boy appeared again, but younger this time, crying beside a dead body.
Blood coated the ground.
The boy screamed without a voice.
Alan's breath shook.
"What is this…?"
The scenery shifted violently.
A hiss echoed behind him.
Alan spun around.
A massive black serpent rose from the shadows, its fangs dripping with darkness itself. Its eyes glowed like cold fire.
It lunged at him.
Alan ran.
The serpent chased him, its enormous body ripping through the frozen ground. Alan sprinted through the dream, heart hammering, but the serpent was faster.
It snapped its jaws. Alan leapt aside and fell into a river of pure blackness.
The water swallowed him whole.
He sank deeper and deeper. He tried to swim up, but the river dragged him down like a living thing.
He couldn't breathe. He clawed at the dark water, but it closed over him.
His lungs burned.
His vision blurred.
Then, a voice pierced the darkness.
"Alan… you must survive. You have to find yourself."
A hand reached through the black water and grabbed his wrist.
Alan gasped-
And his eyes snapped open.
He bolted upright, chest heaving, sweat running down his face.
The room was dark except for the dim glow of dying embers.
Edward shot up.
"Whoa! Alan? What happened?"
Alan tried to breathe normally, but his hands were trembling.
"A nightmare." he whispered.
Edward blinked.
"A nightmare? My friend, that was not a normal scream. You woke up like someone tried to stab you."
Alan didn't answer.
Edward sat beside him.
"Hey, hey… It's okay. Dreams can't kill you. Unless they throw taxes at you. Then you're doomed."
Alan's lips twitched despite himself.
Edward nudged him.
"See? You're alive. Still spooky-looking, but alive."
Alan nodded slowly, trying to calm his pounding heart.
Edward leaned back.
"Want water? Want me to kick the nightmare out of your head? I have excellent kicking skills."
"I'm fine…" Alan whispered, though nothing felt fine.
"Liar," Edward said, but his tone was gentle. "But it's okay. Rest. Morning will be better."
Alan lay back down, but the dream clung to him like cold fingers.
He eventually drifted into a restless sleep.
Far away from the warm house,
near the quiet river just outside the village,
Kaelira sat alone.
Her sword rested across her lap.
The fire beside her crackled until a sudden cold wind blew through the trees, snuffing the flame out instantly.
Kaelira didn't flinch.
She simply opened her eyes.
"…It begins," she whispered.
Her grip tightened around the sword's handle.
Deep in the forest,
a faint sound began to rise,
Marching.
Thousands of feet brushed against soil.
An army.
Moving toward the village.
And somewhere beyond the trees… A strange humming echoed faintly. Only one person
heard it.
Alan.