As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the market in a warm, golden glow, she spotted what she had been searching for: a vendor with a stall piled high with feathers of every color and size. Her heart raced as she approached, the amulet in her head pulsing with anticipation. The vendor was a plump woman with a knowing smile, her eyes sharp and keen. She eyed the old woman's cloak with unveiled greed.
"You've got an eye for the finer things, don't you?" she said, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness. "I've got just what you need, a feather so rare, so powerful, it could make you a legend in these parts."
The old woman felt the weight of the coins in her pouch, the fruits of her labor weighing heavily on her mind. She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving the feather that lay atop the pile. It was a deep blue, the color of a midnight sky, with a metallic sheen that danced in the torchlight.
"How much for the feather?" she asked, her voice steady.
The vendor's eyes narrowed, appraising her. "This isn't just any feather, my dear," she said, holding it up with two chubby fingers. "This is from the wing of a Phoenix. It's said to grant the wisdom of the ancients." She named a price that made the old woman's eyes widen.
Swallowing hard, Flora reached into her pouch and counted out the coins. The vendor's smile grew wider as she took the feather, her eyes gleaming with greed. Flora didn't care. This was what she had come for. The final piece of the puzzle that would allow her to face the beast of despair.
With the feather in hand, she retreated to the shadows of the tavern at the heart of the village.
The warmth of the fire and the smell of roasting meats beckoned her, and she took a seat at a corner table, her cloak of fur and antler drawing curious glances from the patrons. She ordered a simple meal of bread, cheese, and stew, her eyes never leaving the prize that rested beside her plate.
As she broke the crust of the bread, the chatter of the tavern patrons filled her ears like a symphony of whispers. The conversations were of crops and livestock, of the comings and goings of travelers, and of the whispers of war that danced on the edge of the horizon. Yet amidst the mundane, she caught the threads of something more.
A group of men, their faces flushed with drink and their laughter too loud, spoke of strange occurrences in the forest. Trees that whispered secrets, streams that ran with gold, and beasts that had taken to the night as if driven by some unseen terror.
Flora's ears perked up, her eyes gleaming with the light of understanding. These were not mere drunken tall tales; they were omens that were happening .
The stew was rich and warm, filling her belly with the sustenance she needed to continue her journey.
" Ahh! When last did I have something like this…?"
Each spoonful seemed to imbue her with strength , the warmth spreading through her like a gentle embrace. Her eyes never left the scroll she had rolled up and tucked into her cloak, the words of the prophecy playing like a silent chant in her mind.
The tavern was alive with the murmur of conversations, the clinking of mugs, and the crackle of the fire. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meats and the faint hint of ale. As she ate, she listened intently to the whispers of the townsfolk, her sharp ears picking up snippets of information that could be vital to her quest.
A group of burly men in the corner spoke of a recent string of thefts in the night, their voices low and tinged with fear.
They spoke of shadows that moved with unnatural speed, leaving only a trail of frost in their wake. Flora took a sip of her warm mead, her mind racing with the possibilities. Could it be one of the mythical creatures she had read about in the scroll?
A young girl with wide eyes and a quivering voice spoke of a beast that had been spotted near the outskirts of the village, something that had never been seen before. Its howls pierced the night, leaving the livestock trembling in fear.
Flora felt a shiver run down her spine, the amulet in her head pulsing with an energy she had not felt before. The trials were drawing closer, and she knew she would have to face them soon.
The tavern grew quiet as a traveler, dusty from the road, took the stage. He spoke of a great evil stirring in the lands beyond, an ancient power that threatened to consume all in its path. His words painted a grim picture of war and destruction, of ancients and heroes standing against the tide of darkness. Flora leaned in, her heart racing. This was not just local gossip; it was reality of this new world. Danger lurked everywhere.
" I saw some people in Red. They were looking for a fugitive. The bounty is 20 high grade crystal. "
The men at the bar spoke in hushed tones of the Burning Amber, a group of warriors sworn to hunt down a fugitive that had eluded even the ancients' own eyes.
" Who is that fugitive?" One of the men asked.
" The fugitive was said to be wearing a fox mask, a symbol of cunning and trickery, and was rumored to be a shapeshifter capable of blending into any crowd. " The other man replied.
" That….for 20 High grade crystals? "
" Yes. The fugitive is definitely not ordinary. It's like a death sentence. If the Burning ambers couldn't hold them , then how can we?"
Flora's eyes narrowed. This village might look peaceful, but this was just an illusion.
Their conversation grew more fervent, their gestures more animated, as they recounted tales of the fugitive's daring escapes and the destruction left in their wake.
Flora felt a strange kinship with this mysterious figure. After all, she too was a hunted soul, her destiny shrouded in the mists of a prophecy that none could fully understand.
The men's voices grew louder, their words slurred with ale as they spoke of the Burning Amber's imminent arrival. The very name sent a shiver down her spine.
These were not mere bounty hunters; they were legendary warriors, feared and revered in equal measure. Their leader, a woman of unparalleled beauty and ruthless efficiency, was said to be able to track her quarry through the very fabric of the world.
Flora, knew she had to leave. She had a destiny to fulfill, and the trials awaited her in the forest. She tossed a few coins on the table, the sound echoing through the tavern like a declaration of intent. The room fell silent as she stood, the weight of the scroll and her newfound purpose heavy on her shoulders. She pushed through the door, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth she left behind.