After breakfast, Baker cleaned up the dishes and took a dark brown coat off the rack, draping it over his shoulders.
"Let's go, William. We need to leave early."
William nodded and followed Baker out of the house. Morning sunlight spilled over the dirt road, and the air carried the fresh scent of dew. The village was coming to life, with roosters crowing and the sounds of livestock echoing from afar.
As they passed the blacksmith's shop, Tom the blacksmith was hard at work, the rhythmic clang of his hammer ringing out along the street. Seeing the two approach, Tom paused to wipe the sweat from his brow.
"Morning, Dr. Baker! William's off to the ceremony today, isn't he?"
"Yes, Tom," Baker replied with a smile. "Today's an important day."
"William," Tom said, turning to him, "your father was the best warrior this village ever had. I'm sure you'll inherit his courage."
William nodded politely in response, though a pang of bitterness welled up inside him. He had no memories of his father—those had been lost in the accident, along with so much else.
Further down the path, they passed a vegetable field where an unusually tall figure caught William's attention. The man was carrying a bundle of firewood nearly as tall as he was, yet he seemed to manage it effortlessly. Hearing their footsteps, the man raised his head, and William got a clear look at him: thick brown eyebrows, bright blue eyes, and ruddy cheeks. A wide grin stretched across his round face, revealing a simple and honest demeanor.
"Good morning, Chuck," Baker greeted with a smile.
"Dr. Baker! William!" Chuck's voice boomed like thunder. William couldn't help but study the towering young man in front of him: six feet tall, broad shoulders, and arms bulging with muscles that looked like small hills. His skin was dark and rough, covered in thick hair, making him resemble an upright bear.
"William! You're heading to the ceremony too?" Chuck waved enthusiastically, the massive bundle of firewood on his shoulder swaying as if it weighed nothing.
"Yes," William replied simply, inwardly marveling at Chuck's strength.
"Haha! Me too! We've both just turned sixteen!" Chuck laughed heartily, striding forward with steps so heavy they made the ground tremble. "After the ceremony, we'll officially be adults!"
Chuck clapped the dirt from his hands and walked up to William, towering over him like a wall. William had to crane his neck just to meet Chuck's gaze.
Is he really only sixteen? William couldn't help but wonder.
"William, why haven't you come fishing with me lately? I've been waiting by the river every day," Chuck said, his tone almost accusatory.
William glanced awkwardly at Baker, who spoke softly, "Chuck, William's been sick. He's only just recovered, and he's lost many of his memories."
"Lost his memories?" Chuck's thick brows shot up. "Do you remember anything about us?"
Quietly, William admitted, "I've forgotten everything." Looking at Chuck—this massive, familiar figure—William felt a strange sense of loss. It seemed like they had once been close friends, but now he couldn't remember a thing.
"Everything?" Chuck's eyes widened in exaggerated disbelief. "Do you even remember who I am?"
William shook his head. "Sorry, I don't."
"Oh…" Chuck's shoulders slumped, his hulking frame suddenly looking vulnerable, like a child who had just lost his favorite candy. "Do you remember how to fish? Or the frogs we used to catch by the river? Or my favorite food?"
Baker interjected with a gentle laugh. "Chuck, why don't you deliver that wood to the carpenter first? We'll meet you in the village square later."
"Alright, alright!" Chuck nodded vigorously, his respect for Baker clear in his demeanor—perhaps even tinged with a bit of awe. "See you later, William!"
"Dr. Baker, about Chuck…" William began.
"You two grew up together," Baker explained, letting out a soft sigh. "But when he was a child, he came down with a severe fever. Ever since then, his temper has been rather volatile. I was worried he'd lose control if he found out about your injury, so I kept it from him."
"This kid's strength is beyond belief," Baker continued, a trace of concern in his voice. "When he's angry, no one can stop him—not without a worrior or four or five strong men holding him back. If he really lets loose, he could tear down half the village."
After leading William to the square, Baker excused himself, saying he needed to visit a family to tend to a patient.
William stood at the edge of the village square, observing the scene.
At the center of the square rose a towering structure—a gray, weathered tower built from rough stone. The marks of time etched its surface with scars and cracks.
Atop the tower hung a massive bronze bell, silent and still, like a sleeping giant exuding both mystery and majesty.
Around the square, villagers gathered in clusters, numbering in the hundreds. Most were young faces, chatting amongst themselves, filling the air with a persistent hum of conversation.
Yet an oppressive atmosphere seemed to hang over the crowd, weighing heavily on everyone's hearts. It was stifling.
As William studied the setup of the square, he felt a heavy hand clap down on his shoulder.
Turning around, he found Chuck's familiar round face beaming at him.
"William! Why are you so quiet?" Chuck's booming voice shattered the relative stillness of the square.
"Shh, keep it down," William hissed, glancing uneasily at the onlookers now staring in their direction. Lowering his voice, he gestured for Chuck to quiet down.
Chuck scratched his head sheepishly, letting out an awkward laugh before lowering his voice.
Maybe we were good friends, William thought, feeling a twinge of guilt as he watched Chuck try to adjust to his request. Just as he was about to start a conversation, a deep, resonant chime echoed through the square.
Dong—
The bell's sound reverberated through the square, vibrating in William's chest and numbing his ears.
"The ceremony's starting!" Chuck said excitedly, his voice almost as loud as the bell itself.
The deep chime continued, like the sigh of a giant beast, lingering in the air. William's heartbeat synced with its rhythm—heavy and deliberate.
Looking around, William noticed the villagers' expressions had shifted. Their faces grew solemn, even tinged with fervor—a stark contrast to the easygoing, relaxed atmosphere he had seen earlier.
A peculiar scent hung in the air—something like burning plants mixed with a faint metallic tang. It was nauseating.
At the front of the crowd, a tall figure stood out, dressed in a luxurious robe and holding a wooden staff.
"That's the village chief," Chuck whispered to William, his voice quieter than usual, the solemnity of the moment tempering even his usual boisterousness.
The village chief? William thought, his gaze settling on the tall figure.
He didn't seem all that different from the other villagers, aside from being slightly taller and better dressed. The wooden staff in his hand, however, marked him as someone of importance.
Behind the chief stood two individuals clad in black robes. Their faces were obscured by the shadows of their hoods, making their features impossible to discern.
Yet the aura they emitted sent waves of unease rippling through William.
"They're the warlocks," Chuck whispered again, this time with a hint of reverence in his voice.
Warlocks? William's frown deepened.
The village chief raised his wooden staff high and spoke in a commanding voice: "Good. You're all here on time. Today marks the Awakening Ceremony—a pivotal moment in your lives. I wish you success. No more idle talk; the auspicious hour is upon us. Let the ceremony begin!"
His voice was hoarse and low, yet carried an undeniable authority.
At his words, the villagers knelt in unison, their lips moving in silent prayer.
William remained standing, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He simply observed, feeling increasingly out of place.
Chuck knelt as well, glancing up at William and tugging lightly at his sleeve, silently urging him to kneel too.
After a moment's hesitation, William decided not to kneel.
I won't kneel for these people, and I won't take part in this bizarre ritual, he thought firmly.
Seeing William's defiance, Chuck awkwardly stood back up, his large frame drawing a few curious glances.
Suddenly, a strange sound echoed from above.
"Caw—caw—"
William looked up to see four massive birds flying in from the distance.
These creatures were far larger than ordinary eagles, their wingspans stretching over two meters. Their feathers were a dark gray, their eyes blood-red, their beaks sharp, and their talons razor-like. They radiated an aura of ferocity.
Each bird carried a heavy wooden crate in its talons. The crates were intricately carved with glowing runes that emitted a faint light.
"What are those things?" William asked, unable to hide his curiosity.
"I have no idea," Chuck replied, his expression equally puzzled.
The four birds circled above the square before descending to the center, where they placed their crates with a heavy thud.
They perched above the two sorcerers, cawing loudly, their cries echoing across the square.
William noticed how the birds seemed unusually affectionate toward the sorcerers. One even landed on a warlock's shoulder, gently nuzzling the edge of his hood with its sharp beak.
"Are these birds… theirs?" William muttered, his confusion deepening.
"I have no idea," Chuck admitted in a hushed tone. "I've never seen them before. Maybe they're the sorcerers'… pets?"
His voice carried a note of uncertainty.
At that moment, one of the warlocks raised his hand and murmured something incomprehensible to the birds.
Though the words were too soft for William to hear, the birds seemed to understand. As if responding to a command, they all turned and flew toward the edge of the village, quickly vanishing into the horizon.
"The ceremony is about to begin," Chuck said, snapping William's attention back to the present.
The two warlocks extended their hands from their wide sleeves.
Their hands were dry and skeletal, their skin wrinkled like the gnarled roots of an old tree.
In each hand, they held a fist-sized stone engraved with intricate patterns glowing faintly red.
"What's that?" William couldn't help but ask.
"Shh, don't talk!" Chuck whispered urgently, clearly nervous. "Those are rune stones, tools for the warlocks' spells."
The warlocks raised the rune stones high, chanting in a language William couldn't understand.
As they chanted, the glow from the stones intensified, and thin red beams of light began to radiate from them. The beams seemed alive, writhing and twisting in the air as they slowly extended toward the four wooden crates on the ground.
The red beams multiplied, weaving together like an enormous spider web that wrapped tightly around the crates.
Under the red light, the crates began to tremble slightly, and the runes carved on them started to flicker, as if responding to the beams.
William's eyes widened in awe as he watched the surreal scene unfold. He was utterly captivated.
He had never seen anything like this before. It defied all logic, surpassing anything he had ever known.
"Is this… magic?" he murmured to himself.
"Probably…" Chuck replied, equally stunned. "I've never seen anything like this either."
The villagers remained kneeling, their murmured prayers unwavering. It was clear they were accustomed to such displays.
Only William, Chuck, and a handful of other young participants who were attending the ceremony for the first time seemed overwhelmed by what they were witnessing.
The red beams continued converging on the crates, causing them to tremble more violently.
Suddenly, one of the crates burst open with a loud sound, revealing its contents.