The streets of Lyranth were eerily still in the wake of the storm, the usual hustle of the village muffled under a blanket of silence. The rain had long since ceased, leaving the air thick and damp. Dorin stood at the edge of the village, his gaze drifting over the familiar rooftops and the distant silhouette of the forge where he'd spent countless hours at his father's side. He had always found comfort in the steady rhythm of his work, the clang of hammer against anvil, the smell of hot metal, the sense of purpose in shaping raw materials into something useful. But now, even the forge seemed distant, a place that no longer felt like home.
His mind was preoccupied, and the soldier's words from earlier still rattled through his thoughts, refusing to fade. Those who bear unusual marks. Dorin's fingers instinctively moved to his wrist, the bare skin that had always felt so ordinary now an unsettling reminder of something he couldn't yet understand. He had no marks. Or at least, none he could see. But then why had the soldier looked at him the way he had? Why had he felt… hunted? The idea that something within him was different, something hidden just beneath the surface, gnawed at him like a persistent itch he couldn't scratch.
What did it mean?
A soft voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to reality.
"Dorin?"
He turned to see Selene standing a few paces away, her tunic dusted with dirt from the day's work. She was watching him carefully, her brow furrowed in concern. There was a quiet intensity in her gaze, as if she could sense the turmoil within him. Dorin had always felt a certain peace when she was near, an unspoken understanding between them that made even the most confusing moments seem a little clearer. But today, he didn't know if he could explain the storm inside him.
"Is it the soldiers?" she asked gently, her voice threading through the thick silence like a lifeline.
Dorin hesitated, unsure of what to say. How do you explain a feeling you don't understand? How could he explain the strange sensation of being watched, of something lurking just beyond the edge of his awareness? The words felt too heavy, too impossible to put into a sentence.
"I… I don't know what it is," he said finally, his voice thick with frustration. He rubbed his forehead as if trying to push away the thoughts that plagued him. "It's like there's something wrong, but I don't know what."
Selene stepped closer, her eyes softening with empathy. She always knew when something was weighing on him, when he was lost in a storm of thoughts. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him a small but grounding gesture of reassurance.
"Maybe someone in the village has answers," she suggested, her voice calm, yet filled with the quiet strength she always carried. "Why don't you speak with Kale?"
Dorin considered her words for a moment, but before he could respond, a shadow fell across them, and his gaze shifted upward. Kale, the former resistance fighter, stood nearby. His posture was as commanding as ever, his eyes scanning the horizon with a look of quiet intensity. He had always been someone Dorin respected, a man who had seen too much of the world's darkness and carried the weight of those experiences with him. But today, there was something different in the way Kale carried himself—a tension Dorin couldn't quite place.
"We need to talk," Kale said, his voice low but steady, a note of urgency hidden beneath its calm surface.
Selene gave Dorin a final, understanding look, her eyes lingering for a moment before she turned and walked toward the village, her form swallowed by the winding path. Dorin felt a pang of guilt in his chest, wishing he could share more with her, but knowing that this was something he had to face on his own.
Kale watched Dorin for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and began to walk toward the edge of the village. Dorin followed, his heart racing, his mind still reeling from the earlier encounter with the soldiers. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, that his life was teetering on the edge of something he didn't fully understand.
When they were far enough from the village, Kale stopped and turned to face Dorin. The older man's eyes were sharp, piercing, as though he were measuring him, weighing something unknown in his gaze.
"You're more than a blacksmith's apprentice," Kale said, his voice low, each word seeming to carry more weight than the last.
Dorin stiffened, his pulse quickening. His hands clenched at his sides. "What are you saying?" His voice was quiet but edged with frustration. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to hear about his bloodline, about his destiny. But part of him already knew what Kale was going to say. It's always the same, isn't it? He couldn't escape the feeling that his past was catching up with him, and no matter how hard he tried to bury it, it was always there, lurking beneath the surface.
Kale didn't flinch. Instead, he stepped closer, his voice steady. "There's power in your blood. The same power the old kings bore, marked and bound by destiny. You've felt it, haven't you?"
Dorin's breath hitched. He wanted to deny it, wanted to laugh it off as nonsense. But deep down, in that place he had tried so hard to ignore, he knew it was true. He had felt it—those strange sensations when danger was near, the inexplicable way he seemed to know things without being told. He had chalked it up to luck, to instinct. But now, with Kale's words hanging in the air, the pieces of his life seemed to be falling into place in a way he didn't want to understand.
"I've never felt anything like that," Dorin said, his voice tight, but the lie felt hollow even as it left his lips.
Kale's eyes softened, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "You don't have to accept it," he said quietly. "But it's in you, Dorin. Whether you want it or not, you're marked. The same way those who came before you were. And it's only a matter of time before the world notices."
Dorin clenched his fists, trying to contain the frustration and fear that swirled inside him. "Why are you telling me this now? Why not earlier?"
Kale's gaze darkened. "I wasn't sure before. I didn't know if you were ready for the truth. But now…" He let the words hang in the air between them, the unspoken weight of what was coming pressing down on them both.
Dorin took a step back, his thoughts racing. "Then what am I supposed to do?"
Kale regarded him for a long moment, his face unreadable. "You need to be ready," he said. "And when the time comes, you'll have a choice. Either accept who you are or let the world decide for you."
Dorin swallowed hard, trying to make sense of it all. The weight of Kale's words pressed down on him like a stormcloud gathering on the horizon. He had always believed he was nothing more than the blacksmith's son, a simple man with simple dreams. But now, everything was changing.
The following days passed in a blur. Dorin found it impossible to focus, his thoughts consumed by Kale's words. He couldn't shake the feeling that his life was slipping away from him, that the future was a force he couldn't control. His usual tasks at the forge felt meaningless, his interactions with Selene distant. She tried to talk to him, but he couldn't bring himself to share what was happening inside him.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Dorin needed to get away. He needed space to think, to make sense of everything. So he walked, farther than he had planned, until he found himself in a quiet clearing near the edge of the forest. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of the night seemed to calm him, but the tension still coiled in his chest.
And then he felt it—a presence. A cold, unmistakable feeling of being watched.
Dorin's heart skipped a beat, and he turned to see a figure standing in the shadows. A man, tall and cloaked in tattered, dark clothing, his face half-hidden by a hood. His eyes gleamed with something Dorin couldn't quite place, but the recognition in them was unmistakable.
"You've been waiting for me," Dorin said, his voice steady despite the rush of fear that rose in his chest.
The man didn't speak immediately. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate and calm, like a predator circling its prey. Finally, his voice broke the silence, soft yet heavy with meaning.
"It's time to remember who you are, Dorin," the man said, his words like a stone thrown into the stillness of the night. "You can't outrun your destiny."
Dorin's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding. The stranger's words lingered in the air, a dark promise of things to come.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
And then, like a storm breaking on the horizon, the figure turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving Dorin alone with nothing but the weight of his destiny pressing against his chest.