Kael woke to the familiar sound of birdsong outside his window, but something about the day felt off. The sunlight filtering through the curtains felt weaker, subdued, as though the world itself was holding its breath. As he got ready, he couldn't shake the feeling that his father's behavior had grown stranger. Aiden was distant—more than usual. Over breakfast, he avoided Kael's gaze, his words curt and vague, though his mother seemed oblivious to the shift.
"Kael," Aiden finally said, setting his cup down with a hollow thud. "I'll be out most of the day. I need you to stay close to the house."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Why? Something wrong?"
"No," Aiden replied too quickly, brushing off the concern. "Just do as I ask."
Kael frowned. His father was always a man of few words, but there was something unnervingly final in his tone.
"Where are you going?" Kael pressed, trying to sound casual.
Aiden paused, the slightest flicker of hesitation crossing his face. "Just some errands."
With that, he rose from the table, grabbed his satchel, and left. Kael watched him disappear into the streets, his mind churning with questions.
---
Kael spent the morning doing chores, though his hands worked mechanically, his thoughts elsewhere. The wooden bucket he carried sloshed water onto the ground as he replayed the morning's conversation. His father wasn't just acting strange—he was hiding something.
By midday, Kael had enough of brooding. Seeking distraction, he decided to find his friends. They always had a way of pulling him out of his own head, though today, he hoped they might help him make sense of his growing unease.
He found Dren near the village square, seated on a stone bench with a stack of scrolls balanced precariously on his lap. The boy was oblivious to the bustling market around him, entirely absorbed in the ancient writings before him.
"Kael!" Dren's face lit up as he noticed his friend. "You won't believe what I found!"
"Another dusty scroll?" Kael teased, though he couldn't help but smile.
"Not just any scroll," Dren said, unrolling a large map with exaggerated care. "This is a map of the region from over a century ago. Look at the markings here—there used to be a fortress not far from the village. Isn't that fascinating?"
Kael leaned closer, inspecting the faded ink. The fortress's location was marked with a symbol he didn't recognize, a strange insignia that made his skin prickle.
"Interesting," Kael admitted. "But why does it matter?"
"Because history matters," Dren said, his tone insistent. "What if there's more to this village than we know? What if the people who lived here before us left something behind?"
Kael chuckled. "You'd find a pile of rocks fascinating if it had history behind it."
"Exactly! Imagine the stories they'd tell," Dren said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Before Kael could respond, Lyra appeared, bow slung over her shoulder and a quiver of arrows at her side. She gave them a brief nod, her expression as sharp as ever.
"What's this about old kingdoms?" she asked, her tone skeptical.
"Just Dren being Dren," Kael said. "Finding connections where there probably aren't any."
Dren frowned. "Hey, history has a way of sneaking up on you. One day, you'll thank me for all this knowledge."
Lyra rolled her eyes but smirked. "Well, while you're playing historian, some of us are keeping an eye out for trouble. There's been talk of strangers near the village."
Kael and Dren exchanged glances.
"What kind of strangers?" Kael asked.
"Armed ones," Lyra said, her voice low. "Could be mercenaries, could be worse. No one knows for sure, but if you ask me, it's better to stay prepared."
Dren shifted uneasily. "Do you think they're planning something?"
"I don't know," Lyra admitted. "But I've seen the way people in the market are talking. There's fear in their eyes."
Kael's thoughts flickered back to his father's strange behavior that morning. Was it connected?
---
The three decided to explore the outskirts of the village together, both to satisfy Dren's curiosity and to ease Kael's growing unease. They followed an overgrown path that wound through the fields, Dren carrying his scrolls, Lyra keeping her bow ready, and Kael lost in thought.
Along the way, they stumbled across signs that something—or someone—had passed through recently. A broken wagon wheel lay abandoned near the path, its edges splintered and worn. The faint smell of smoke lingered in the air, though no fire was visible.
"See? I told you something's going on," Lyra said, tightening her grip on her bow.
Dren crouched beside the wheel, inspecting it. "Could be nothing. Travelers lose things all the time."
"Or it could be something," Kael muttered, his eyes scanning the horizon.
A flash of movement in the distance caught his attention, but when he turned, it was gone. He shook his head, wondering if he'd imagined it.
---
As the day waned, Kael returned home, hoping to confront his father about the day's discoveries. Instead, he found his father's study locked, and his mother wouldn't say where Aiden had gone.
That night, Kael sat alone in his room, the artifact clutched in his hands. He couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that everything—his father's secrecy, the strangers, even the whispers from the artifact—was connected.
Then, as he closed his eyes, a vision struck him: a shadowy figure standing atop a hill in the rain, their posture commanding and unyielding. The image lasted only a second, but it left Kael breathless. He sat up, heart pounding, as if the vision had been a memory—or a warning.