The next day Xander strolled through the village streets again. The air carried a hum of anticipation, a stark contrast to the quiet he'd grown accustomed to. Brightly colored banners hung between stone buildings, and villagers bustled about, setting up stalls and adorning the square with garlands of wildflowers. Children laughed as they darted through the crowd, while older villagers directed carts loaded with supplies.
Curiosity prickled at Xander's thoughts as he observed the commotion. He knew the festival they were preparing for, well he heard a lot of the villagers talking about it The Rite of Awakening, but its deeper significance eluded him. He paused by the edge of the village square, leaning against a low stone wall as he watched.
"They celebrate mediocrity," Xander muttered under his breath. In his mind, the vibrancy of the preparations clashed with the low standards of their daily lives. Homes were functional but uninspired, tools outdated, and the village itself lacked even basic infrastructure improvements he thought could transform their lives.
He caught sight of a woman struggling to haul a sack of grain onto a cart. Two men nearby laughed and cheered her on but made no move to help. Xander grimaced and turned away.
His gaze drifted to the forest on the horizon. Somewhere out there, answers lay hidden. Answers about why he was here and what he was supposed to do.
---
As he wandered, his thoughts turned to Aeternis. The cryptic, shapeshifting entity had all but vanished after the day it attended the council meeting. Despite its reassurances, Xander couldn't help but feel uneasy without it nearby. If he was going to navigate this world, he needed a guide—one he could trust.
"Lost in thought, are we?"
Xander turned sharply toward the voice. Standing under the shade of an oak tree was a man in his late thirties, dressed in a simple but well-kept robe. His dark eyes sparkled with intelligence, and his hands were calloused from years of work.
"I've seen you wandering before," the man continued, stepping closer. "Always watching, always thinking. But you don't quite blend in, do you?"
Xander forced a casual smile. "And who are you to notice so much?"
The man chuckled. "A scholar by trade. My name is Corvin. I spend my days studying things most people here dismiss as useless."
"Xander," he replied. "And what is it you study?"
"History, lore, the occasional oddity," Corvin said. "And, of course, the Rite of Awakening. This festival you see—it's all leading up to it."
Xander perked up. "What do you know about it?"
Corvin gestured for Xander to follow, leading him down a quieter path away from the bustling square. "It's an ancient tradition, tied to Elarion itself. At the age of twenty-one, each person undergoes a ritual. If they are deemed worthy, they awaken to an ability. Something that sets them apart. Some call it a blessing; others think of it as a test."
"And if they fail?" Xander asked.
"They don't speak of it," Corvin said solemnly. "Failure carries no punishment, at least not officially. But the stigma is enough. An unawakened adult is seen as incomplete—a coward or a fool."
Xander frowned. "And the abilities they receive? How do they use them?"
Corvin sighed. "Ah, that's where the tragedy lies. Most treat their awakening as the end of a journey, not the beginning. They gain these gifts—strength, agility, even elemental control—but rarely do they strive to improve. A farmer may use his ability to till fields faster, or a blacksmith to forge slightly better tools. But innovation? Progress? It's stifled by their contentment."
Xander felt a familiar frustration bubbling within him. "Why wouldn't they want to be better? To build something greater for themselves?"
Corvin gave him a knowing look. "Fear, perhaps. Complacency. When survival is all they've ever known, the idea of thriving seems like a dream too far to reach."
As they walked through the street of the village.
Xander's mind began to race with ideas. Better tools, efficient farming techniques, perhaps even a way to harness the abilities people gained during the Rite of Awakening. If he could show them what was possible, maybe he could spark a change.
Xander walked alongside Corvin, the scholar's pace leisurely as he gestured at the bustling activity around them. The two meandered through a quieter path that bordered the village square, where preparations for the upcoming festival continued with fervor.
Corvin clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze distant. "The people here are simple folk. Their lives revolve around tradition, survival, and faith in things they don't fully understand."
" The Rite of Awakening? Tell me more about it" Xander asked, his curiosity piqued.
Corvin chuckled softly. "The pride of Valeria. Every young man and woman dreams of the day they step into the sacred circle, hoping to be granted an ability. It's a moment of glory, but it ends there. Few ask themselves what comes after. The abilities are tools, but they don't use them to build—only to get by."
Xander frowned, his gaze drifting to a farmer unloading sacks of grain from a cart. The man's movements were unnaturally precise, his hands glowing faintly as he worked. "And no one has tried to push beyond that? To innovate?"
Corvin sighed. "Some have. But tradition runs deep here. Those who question it are often seen as outcasts. Innovators are treated with suspicion, even hostility. The last man who suggested a new irrigation system was accused of defying the gods. He left the kingdom not long after."
Xander's frustration bubbled over. "That's ridiculous. Why cling to ignorance when progress could make life so much easier?"
Corvin stopped walking and turned to face Xander. His eyes were solemn. "You're an outsider here, Xander. What seems obvious to you feels dangerous to them. Change is a frightening thing. It threatens the balance they've grown comfortable with, even if that balance is flawed."
Xander folded his arms, his jaw tightening. "So what? We're just supposed to let them stay stuck in this cycle of mediocrity because they're scared? Someone has to show them there's a better way."
The scholar studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "It's a noble thought," Corvin said finally. "But be careful. A man with ideas is often seen as a threat, especially in a kingdom that values tradition over progress."
Xander's gaze didn't waver. "People are only scared of what they don't know. If we show them that change isn't something to fear—that it can work—they'll come around. They just need proof."
Corvin smiled faintly, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. "Perhaps. But proof can be a double-edged sword. For every person inspired by it, there will be another who feels threatened. Change may start small, but it often snowballs. Before you know it, the entire kingdom could be caught in its wake. Are you prepared for that?"
Xander didn't answer immediately. He looked around at the village—the weathered buildings, the outdated tools, the people who seemed content yet burdened. He thought of his own world, where progress was celebrated and innovation was the driving force.
"I don't have all the answers," Xander admitted. "But if I can help them see what's possible, then maybe they'll take that first step themselves."
Corvin's smile widened, a spark of approval lighting his features. "You have the fire of a revolutionary, Xander. Just be careful that fire doesn't burn you first."
---
The conversation took a turn toward specifics as they continued walking.
Xander gestured toward the bustling square. "Take this festival, for example. All these preparations are done manually—tediously. What if there was a way to streamline it? Machines, tools, even something as simple as better carts could save time and effort."
Corvin raised an eyebrow. "Machines? Tools? You speak as though you've seen such things."
"I have," Xander said without hesitation. "In my world, we use machines for farming, construction, even communication. With the right tools, you could transform this village into a thriving hub instead of just surviving year to year."
Corvin's curiosity deepened. "And how would you convince the people to embrace such ideas?"
Xander considered this. "Start small. Introduce something that solves an immediate problem—like irrigation for the farmers or better forges for the blacksmiths. Once they see the results, they'll be more open to trying other things."
The scholar nodded slowly. "It's an intriguing thought. But you'll need more than tools to win them over. The people here are deeply rooted in their faith. Many believe their abilities are gifts from the gods, meant to be used as they are—not enhanced or improved upon."
Xander frowned. "Faith shouldn't mean stagnation. If their gods gave them these abilities, wouldn't it make sense to use them to their fullest potential?"
Corvin's expression darkened slightly. "Careful, Xander. That line of thinking could land you in trouble. The Council is particularly sensitive to anything that questions tradition. And the last thing you want is their attention."
"Let them notice me," Xander said firmly. "If it means making life better for these people, then it's worth the risk."
Corvin chuckled, though there was a hint of unease in his voice. "You remind me of someone I used to know. He had big ideas, too. But he underestimated how deeply fear can run in the hearts of men."
As they reached the outskirts of the village, Corvin stopped and leaned against a weathered fence. "The Rite of Awakening is more than a ceremony," he said. "It's a symbol of identity. Those who awaken are seen as blessed, even if they do little with their gifts. For many, it's enough to say, 'I am not unawakened.'"
"And those who don't awaken?" Xander asked.
Corvin's expression grew somber. "They live in the shadows. Some leave the kingdom to escape the shame. Others try to hide it. But the stigma follows them like a brand."
Xander shook his head. "That's no way to live. If they're going to base their entire society on this ritual, they should at least be using it to grow—not just to survive."
Corvin tilted his head thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're right. But change is a slow and painful process. Are you willing to endure that pain for their sake?"
Xander's answer came without hesitation. "If it means a better future for them, then yes. I'll endure it."
Corvin smiled faintly, though his eyes were shadowed with doubt. "Then I wish us luck, Xander. We'll need it... meet me at Barlow's tavern tonight, there are people I think you should meet."
As they parted ways, Xander felt a renewed sense of purpose. The village had potential—he was certain of it. And though he didn't know how long he would be in this world, he was determined to make a difference while he was here.
But as he made his way back toward the modest home where he was staying, a shadow passed over the village. It was faint, barely noticeable, but Xander felt a chill creep down his spine.
Unbeknownst to him, a figure stood at the edge of the forest, their eyes glowing faintly as they watched him.
"Change is coming," the figure murmured, their voice low and ominous. "And with it, chaos."