The morning light filtered through the narrow streets of Lumenholt, casting elongated shadows across the cobblestone alleys. The town had always felt like a place caught between times. Its towering Gothic spires loomed over shops displaying trinkets that hummed faintly with inexplicable energy. Eran Vale, with his satchel slung across his shoulder, stood at the edge of the marketplace, watching as the townsfolk moved about their routines.

To most, Lumenholt was quaint, almost idyllic. To Eran, it was a puzzle. For years, he had questioned the oddities—the strange, glowing inscriptions etched into centuries-old stones, the peculiar devices found in homes that no one seemed to understand but used without question. As a historian, he had spent countless nights pouring over old texts and artifacts, but none of it made sense. It was as if the town existed in a liminal space, straddling the line between past and future.

Today was no different. His destination was Elder's Hollow, an ancient section of the town rumored to house relics predating recorded history. The council had recently restricted access, but Eran had learned to navigate around such barriers. His curiosity outweighed his fear of reprimand.

As he turned into the alley leading to Elder's Hollow, he felt the air change—thicker, heavier. The shadows seemed darker here, and the usual hum of the marketplace faded into silence. Eran's fingers brushed the hilt of the small blade he kept hidden beneath his coat, a precaution he rarely needed but never ignored.

He approached the gate, its iron bars etched with symbols that seemed to shimmer when touched by light. A faint vibration pulsed through the air as he leaned closer. Suddenly, a hand gripped his shoulder.

"Looking for something, Vale?"

Eran spun around to face Garrick Hensley, a council enforcer with a reputation for making problems disappear. His broad figure blocked the light, casting an ominous shadow.

"Just...research," Eran replied, forcing calm into his voice. "I'm documenting the town's architecture for the archive."

Garrick's lips curled into a smirk. "Is that so? Elder's Hollow isn't open to the public."

Eran's mind raced. He had planned for this, but the reality of being caught was unnerving. "Knowledge belongs to everyone," he said finally, stepping back.

Garrick's gaze narrowed. "Stay away from places you don't belong, Vale. Curiosity gets people hurt."

As Garrick disappeared into the shadows, Eran exhaled sharply. The encounter had rattled him, but his resolve hardened. If the council was hiding something here, he had to find out what.

Eran pushed the gate slightly, enough to slip through unnoticed. On the other side, Elder's Hollow stretched out like a forgotten world—ancient buildings half-covered in vines, their windows glinting as if hiding secrets. A low hum filled the air, almost like a heartbeat.

At the center of the hollow stood a stone obelisk, its surface etched with the same glowing symbols. As Eran approached, he felt a strange pull, a sensation that gripped his chest and filled his mind with fleeting images—fractured moments of a war-torn city, a woman's voice calling his name, and a blinding light.

He staggered back, his breathing shallow. Something about this obelisk was connected to the truths he sought. But as he turned to leave, a soft voice stopped him.

"You shouldn't be here."

Eran spun around to see a figure standing in the shadows—a woman with piercing eyes and an aura that seemed out of place, as if she didn't quite belong in this time.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The woman stepped forward, her voice steady. "I'm someone who knows the answers you're looking for. But you're not ready to hear them yet."

And just like that, she vanished, leaving Eran alone with the pulsing hum of the obelisk and a thousand questions echoing in his mind.