Kaelin emerged from the forest, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached the edge of the village. The moon had risen high in the sky, casting the cobbled streets in a cold, silvery glow. Smoke still curled lazily from chimneys, but the usual warmth of the sight felt distant. The village felt wrong tonight—silent, too still, as though the air itself held its breath.
His sword rested at his side, its glow subdued but steady. The encounter with the shard and the shadowy figures had left him rattled, but Kaelin's mind was too focused to let fear take root. There were answers to be found here, threads that needed pulling, and he wasn't about to let superstition or small-town unease deter him.
As he crossed the village square, he noticed the windows of the houses were dark, their shutters closed tight. Only the inn showed signs of life, its lanterns flickering faintly behind drawn curtains. The silence was broken by the soft creak of wood as Jorin stepped out onto the inn's porch, his expression grim.
"You're back," Jorin said, his voice low but steady. His eyes flicked to Kaelin's sword, then back to his face. "What did you find?"
Kaelin stopped at the bottom of the steps, his gaze sweeping over the village before settling on the innkeeper. "Something's stirring in the forest," he said. "A shard of the Forge, or what's left of it. It's powerful, and it's drawing things to it."
Jorin's brow furrowed, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "You mean those… shadows? The creatures?"
Kaelin nodded. "They're more than just creatures. They called me Eternal—like they knew what I am, or what I'm tied to. Whatever they are, they're connected to the Forge."
Jorin let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the porch railing. "That explains the unease tonight. The villagers feel it, even if they don't understand it. Animals spooked, air too still—it's like the world's holding its breath."
Kaelin glanced toward the forest, its dark silhouette looming against the night sky. "It's more than unease. The shard's power is fading now, but it's only a matter of time before something else comes looking for it."
Jorin's eyes narrowed. "And you?"
Kaelin's jaw tightened. "I'm already part of this. The shard's tied to me now, just like my sword. I don't know what's coming, but I'll deal with it."
Jorin studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded. "The villagers won't understand. They'll see you as the cause of all this, not the solution."
Kaelin's lips curled into a faint, bitter smile. "I've been blamed for worse."
Jorin straightened, his voice softening. "If you need anything, let me know. You've got a place to rest here, at least."
Kaelin inclined his head in gratitude. "Thanks."
As Jorin stepped back into the inn, Kaelin lingered on the porch, his gaze fixed on the darkened houses. The village wasn't just uneasy—it was afraid. He could feel it in the air, in the way the silence pressed down like a heavy blanket. Whatever was tied to the Forge, it wasn't just his burden to bear. It was already affecting the lives of those around him, even if they didn't understand why.
Kaelin entered the inn, his boots creaking against the wooden floor. The common room was empty save for a single lantern burning on the bar. Jorin had left a pitcher of water and a loaf of bread, and Kaelin helped himself, tearing off a piece and chewing it absently as his mind raced.
The voice he'd heard in the void haunted him. "The shards call to one another." The Forge wasn't just a broken relic—it was the foundation of the multiverse itself, and its fragments were tied to him in ways he was only beginning to grasp. Each shard he claimed brought him closer to the truth, but it also drew more danger to his path.
He finished his meal and climbed the stairs to his room. The small space was as he'd left it, the bed neatly made, the shutters closed tight against the chill night air. Kaelin removed his sword and set it against the wall, its glow faint but comforting. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as exhaustion pressed down on him.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Cyran. The shadow in the mist, the silent accusation in its gaze—Kaelin couldn't shake the memory, couldn't silence the questions clawing at his mind. Had it been real? A fragment of his shattered memory? Or something more?
"You're not here," Kaelin muttered to the empty room. "Just another ghost haunting my mind."
The sword pulsed faintly, its hum breaking the silence. Kaelin glanced at it, his lips curling into a wry smile. "Guess you're not much of a conversationalist either."
He lay back on the bed, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as sleep began to creep in at the edges of his vision. But just as he started to drift off, a sharp knock at the door jolted him awake.
Kaelin sat up, his hand already on his sword. "Who is it?"
"It's me," Jorin's voice came from the other side. "You might want to see this."
Kaelin rose, strapping his sword to his side before opening the door. Jorin stood in the dim hallway, a lantern in his hand and a look of urgency on his face.
"What's wrong?" Kaelin asked.
"The square," Jorin said, his voice low. "There's something out there."
Kaelin followed Jorin down the stairs and out into the night. The cold air hit him like a wave, sharp and biting, but it wasn't the chill that made his skin crawl. The square was bathed in an unnatural light, its center glowing faintly with a bluish hue. A crowd of villagers had gathered at the edges, their faces pale with fear.
Kaelin pushed his way to the front, his eyes narrowing as he saw the source of the light. A strange symbol had appeared in the cobblestones, etched into the ground as if burned there by an unseen hand. The symbol was similar to the ones he had seen on the shard, its lines twisting and shifting as though alive.
"What is it?" Jorin asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Kaelin stared at the symbol, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "A warning," he said. "Or a beacon."
As the words left his lips, the light intensified, and the symbol began to pulse in time with the hum of Kaelin's sword. The air grew heavy, vibrating with an energy that made Kaelin's chest tighten. The villagers backed away, their murmurs rising in fear.
Kaelin stepped forward, his sword drawn, its glow merging with the light of the symbol. The ground beneath his feet trembled, and a low, guttural sound echoed through the square. Kaelin's jaw tightened as he raised his sword, his voice steady despite the tension in his body.
"Whatever you are," he said, his words cutting through the noise, "you'll have to deal with me first."
The light flared, blinding and brilliant, as a shadow began to rise from the center of the symbol. Kaelin braced himself, his sword pulsing with energy. The battle wasn't over—not by a long shot.