It had not even fully come above when it broke through the heavy mist, casting pale silver paint upon the village. Kaelen stood in the doorway of his small home, his gaze out upon the familiar roofs and the hills that stretched across the distance. His heart was heavy, his body aching. He could still feel the slight warmth of the stone against his hand, its glow lingering at the edges of his mind. Elara's memory still clung to her piercing gaze, her ominous warnings, the name Aeron.

 

His uncle. His bloodline. His fate.

 

Kaelen turned back into the house and closed the door behind him, shutting out the cold air. His small wooden table was strewn with herbs and scraps of parchment, remnants of the simple life he had led before all of this began. The quiet hum of the hearth filled the room, the scent of wood smoke mingling with sage and earth. It was supposed to feel safe, but it no longer did.

 

He had never been one to dwell on family. Orphanhood had been his only reality as long as he could remember. His father had died before Kaelen could remember and his mother was taken by illness when he was only a boy. The villagers had taken him in, raised him and life had always been small but steady. His days had been spent learning simple trades and gathering herbs, living under the shadow of the hills and the whisper of the wind.

 

But now, his family his bloodline felt like an inescapable weight.

 

The name Elara had spoken haunted him, Aeron.

 

That was his unknown uncle, the figure from his dreams, a dark shape attached to gods, prophecy, and now the Heart of Ashara. Kaelen could not quite dismiss the thought that this man was so much closer to his life than he would have ever conceived of. Whispers, visions, and stones pulling toward it all seem to link to Aeron.

 

"Perhaps I should know more," Kaelen muttered to himself.

 

He gathered his things: a little pack of supplies, his knife, and the small pouch of herbs he would need. His hands lingered for a moment on the stone. He looked at it, and the faint glow pulsing beneath its surface sent another wave of unease through his chest. His fingers twitched over it.

 

He couldn't let it dictate his choices. Not yet. But his uncertainty tugged at him.

 

Taking a deep breath, Kaelen stepped out of his house and into the chill of morning air. The village was silent, with sounds of roosters crowing and people taking their daily routines quiet and serene. No one knew what happened to him, what he found. He could feel it in their faces, gentle smiles, silent benevolence. They would never know the weight of the Heart or the power that had begun to take root in his life.

 

But they would soon.

 

He set off toward the hills, toward the old paths that led toward forgotten ruins and the memories of old gods.

 

 It was a silent grove, a hollow in the stone hills where ancient oaks and pines grew, their branches intertwining in a shadowy canopy of light. Stillness filled the air with damp earth scent and mist. This was where the old secrets used to hide, where his father would take him on walks when he was still a boy, and their breaths mixed with the whispers of nature.

 

Now, it was different.

 

The hills rose like ancient bones, the earth uneven and jagged beneath his feet. He paused at the base of a weather-worn stone marker, covered in lichen and moss. His father had brought him here long ago to teach him about the gods that had long since passed from memory. The figures of their ancestors had always seemed far away, but now they felt far more real.

 

Something in this place felt alive.

 

Kaelen sat at the base of the stone, his breaths shallow. His thoughts moved to a different plane, but his mind was tugging and grasping for the corners of memory. He closed his eyes, seeking some bit of calm, but he could think only of a face.

 

Aeron's face.

 

The visions came to him again, unbidden this time. Tall, and imposing, his features sharp and weathered, his gaze cold but calculating. The figure that haunted his dreams wasn't simply an idea or a whisper of prophecy. It was real. He could feel the power that came with the name, with the legacy of his bloodline.

 

And yet, what did he know about him?

 

Kaelen had never met Aeron, and his parents had never mentioned the name. His father died before Kaelen even remembered what it was to have one, and his mother preferred that all things of the history of their family remained unsaid. Or perhaps she simply never asked. Kaelen's life had been steady enough to never ask questions about long-forgotten relatives.

 

But now the name tormented him, and the image of Aeron, linked with this ancient relic, felt an iron chain wrapped tightly across his chest.

 

Why did you choose me? Kaelen whispered, his voice soft against the wind.

 

The wind stirred through the trees; the sound was like whispers. His heart was sore, an ache, a pressure constant in his chest. Perhaps he would never have the answers; perhaps the questions would forever haunt him.

 

The sound of footsteps broke his thoughts.

 

He turned sharply, his knife already in his hand.

 

The woman stood there, emerging from the mist with quiet certainty.

 

Elara.

 

She had followed him, it appeared, though how she had managed to track him down, he didn't know. The dark cloak swept the ground at her feet as she approached. Her eyes were sharp, knowing, as she stopped several paces from him.

 

I hoped you would come here, she said softly.

 

Kaelen narrowed his eyes, his voice cold. Why?

 

Because the choice is coming, she said simply, her voice steady, unwavering. And Aeron is watching. You must learn the truth of your heritage, Kaelen. You must decide whether you will fight your fate or surrender to it.

 

Kaelen didn't respond immediately. His fingers tightened around his knife.

 

Elara's eyes softened just ever so slightly. The blood in your veins runs through Aeron's own. He is your uncle, Kaelen. A warrior, a noble, and now a seeker of power. His path was once noble, but ambition has made him something darker.

 

The words hung in the air. Kaelen swallowed, trying to push the knot in his throat down.