The cool night air wrapped around the group as they prepared for their journey to the shrine. The sky was a vast expanse of stars, and the faint glow of the moon illuminated the forest path ahead. The once-familiar trail was now overgrown, branches arching like solemn guardians over the way.
Greaves adjusted his pack, his gaze lingering on the path. "Hard to believe it's been five years since we last came here," he muttered, his voice tinged with nostalgia.
Lera, walking beside him, nodded and pulled her shawl tighter. "We used to come every year. But after that night…" Her eyes softened as she glanced back at the five children gathering near the door. "It felt safer to stay away."
"Safer, sure," Darnell said, his sword bouncing lightly at his hip as he fell into step with them. "But you can't avoid it forever. Shrines like this don't just lose their meaning because of danger."
"Not when it's tied to the old gods," Sam added, his hammer resting on his belt. "Places like this… they're never forgotten. Not by the ones who still believe."
Greaves gave a dry laugh. "Believe? Half the world doesn't even remember the old gods exist, Sam. And the other half think they're myths."
Sam shrugged, his lean frame cutting a shadow against the moonlight. "Doesn't change the truth. Belief's got nothing to do with it."
Lera's voice softened as she said, "My parents believed. They used to tell me stories of the old gods when I was little. They said they were kind and fair. They wanted balance in the world."
"Doesn't sound like the gods I've heard about," Darnell remarked. "Most gods sound like they're more interested in power."
"Those are the new gods," Greaves said bitterly. "They made sure to stamp out the truth. The old gods… they were protectors. But when the war ended, the victors got to write the story."
Lera sighed, her voice tinged with sadness. "Even my parents didn't speak about them openly. They were mages—good ones—but when the king called for war, they answered. And they never came back."
Zara hesitated, then spoke softly. "I didn't know your parents were mages, Miss Lera."
Lera gave her a faint smile. "Not many did. They didn't flaunt it. But I owe what I know to them."
Ox frowned, glancing up at the adults. "Why would the new gods want to get rid of the old ones? If the old gods were good, that doesn't make sense."
Greaves looked at him with a mix of admiration and sadness. "Because power corrupts, Ox. The new gods didn't want balance. They wanted control. So they erased the old gods from history."
The group fell quiet, the forest around them filled with the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of crickets. The children walked closely together, their small footsteps crunching on the overgrown path.
Cross broke the silence, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows. "Do you think there are other shrines like this? Ones that haven't been found?"
"There must be," Darnell said. "The old gods wouldn't have left their marks in just one place. But finding them would take… well, faith."
"Or luck," Greaves muttered. "Probably both."
Sparks looked up at Sam, her small hand brushing against his. "Why do you follow the dwarven gods, Mr. Sam? You're not a dwarf."
Sam chuckled, his voice warm. "True enough, Sparks. But the dwarven god of craft… that one makes sense to me. Always did. A craftsman doesn't have to be a dwarf to respect good work."
Ox, walking beside Darnell, tugged on his sleeve. "Do you think I'll get a weapon one day?"
Darnell grinned down at him. "Maybe when you're bigger, kid. Right now, most swords would knock you over."
"I don't want a sword," Ox said firmly, his small fists clenching. "I'm better with my hands."
Darnell raised an eyebrow, amused. "A brawler, huh? Can't say I'm surprised."
Greaves laughed softly, the sound echoing through the quiet forest. "Brawler or not, you'll need discipline, Ox. Magic and strength are nothing without it."
Sam stopped abruptly, kneeling to the ground. "Speaking of magic…" He placed his hand on the soil, and the earth shifted beneath his touch. A small mound rose, twisting and shaping itself into the form of a bear. The children gasped as the tiny bear moved its head before crumbling back into the dirt.
"Can I do that?" Sparks asked, her voice filled with awe.
"With practice," Sam said, standing. "Magic takes time and focus."
Greaves held out his hand, the air around it growing colder. A small shard of ice materialized in his palm, catching the moonlight before he flicked it toward Sparks. It landed on her nose, making her giggle.
"Time and focus," Greaves echoed, his tone lighter. "And maybe a little fun."
The children marveled at the display, but Zara's gaze lingered on Lera. "Miss Lera… why don't you use magic like them?"
Lera hesitated, her steps slowing. "The night we found you, I had a dream. Aelon spoke to me. He gave me your names and showed me your marks. That's when I gained the ability to make barriers—to protect you."
Greaves stopped, turning to face her with wide eyes. "Wait… Aelon spoke to you? And you didn't think to mention that before?"
"I didn't know how to explain it," Lera admitted, her voice quiet. "It wasn't a conversation. It was more… a feeling. Like I just knew what to do."
Darnell whistled softly. "That's… something. You've been holding out on us, Lera."
Lera gave a small, nervous laugh, but her expression turned thoughtful. "It's strange, though. That night, everything changed. I just… trusted Aelon. Trusted that he knew what he was doing."
The group fell silent as they approached the final bend in the path. The shrine came into view, standing tall and weathered among the trees. Its stone walls glowed faintly, the carvings etched into its surface pulsing like a heartbeat.
Greaves exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the chill of the air. "Still as breathtaking as ever."
Lera placed her hand on the ancient stone steps, her voice a whisper. "And still waiting."
Sparks reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing against one of the glowing carvings. "It feels… alive," she murmured.
The silence in the grove was almost deafening as the group stepped closer to the remnants of Aelon's shrine. The air was thick with an energy that seemed to settle in their bones, and even the chirping of insects faded into a distant hum. Darnell stood still, his eyes fixed on the crumbled remains of the once-grand statue that had dominated the shrine's center. Only a paw remained, weathered by time but still radiating a faint, unyielding presence.
He knelt, brushing a hand over the ancient stone offerings scattered at the base of the statue. Faded flowers, rusted coins, and crumbling beads told stories of devotion long forgotten. "So this is where Aelon stood," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Lera approached quietly, her gaze soft as she looked at him. "It's strange, isn't it? Even in ruins, it feels... alive."
Darnell nodded but didn't speak, his fingers lingering on the cold stone. Behind them, the others explored the grove in hushed awe. Sam ran a hand along the engraved pillars, muttering to himself about the craftsmanship, while Greaves walked the perimeter, his brow furrowed in thought.
Alistair, however, felt an inexplicable pull toward the shattered remains of the statue. He drifted toward Darnell, his small hand reaching out to touch the same spot on the stone. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, a soft warmth bloomed in his chest, spreading outward from his mark. He froze, his breath catching.
"Alistair?" Darnell asked, noticing the boy's sudden stillness.
Alistair didn't respond. His vision blurred, the world around him fading until it was just him and the faint glow emanating from the stone. A deep, resonant voice filled his mind, clear and commanding yet kind.
"Alistair," the voice said, echoing in his thoughts. "You have arrived far earlier than I expected."
Alistair's mouth moved, but no sound came out. He wasn't speaking—at least not aloud. Who... who are you?
The voice chuckled softly. "You already know who I am. I am Aelon, the one who marked you."
Alistair's eyes widened. Aelon... this is your shrine, isn't it?
"It was," Aelon said, his tone tinged with sorrow. "But time has not been kind to my legacy. My power wanes, as does the memory of my name. Yet here you are, with so many others. I had not foreseen this happening so soon."
Alistair swallowed hard. Why me? Why us? What are we supposed to do?
"You are chosen, Alistair you and your friends. Not just by me, but by fate itself," Aelon replied. "You and your friends carry a spark that can reignite what was lost. My time in this world is drawing to an end, but before I fade, I have a request."
What kind of request? Alistair asked, his chest tightening.
"Bring life back to this shrine," Aelon said, his voice firm yet pleading. "Restore it. Give it purpose once more. This is not just for me but for the balance of this world. Will you do this, Alistair?"
The boy hesitated, the weight of the words pressing down on him. I... I don't know if I can. But I'll try.
"That is all I ask," Aelon said, his voice softening. "You will not walk this path alone. Your friends, your bonds—they are your strength. Trust in them, as I trust in you."
Before Alistair could respond, the warmth faded, and the voice was gone. He blinked, the world snapping back into focus. Darnell was staring at him, his brow furrowed with concern.
"Alistair?" Darnell asked again. "Are you okay?"
"I..." Alistair began, but before he could finish, a soft chime filled the air. It wasn't from the grove—it was inside his head. The familiar sound of the status menu.
A translucent screen appeared before him, but this time, it wasn't his alone. Around him, every person in the grove gasped as their own status menus appeared, displaying the same message:
---
New Quest Received: Restore Aelon's Shrine
Objective: Rebuild and restore the shrine of the old god Aelon.
Rewards: Unknown.
Progress: 0%.
---
The adults exchanged stunned glances, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief. Greaves was the first to speak, his voice low. "A quest? I've... I've never seen one before. Not in all my years."
"Neither have I," Darnell admitted, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "This isn't normal. Quests... they're supposed to be a myth."
Lera's hands trembled as she stared at the glowing text. "It's real," she whispered. "Aelon's request... it's real."
"What does it mean?" Sparks asked, her small voice breaking through the silence.
The children looked at each other, their marks faintly glowing. Even Zara, usually calm and composed, seemed unsettled.
Ox broke the tension with a snort. "Bigger or not, we can do it. Right, Alistair?"
Alistair hesitated, his gaze flicking back to the remains of the statue. He felt the weight of Aelon's words lingering in his mind. Finally, he nodded, his voice steady despite his uncertainty. "We'll do it. We'll bring the shrine back."
The adults exchanged another round of glances before Lera placed a hand on Alistair's shoulder, her expression firm. "If this is what Aelon wants, then we'll help you. All of us."
"Agreed," Greaves said, his lips curling into a faint smile. "Though I can't promise I'll be much help with the rebuilding part."
Sam chuckled softly. "Leave the rebuilding to me. But... this is going to take more than just a few hands. We'll need supplies, tools, and... guidance."
The group stood in quiet resolve, the faint glow of the quest still lingering in their vision. For the first time in years, the grove felt alive again, as if the remnants of Aelon's power were stirring to life.
Alistair turned back to the statue, a new determination in his eyes. We'll do this, Aelon.