The sky above Brindlemark churned with dark, turbulent clouds, their edges tinged with a faint violet glow. The air was heavy, carrying the faint metallic tang of the Abyssal Shard's energy. The villagers moved through their routines with quiet urgency, their steps brisk as if trying to outrun the storm that always seemed to linger on the horizon.
Eryndor sat on the outskirts of the village, perched on a flat rock overlooking the wasteland beyond. The sharp wind tugged at his thin frame, but he barely noticed. His notebook lay open on his lap, filled with fresh sketches of the shard and the strange visions it had shown him. Yet today, his mind was too restless to focus.
The questions gnawed at him. What were the visions trying to tell him? What was the colossal figure he'd seen, wreathed in shadows? And why did he feel as if the shard was waiting for something—or someone?
He was so lost in thought that he almost didn't notice the figure approaching from the west, silhouetted against the darkening horizon. It wasn't a villager; that much was clear. The man's gait was purposeful but unsteady, as though he had traveled a great distance. A long cloak hung from his shoulders, tattered at the edges, and a faint glow emanated from the satchel slung across his chest.
Eryndor's pulse quickened. Outsiders were rare in Brindlemark, and they seldom came with good news. He scrambled to his feet, his curiosity warring with caution.
The stranger came closer, and Eryndor could make out his features. He was middle-aged, with a face weathered by time and hardship. His eyes, however, were sharp and piercing, glowing faintly with a dark, silvery light—the mark of a practitioner.
"You there, boy," the man called, his voice hoarse but steady. "Is this Brindlemark?"
Eryndor nodded, his words caught in his throat.
The man's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Good. I've come far to find this place."
Eryndor's curiosity finally got the better of him. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice wavering. "Why are you here?"
The man's smile faded. He glanced toward the village, his expression unreadable. "My name is Kaelen. I'm a seeker—a practitioner of the Unified Path. And I've come to warn you."
Eryndor led Kaelen to the central square, where Elder Thorne and a group of villagers had already gathered, their faces tense with apprehension. The outsider's presence had spread quickly, and whispers filled the air as the villagers speculated about his purpose.
Kaelen stood before the crowd, his posture straight despite the weariness in his eyes. "Your shard," he began without preamble, his voice cutting through the murmurs, "is drawing attention."
Elder Thorne stepped forward, his cane tapping against the stone ground. "We are well aware of the dangers the shard attracts, stranger. Brindlemark has stood for generations. What makes this time any different?"
Kaelen's gaze hardened. "Because the creatures it draws are changing. The Abyssal Beasts grow stronger, more cunning. And they're being drawn not just to shards, but to practitioners."
The crowd stirred uneasily. Kaelen continued, his voice firm. "I've seen it myself. Packs of beasts attacking settlements, their movements coordinated, their attacks deliberate. They're hunting us. And they're only getting stronger."
Elder Thorne's grip tightened on his cane. "What would you have us do? Abandon the shard and leave our home? That is not an option."
Kaelen shook his head. "I'm not asking you to abandon it. But you must prepare. The shard's energy is a beacon, and it won't be long before something far worse than a pack of beasts comes looking for it."
As the villagers debated Kaelen's words, Eryndor stood on the fringes, his mind racing. This man, a practitioner of the Unified Path, had seen things Eryndor could only imagine. The way he spoke of the beasts, the shard, and the energy—it was with the authority of someone who understood.
When the meeting finally ended, the villagers dispersing with heavy hearts, Eryndor followed Kaelen as he made his way to the edge of the square.
"Wait," Eryndor called, his voice trembling slightly. "I—I have questions."
Kaelen turned, raising an eyebrow. "Questions, huh? You don't strike me as a practitioner, boy. Why do you care?"
Eryndor hesitated, clutching his notebook tightly. "I... I want to understand the shard. And the whispers. I think it's trying to tell me something."
For the first time, Kaelen looked genuinely intrigued. He stepped closer, his piercing gaze studying Eryndor. "You've heard the whispers?"
Eryndor nodded. "They're faint, but sometimes I feel like I can almost understand them. And when I touched the shard, I saw... things."
Kaelen's expression darkened. "Visions from the shard can be dangerous. They reveal much but demand much in return. Tell me, boy, what did you see?"
Eryndor hesitated, then described the void, the light shattering into shards, and the shadowed figure. Kaelen listened intently, his brow furrowing deeper with each word.
"That figure you saw," Kaelen said at last, his voice low. "It could be a memory of the Abyssal Core itself. Or it could be something far worse."
Eryndor's heart raced. "Worse? What do you mean?"
Kaelen sighed, glancing toward the shard. "The Core isn't just a source of power—it's a living force, with its own will and purpose. If it's reaching out to you, it means you've caught its attention. And that's both a blessing and a curse."
Eryndor swallowed hard, his hands trembling. "What should I do?"
Kaelen placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm. "Learn. Understand. But tread carefully, boy. The Unified Path is not for the faint of heart. If you truly wish to follow it, you must be prepared to face whatever lies ahead."
Eryndor nodded, his resolve hardening. He didn't know what the future held, but one thing was certain. He wouldn't run from it.
As Kaelen turned to leave, he glanced back at Eryndor. "If you survive the coming storm, seek me out. There's more to the shard's whispers than you realize. And if you're willing to listen, I'll show you the path."
With that, the man disappeared into the darkness, leaving Eryndor standing alone beneath the shard's faint glow, his heart pounding with both fear and determination.