Alden stared at the book, his pulse hammering in his ears. The thing looked… alive. Shadows slithered across its surface like serpents, whispering words he couldn't understand. The symbols on its cover pulsed in an uneven rhythm, as though the book itself had a heartbeat.
The stranger stood beside him, silent, waiting.
Alden clenched his fists. He knew the moment he touched it, there would be no turning back. But had he ever truly belonged to the simple life of Eldoria? Hadn't he always felt there was something more—something hidden beneath the quiet normalcy of the town?
He took a breath and reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the book's surface, the room exploded with light. A rush of power surged through him, flooding his mind with knowledge too vast to contain. He staggered back, gasping, but the book clung to his palm, as though it had fused to his very being.
Visions flared through his mind.
A castle shrouded in mist, its towers crumbling under an unseen force.
A war long forgotten, where shadows and flame clashed in the sky.
A throne of black stone, empty… waiting.
And then—
A figure standing at the end of a vast hall, draped in midnight robes. Their face was obscured, but their eyes burned with an eerie silver light. They raised a hand, and Alden felt himself being pulled forward, toward them, toward something ancient and hungry—
Then it was gone.
The chamber snapped back into focus, the torchlight flickering as if disturbed by an unseen wind. Alden collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. His skin felt like it was burning from the inside out, yet there were no flames.
The stranger knelt beside him. "You saw, didn't you?"
Alden nodded weakly. His entire body trembled. "What… what was that?"
"The past. The future. The truth." The stranger studied him carefully. "The Book of Shadows has chosen you. That mark on your hand—" They nodded toward his palm, where the golden sigil still burned faintly. "It is proof that you are bound to its power."
Alden forced himself to his feet. "Bound? What does that mean?"
The stranger hesitated. For the first time, Alden saw something almost like hesitation in their expression. "It means you cannot run from this. The Arcane Throne is stirring, and so are those who seek it."
Alden's mouth went dry. "You said that before… that someone else was looking for the Mark. Who?"
The stranger's silver eyes darkened. "The Order of the Hollow."
A cold chill ran down Alden's spine. He had never heard of them before, but something in the way the stranger spoke the name made his blood turn to ice.
"They are the remnants of the old war," the stranger continued. "Sworn to reclaim the throne by any means necessary. If they learn that you have the Mark…"
Alden didn't need them to finish. He understood perfectly.
"They'll come for me."
The stranger nodded. "And they won't stop until they have you."
Silence hung between them, heavy and unspoken. Alden glanced down at the Book of Shadows, now still in his hands. It no longer pulsed or writhed—it was quiet, waiting.
Something inside him, something deeper than fear, settled into resolve. He had spent his entire life in Eldoria feeling like he didn't belong, searching for something beyond the quiet existence he had been given. Now, that "something" had found him.
He straightened his shoulders. "Then I guess I don't have a choice."
The stranger studied him for a long moment before giving a slight nod.
"No," they said. "You don't."
And far beyond the chamber, past the walls of Eldoria, in the ruins of a long-forgotten kingdom… someone else was watching.
Waiting.
And they had already begun to move.