Chapter 1
The Awakening.
The sun was setting over the quiet town of Brienne, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Alaric leaned over a dusty tome in the library, his brow furrowed in concentration. The smell of aged parchment filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of candle wax. He had been poring over ancient manuscripts for hours, his search for something—anything—extraordinary driving him.
Alaric wasn't like the other scholars at the Academy. While they contented themselves with studying politics, philosophy, and history, Alaric had always been drawn to the mystical, the unexplained. Tales of forgotten cities, ancient relics, and lost civilizations fascinated him. His hunger for knowledge often led him to this secluded library on the edge of town, a place most had long forgotten.
It was here, in the dim light of a flickering lantern, that he stumbled upon a book bound in cracked, dark leather. Its spine was unmarked, and the title was absent. The edges of the pages were frayed, as though it had survived centuries of neglect. Alaric's fingers trembled as he opened it, revealing an intricate map drawn in ink that seemed to shimmer under the light.
The map depicted a land he didn't recognize, but at its center was a name that sent a thrill through his veins: Eldarath. He had heard whispers of the name before, in the fragmented accounts of travelers and the cryptic notes of forgotten scholars. Eldarath was said to be a city of unparalleled magic, a place where the laws of nature bent to the will of its inhabitants. But most dismissed it as a myth, a story told to children.
His heart raced as he turned the pages, each one revealing more about the city's history. The text spoke of powerful wizards, ancient wars, and a cataclysm that caused Eldarath to vanish from the world. But it was the final passage that caught his attention:
"He who dares seek Eldarath must awaken the three keys and face the trials of the lost city. For within its walls lies not only untold power but also the truth that shapes the world."
The words were accompanied by a strange symbol: three interlocking circles surrounding a single eye. Alaric traced the symbol with his finger, feeling an inexplicable pull, as though the book itself was calling to him.
Just as he was about to delve deeper, the sound of heavy boots echoed through the library. Startled, Alaric slammed the book shut and shoved it into his satchel. He turned to see the librarian, an elderly man named Corwin, standing at the end of the aisle.
"What are you doing here so late?" Corwin asked, his voice gruff but tinged with curiosity.
Alaric hesitated. "Just researching," he replied, his tone casual. "I lost track of time."
Corwin's gaze lingered on him for a moment before he nodded. "Be careful with those old books," he said. "Some knowledge is best left forgotten."
Alaric forced a smile, but his mind was already elsewhere. He left the library quickly, the book weighing heavily in his satchel. The cold night air bit at his face as he made his way home, his thoughts consumed by Eldarath. What were the three keys? What trials awaited those who sought the city? And why did he feel as though he had been chosen?
That night, Alaric couldn't sleep. The book lay open on his desk, its pages illuminated by the soft glow of a lantern. He studied the map intently, noting the landmarks and strange symbols scattered across it. He began to piece together a route, his excitement growing with each discovery.
Suddenly, a faint whisper filled the room. Alaric froze, his hand hovering over the map. The whisper grew louder, forming words he couldn't quite understand. It was coming from the book.
"Who's there?" he demanded, his voice steady despite the fear creeping into his chest.
The whisper stopped, replaced by an eerie silence. Then, as if compelled by an unseen force, the pages of the book flipped on their own. They stopped at an illustration of a massive stone door, covered in the same interlocking circles he had seen earlier. Beneath the image were the words: The First Key Awaits.
Before he could react, the lantern flickered violently and went out, plunging the room into darkness. A chill swept through the air, and Alaric felt an unseen presence. He reached for the lantern, but his fingers brushed against something cold and metallic instead. He recoiled, his breath quickening.
The metallic object began to glow faintly, revealing itself to be a small, ornate key. Alaric's mind raced. Was this one of the three keys mentioned in the book? How had it appeared?
As he held the key, a vision flashed before his eyes. He saw a towering mountain shrouded in mist, a dense forest teeming with shadows, and a sprawling city of silver and gold. He saw figures cloaked in darkness, their eyes glowing with malice, and heard the deafening roar of a battle. The vision ended as abruptly as it began, leaving him breathless.
The key in his hand pulsed with a faint energy, as though it were alive. Alaric knew he couldn't ignore the calling. Eldarath wasn't just a legend—it was real, and it was waiting for him.
The next morning, Alaric prepared for his journey. He packed the essentials: food, water, a map of the known regions, and the mysterious book. He also took a dagger for protection, though he doubted it would be much help against whatever dangers lay ahead.
As he left Brienne, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. The streets were unusually quiet, and the few people he passed avoided meeting his gaze. Even the birds seemed to have fallen silent.
He reached the outskirts of town and followed the path outlined in the book. It led him through dense forests and over rolling hills, each step taking him farther from the familiar. As night fell, he made camp near a small stream, his thoughts racing.
The fire crackled softly, casting dancing shadows on the trees. Alaric pulled out the book and studied it once more. The map seemed to change slightly, as though guiding him toward the first key. He traced his route with a finger, stopping at a point marked by the symbol of an eye.
Suddenly, a low growl broke the silence. Alaric's hand went to his dagger as he scanned the darkness. The growl grew louder, and he realized it was coming from multiple directions. He stood, his heart pounding.
From the shadows emerged a pack of creatures unlike anything he had ever seen. They resembled wolves, but their eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and their bodies seemed to shift and blur, as though they were not entirely of this world.
The largest of the creatures stepped forward, its teeth bared. Alaric tightened his grip on the dagger, but before he could react, the key in his pocket began to glow. The creatures hesitated, their glowing eyes fixed on the light.
Alaric felt a surge of energy course through him. Without thinking, he raised the key, and a blinding beam of light shot from it, scattering the creatures. They howled in pain and vanished into the night, leaving Alaric alone and trembling.
He sank to his knees, the key still warm in his hand. Whatever magic was tied to Eldarath, it was far more powerful—and dangerous—than he had imagined. But there was no turning back now. The journey had begun, and the first key had awakened.