The Fear in Eldrin's Eyes
Silence filled the dimly lit study.
Eryndor's small fingers trembled as he pulled them away from the crystal, its surface still glowing with unnatural black light. His head throbbed, a deep pain searing through his mind as fragmented images flashed before him—blood-soaked battlefields, ancient ruins, a throne wreathed in shadow.
"What… was that?"
Across from him, Eldrin Faelor, the village's elder mage, stared at him as if he were a monster. His face, usually calm and unreadable, had twisted into one of fear.
"This magic…" Eldrin muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "It shouldn't exist anymore."
Eryndor, still gasping for breath, looked at him in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
Eldrin hesitated. He turned away, his aged hands gripping the wooden desk. His mind raced. A child… no, a mere toddler manifesting that aura? This was something that hadn't been seen for centuries. And the last time it was…
"No," Eldrin murmured to himself. "It can't be."
He turned back to Eryndor, his gaze sharp but controlled.
"Tell me, boy," he said carefully. "Have you… seen things? Memories that don't belong to you?"
Eryndor's heart pounded. How could this old man know? He clenched his small fists and gave the safest answer he could.
"I have dreams."
Eldrin's expression darkened.
"Dreams?" he repeated.
"Of another life."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Eldrin exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. He needed time—time to understand what he had just witnessed. He couldn't afford to act recklessly. If the village knew about this, panic would spread.
"Eryndor," he said after a long silence. "Tell no one about what happened here. Not your parents, not your friends. No one."
The young boy frowned.
"Why?"
"Because there are people in this world who would kill for power like yours."
Eryndor felt a chill run through him.
"Go home," Eldrin ordered. "We will speak again soon."
The boy hesitated but nodded. He turned and left, feeling the old mage's gaze on his back the entire way.
As soon as the door shut, Eldrin collapsed into his chair, rubbing his temples.
"A child bearing the Shadow's power… if the wrong people find out, the world will burn once more."
---
A Dangerous Interest
As Eryndor returned home, his mind swirled with questions. What had Eldrin seen? Why was he so afraid? And what was this power that was supposedly impossible?
For days, he said nothing. He kept up his usual routine, playing the role of an innocent child in front of his parents. But at night, the dreams became worse. More vivid.
One night, he stood in an endless black void, staring up at a massive, looming gate. Ancient symbols were etched into its surface, glowing faintly. The air was thick, suffocating.
Then, the whisper came.
"Awaken."
Eryndor jolted awake, gasping for air. He clutched his chest, sweat drenching his small body.
"What… is happening to me?"
---
A Visitor in the Village
A week later, whispers spread through Valmere. A stranger had arrived—an outsider, cloaked in a long black robe, their face hidden beneath a hood.
They spoke to no one. They merely watched.
Eryndor's father, Dorian Valesh, was the first to notice.
"Strangers don't come to Valmere without reason," he told his wife, Elara. "I don't like it."
The villagers were uneasy. But the stranger did nothing, said nothing. They only observed.
And one night, as Eryndor played outside, he felt it—a presence.
He turned, his breath hitching. Across the village square, the hooded figure stood still, their gaze locked onto him.
Even from a distance, Eryndor felt it deep in his soul.
They were here for him.
---
End of chapter 2