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The Stranger's Gaze
Eryndor stood frozen in place.
Across the village square, beneath the dim glow of lanterns, the hooded figure remained unmoving. The air felt colder, heavier. Though the figure's face was hidden, Eryndor knew they were staring directly at him.
"Who are they?"
The moment stretched, the village sounds fading into the background. Then, without a word, the stranger turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Eryndor exhaled, unaware he had been holding his breath. A deep, uneasy feeling settled in his chest.
"They were watching me. Why?"
His thoughts raced as he hurried home, but one thing was certain—whoever that person was, they weren't here by accident.
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A Warning from Eldrin
The next morning, Eryndor made his way to Eldrin's study. He needed answers.
The old mage looked exhausted, as if he hadn't slept in days. His brows furrowed when he saw Eryndor.
"You look troubled," Eldrin said.
"Someone was watching me last night," Eryndor replied. "A hooded figure. They didn't say anything, just… stared."
Eldrin stiffened. His fingers tapped against the wooden table, his mind working fast.
"It's too soon," he muttered.
Eryndor frowned. "Too soon for what?"
Eldrin sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Eryndor, listen carefully. There are forces in this world that seek things they shouldn't. Power, knowledge, lost relics of the past… and people like you."
Eryndor's stomach twisted.
"Like me?"
Eldrin nodded.
"I told you before—your magic isn't normal. That black aura, the power locked inside you… it shouldn't exist anymore. But it does. And that means there are those who will want it."
A heavy silence settled between them.
"Are they dangerous?" Eryndor asked.
Eldrin's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Yes. Very."
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The Return of the Watcher
That evening, Eryndor couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Even as he sat at the dinner table with his parents, their warmth and laughter felt distant. His mind was elsewhere.
Then, as the night deepened, it happened again.
A presence.
From his bedroom window, he saw the figure again—standing at the edge of the village, half-hidden in the trees. Their posture was relaxed, almost patient.
This time, Eryndor felt something else. A pull. A whisper, deep in his mind.
"Come."
His breath hitched. His fingers gripped the windowsill.
"No."
He willed himself to step back, to look away—but his body refused to listen. His hand moved toward the latch, his legs ready to walk.
The whisper grew louder.
"Come to me."
A sharp knock on the door broke the trance.
His father's voice snapped him back to reality. "Eryndor? You should be asleep."
He turned, heart pounding.
"Y-Yeah. I'm going now."
When he glanced back at the window, the figure was gone.
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A Shadow in the Night
The following day, Eldrin's warnings rang louder in his head. Eryndor made a decision—he needed to confront the stranger.
As the village settled into sleep, he slipped out of his home and walked toward the edge of the forest.
"If they come again… I'll be ready."
The night air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth. Eryndor stood beneath a lone oak tree, his heartbeat steady. Minutes passed. Then an hour.
Nothing.
Just as he was about to turn back, a soft rustling came from the darkness.
Then, a voice. Low. Unfamiliar.
"You finally came."
Eryndor spun around. The hooded figure stepped forward, their movements eerily smooth. Even in the dim moonlight, Eryndor could see a faint glint beneath the hood—eyes watching him intently.
"Who are you?" Eryndor demanded.
The stranger chuckled. "The wrong question."
Eryndor clenched his fists. "Then what's the right one?"
The figure tilted their head.
"What are you?"
A chill ran down his spine.
"What…?"
The stranger took another step forward.
"You're not just a child, are you?"
Eryndor's breath caught in his throat. His instincts screamed danger, but something about the stranger felt familiar.
Like he had met them before.
The figure stopped just a few feet away.
"The world is waiting for your return, Eryndor Valesh."
Eryndor's blood turned to ice.
"Return? What do you—"
Before he could finish, the figure raised a hand. A pulse of energy rushed toward him—dark, suffocating. His vision blurred, his knees buckled.
Then, everything went black.
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End of Chapter 3
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