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The journey had begun.
Rylan's steps were slow at first, hesitant, as if the very earth beneath him was testing his resolve. The path leading out of Eldrigg was little more than a narrow dirt trail, barely wide enough for a single traveler. On either side, the forest loomed—dense, ancient trees with thick branches that intertwined overhead, casting long shadows even in the early morning light. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, as if the forest was holding its breath.
The first few miles were uneventful, though every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig beneath his feet, made Rylan's heart skip in his chest. It wasn't the forest itself that unnerved him; it was the feeling that he wasn't truly alone. There was something watching him, something far older than any mortal, perhaps far older than the gods themselves.
He shook the thought away. The Sigil had called him. There was no turning back now.
The old woman had said the winds would guide him, but so far, the path seemed only to wind deeper into the forest, away from civilization. Rylan had no map, no compass, only his instincts and the vague directions she had given him. He didn't even know where the Cradle of Time was, only that it existed somewhere far to the north, beyond the endless forest, and that the First Thread awaited him there.
As he walked, the stillness of the woods began to wear on him. His feet ached, his body fatigued from the weight of his pack and the uncertainty of his path. With every step, his doubt grew, gnawing at the edges of his mind.
What if the Cradle didn't exist? What if the Sigil was nothing more than a myth, a tale spun by old women to entertain the weak-hearted? What if—what if he wasn't strong enough? What if he failed?
The weight of those thoughts felt unbearable, and for a moment, Rylan considered stopping. He could turn back, return to the simplicity of his old life, before fate and the gods had tangled his threads. He had known that life. It was painful, yes, but it was safe.
But something deep within him—something primal—pushed him forward. He couldn't explain it, but he knew. He wasn't meant to go back. Not now. Not when the Sigil had already marked him. Not when the winds had already begun to change.
Suddenly, the wind shifted. It picked up in intensity, swirling around him in a vortex of soft whispers, as if calling his name. The feeling was so strong, so undeniable, that he stopped in his tracks and stood perfectly still, listening.
For a brief, fleeting moment, it felt as though the forest itself was alive. Not just in the physical sense, but in the spiritual—like the trees, the earth, even the very air, was watching him. And then, as though in response to his awareness, a figure emerged from the shadows.
It was a woman, tall and slender, with long dark hair that flowed like a river of midnight. Her skin was pale, almost ghostly, and her eyes—eyes that glowed faintly with an eerie blue light—pierced into Rylan's very soul. She wore a cloak of tattered black fabric, almost blending in with the shadows of the trees. Her presence was both alluring and terrifying, as though she were not quite part of this world.
"You are far from home, young Sigil-bearer," her voice was soft, but it carried with the weight of the earth itself. It was as if the very trees bent to hear her speak. "Do you seek the Cradle of Time?"
Rylan froze. His mind raced, his pulse quickening. There was no mistaking it now—this was no ordinary wanderer. This woman… she was something else entirely. She had the air of someone who had seen centuries pass by, someone who knew the secrets of the world itself.
"I—I do," he stammered. "But how do you know—?"
"The winds speak," she interrupted, her gaze never wavering from his. "And the Sigil calls. It always calls, in ways we do not understand. The question is, Sigil-bearer, will you answer?"
Rylan's throat tightened. "What do you mean by 'Sigil-bearer'?"
The woman smiled, though it was not a kind smile. It was a smile laced with something dangerous, something otherworldly. "You seek the First Thread, do you not? The Cradle of Time is but one part of the path that awaits you. You are bound to the Sigil, and the Sigil is bound to you. There is no escaping it."
She stepped closer, her movements fluid, like a shadow moving within shadows. Rylan instinctively took a step back, his heart pounding.
"You will find what you seek," she said, "but the question remains: What will you sacrifice to obtain it? The Sigil demands more than you can imagine, Sigil-bearer. Do you understand the cost?"
Rylan didn't answer. He couldn't. The words seemed to hang in the air like a sword above his head, and for the first time, he felt the weight of the true nature of his journey. It was not just a path of power, of ascension—it was a path of destruction. A path of choice.
"You will face trials that will tear at your very soul," the woman continued. "And not all who seek the Cradle survive."
Her gaze softened, and for a brief moment, she seemed less like a shadow, more like a mortal. She gave a slight nod, as if in understanding.
"Good luck, Sigil-bearer," she said, her tone now almost pitying. "May you be strong enough to face the choices ahead."
With that, she turned and melted back into the shadows of the forest, disappearing without a trace.
Rylan stood there, frozen in place, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The Sigil had called him, but he hadn't truly understood what that meant until now. Power? Yes. Ascension? Perhaps. But it came with a price, a price he couldn't yet fathom.
The wind died down, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake. Rylan breathed deeply, trying to steady himself. He was alone again, the weight of the world pressing down on him.
He glanced back toward the village, which was now nothing more than a distant blur behind the trees. He could turn back. He could leave this madness behind.
But something deep inside him, a flicker of defiance, told him he could not. Not now.
Rylan turned his back on the village and took the first step into the unknown.
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The road ahead was uncertain, and the Cradle of Time was still far away.
But Rylan had made his choice.
And with that choice, his fate had already been sealed.
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