The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh-cut hay. Redbrook Village was settling down for the night—children were called inside, the last lanterns were lit, and the rhythmic chirping of crickets filled the silence.
Kael sat on the worn wooden steps of his cottage, his hands resting on his knees. His muscles ached from hauling sacks of grain to the mill earlier, but the exhaustion was familiar, almost comforting.
This was his life. Hard work, sweat, and aching limbs. A routine he had never questioned.
And yet, tonight, something felt different.
A strange unease prickled at the back of his mind.
It wasn't fear, exactly. More like… a sense of something missing. Like he had forgotten something important—but couldn't quite grasp what.
Kael exhaled, watching his breath mist in the night air. Maybe he was just tired.
Across the road, the blacksmith's forge had gone dark, its fires reduced to faint embers. The village tavern, The Drunken Boar, was still lively—laughter and the occasional clatter of mugs echoed from inside. The sound should have been comforting. Familiar.
But instead, it felt distant.
Like he didn't belong.
Flickers of the Unseen
Kael ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
He had always been different from the others.
Not in any obvious way. He looked the same as any other villager—brown hair, rough hands from labor, clothes patched and worn from years of use.
But sometimes… he would know things he shouldn't.
The first time it happened, he was five years old. He had watched old man Gared struggle to fix a broken wagon wheel. Without thinking, he had walked up and pointed out that the axle needed reinforcement—describing a method neither he nor anyone in the village should have known.
Gared had laughed it off. "Maybe you're just sharper than the rest of us."
But things like that kept happening.
He could instinctively understand numbers and patterns far beyond a simple farm boy's education. He would sometimes see a place in his dreams—a vast hall lined with books, filled with a knowledge he couldn't reach. He never quite felt like he belonged in Redbrook, no matter how much time passed.
He had learned to keep quiet about it. It wasn't worth the odd looks.
Still, tonight, that strange feeling was worse than ever.
Kael rubbed his temples. Maybe some fresh air would help.
Just as he stood, a gust of wind swept through the village. The lanterns flickered. The crickets went silent.
And then—
"…Kael…?"
The voice was barely more than a whisper, but it was clear as day.
Kael froze. His heart pounded against his ribs.
The voice… it didn't come from behind him. Or from the tavern.
It came from within his own mind.
His breath caught. He turned sharply, scanning the village. Nothing. No one was there.
And yet, the whisper had felt familiar. Like someone he had once known.
Then, his vision blurred.
For a single heartbeat, he wasn't in Redbrook anymore.
Instead, he stood in a vast stone hall—the walls lined with towering bookshelves, torches flickering with cold, blue fire. The air was heavy with the scent of parchment and something… ancient.
He had been here before.
Somewhere deep in his mind, he knew that.
A shiver ran down his spine as the whispers returned, echoing from the unseen corridors.
"Do you remember?"
Kael's knees nearly buckled. His head pounded, flashes of light and shadow twisting behind his eyes.
Then, the whispers merged into a single word.
A name.
"…Eliard."
Kael staggered back, gasping as the vision shattered.
The village returned in an instant—the tavern noise, the crickets, the cool night air.
But the name still echoed in his mind.
"Eliard."
Kael swallowed hard. He had never heard that name before.
And yet, something about it made his chest tighten, like a part of him had been missing all this time.
"Who… what was that?"
He pressed a hand to his forehead. His breathing was unsteady, but his thoughts raced.
Was that a memory? A dream? A vision?
His instincts screamed that it wasn't just his imagination.
Kael clenched his fists. He needed to know more.
Tomorrow, he would start searching for answers.
Even if he had to dig up secrets that were never meant to be found.
To Be Continued…