Kael’s eyes fluttered open as the morning light crept through the wooden shutters of his small room. The familiar scent of bread baking in the kitchen wafted up to greet him. He stretched lazily, his thoughts still swirling with the strange, cryptic message of the traveler from days prior.
His usual morning routine followed—helping his mother prepare breakfast, joking with his siblings, and enduring his father’s half-serious reminders to "work harder than you dream." Yet, beneath the surface, Kael’s curiosity itched like a thorn. Today, he would search for answers.
---
The village square buzzed with life as Kael strolled through its crowded streets. He stopped at the baker’s stall, picked up some fresh loaves, and exchanged quick pleasantries with the blacksmith before moving on.
As he turned a corner near the old well, a boy around his age sat on a low stone wall, sketching furiously into a notebook. His dark hair hung messily over his eyes, which were locked in concentration. A small pile of books sat beside him, most worn and covered in dust.
Curious, Kael paused.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Hey, what are you working on?” he asked, setting down his bag.
The boy looked up, startled but intrigued. “It’s... well, it’s a map,” he said, holding up the notebook to reveal a rough sketch of the region.
Kael frowned, noticing the precise detail in the drawing. “That’s pretty good. What’s it for?”
The boy grinned. “History. Did you know this village used to be a major trading hub during the rise of the great Vodarkian Empire? There are ruins just a mile west of here, buried under the fields.”
“Vodarkian Empire?” Kael repeated, his heart skipping a beat. The name sounded familiar—something he’d heard in passing from travelers or the stories his father occasionally shared.
“Yes! And their king—Khafel Vodark—he was unmatched. A warrior like no other.”
Kael froze. The name sent a shiver down his spine. His brow furrowed as he asked, “King Khafel? You know about him?”
Dren’s eyes lit up, mistaking Kael’s suspicion for shared enthusiasm. “Of course! There are so many legends about him. They say he was invincible, leading armies that reshaped the world. Some people even think his bloodline still exists, though it’s impossible to prove.”
Kael didn’t respond right away. The idea gnawed at him, leaving an unease he couldn’t shake. “Where’d you hear all that?”
Dren shrugged, pulling one of the dusty books from his pile. “Old stories, mostly. A few carvings and relics too. It’s amazing what you can find when you dig deep enough."
Kael nodded slowly. “Yeah... I guess it is.”
---
The conversation didn’t last long after that, but Dren’s words lingered with Kael as he returned home. The name “Khafel Vodark” echoed in his mind, pulling at threads of memory he couldn’t quite grasp.
That evening, Kael sat quietly at the dinner table, listening to his siblings chatter and his parents discuss the upcoming harvest. Yet, his thoughts were far away, circling the strange feeling that the traveler, the empire, and now this boy might all be connected.
As the sun set, Kael glanced out the window, the faint outline of the forest on the horizon. Somewhere out there, answers waited—if only he could piece them together.