The sun’s warm glow peeked through the curtains of Kael’s room, chasing away the lingering chill of the previous storm. As the village began to stir, Kael knew his usual morning tasks awaited him. The events of the past day still lingered in his mind—the storm, the fleeting vision, and the artifact he had stumbled upon in the market.

Kael rose, shaking off his thoughts, and prepared for his usual trip to the village square. He was eager to find Dren, not just to share the discovery, but also to distract himself from the growing tension at home.

As Kael navigated the bustling square, his attention was caught by a rhythmic twang echoing from the edge of the village. Curious, he wandered closer and found a girl, about his age, practicing with a bow.

She stood tall, her auburn braid swaying as she loosed another arrow at a worn target pinned to a tree. Each shot landed close to the bullseye, her precision impressive. Kael couldn’t help but linger, his curiosity growing.

Before he could slip away unnoticed, a familiar voice called out behind him.

“Kael! There you are! You’ve got to meet her!” Dren’s excitement was palpable as he bounded over, waving toward the archer. The girl lowered her bow and turned, her sharp green eyes locking onto Kael.

“This is Lyra,” Dren introduced proudly. “She just moved here, and she’s incredible with a bow. She even hunted her way through half the region to get here!”

Lyra offered a nod, her expression neutral. “Not half the region. Just enough to keep my family fed.” She sized Kael up, her gaze lingering. “And you’re the history-obsessed one Dren keeps talking about?”

Kael’s ears reddened slightly. “I wouldn’t say obsessed.”

Dren laughed. “Don’t be modest, Kael. Lyra, he’s practically a walking archive.”

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Lyra smirked faintly, her confidence evident. “Good. Maybe you two can teach me something useful for once.”

The three walked back toward the square, with Dren enthusiastically recounting local legends for Lyra’s benefit. Kael stayed quiet, unsure how much to share about the artifact. But as they passed the stalls, Dren’s keen eyes caught the glint of metal tucked into Kael’s satchel.

“What’s that?” Dren asked, stopping abruptly. Lyra glanced over with mild interest.

Kael hesitated before pulling out the artifact, its weight almost defiant in his hand. Lyra leaned in closer, her curiosity piqued.

Dren’s jaw dropped as he examined the object. “Kael, do you know what this is? These markings... they’re ancient. This isn’t something you just stumble upon!”

Lyra, ever pragmatic, tilted her head. “What makes you so sure it’s not dangerous?”

“It’s history!” Dren exclaimed. “History is rarely dangerous—unless you’re on the wrong side of it.”

Kael felt a pang of doubt as he pocketed the artifact. “I just... found it yesterday. Thought it looked interesting.”

Lyra gave him a long look but said nothing.

When Kael returned home, the atmosphere was tense. His mother’s sharp eyes immediately noticed his guarded demeanor. “You’re hiding something,” she said bluntly.

Kael tried to deflect, but her persistence only grew. His father, Aiden, entered the room, his expression calm but firm. “Kael, your mother’s worried. If there’s something going on, you need to tell us.”

Kael clenched his fists, frustration boiling over. “I’m fine! Can’t you trust me for once?”

His mother’s voice softened, though her worry remained. “Kael, it’s not about trust. It’s about keeping you safe.”

Aiden placed a hand on her shoulder, a quiet gesture that seemed to calm her. “Let him be, for now,” he said, his tone carrying an air of understanding that Kael couldn’t quite place.

Kael stormed to his room, anger mixing with guilt. He glanced at the artifact on his desk, its markings catching the fading light.

Later, Kael found himself wandering again, the tension at home too heavy to bear. He crossed paths with Dren and Lyra, who were debating the best way to survive in the wild.

“History won’t save you from a hungry wolf,” Lyra quipped, twirling an arrow between her fingers.

“And arrows won’t explain the mysteries of the past,” Dren shot back.

Kael managed a small smile, their banter easing his mood. Lyra noticed his approach and smirked. “Let me guess—you’re here to defend his ‘mysteries of the past’ argument?”

Kael shook his head, his first genuine laugh in days escaping him. “No, but I’m curious to hear how it ends.”

The three continued walking, their conversation light but meaningful. Kael found himself warming to Lyra’s straightforward nature, and for the first time in a while, he felt a sense of belonging.

That night, as Kael lay in bed, the storm’s memory returned to him. The artifact rested on his desk, its presence almost haunting. He closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, an image flashed in his mind—a figure standing atop a hill in the rain, their presence commanding and unyielding.

Kael sat up, his heart pounding. The vision was fleeting, but its weight lingered.

He didn’t know why, but he felt like something—or someone—was calling him.