The morning sun filtered through the clouds, painting the village in a soft golden hue. Kael adjusted the strap of his satchel, feeling the reassuring weight of the artifact hidden inside. The memory of the storm still lingered in his mind—the vision of a figure standing defiantly atop the hill was etched into his thoughts, haunting yet compelling.
Today, the village bustled with renewed energy. The travelers from the storm had left behind more than stories—they’d stirred curiosity and unease among the villagers. Kael couldn’t ignore the hushed conversations he overheard as he made his way toward the market.
"You think they were spies?" one woman whispered to another.
"Or thieves," the other replied. "Strange folk, asking too many questions."
Kael brushed past them, the words nagging at the edge of his mind. He didn’t believe in coincidences. The storm, the travelers, the artifact—they all felt connected somehow.
As he reached the market square, he spotted Dren crouched by a stack of old books, his eyes wide with excitement.
“Kael!” Dren called out, waving him over. “You won’t believe what I found!”
Kael hurried over, glancing at the dusty tome in Dren’s hands. The cover was cracked and faded, but the title was barely legible: Legends of the Forgotten Era.
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“Look at this,” Dren said, flipping through the pages until he stopped at an illustration. It was a crude drawing of an artifact, remarkably similar to the one Kael had found.
Kael’s breath caught. “That’s... impossible.”
“Not impossible. Ancient,” Dren said, his voice brimming with excitement. “It says here that artifacts like these were keys to... something. It’s not clear, but they were tied to kings and empires. Maybe even King Khafel himself!”
At the mention of the name, Kael stiffened. “King Khafel? You know about him?”
Dren grinned, oblivious to Kael’s sudden tension. “Of course! He’s only the most fascinating figure in history. A king who united the lands, led legendary battles, and then—poof—disappeared. Well, not literally, but his empire crumbled after his death. Don’t you think it’s strange how little is known about him?”
Kael nodded slowly, his thoughts racing. Could this artifact truly be connected to King Khafel? And if so, why did it end up here, in this small village?
Before he could dwell on it, Lyra’s voice cut through the crowd. “Kael! Dren!”
Kael turned to see her walking toward them, her bow slung across her back and a rabbit slung over her shoulder. She looked as sharp and confident as ever, her piercing gaze locking onto Kael.
“Are you two scheming again?” she teased, but her tone had a hint of curiosity.
“Scheming? No,” Dren said with a sheepish grin. “Just uncovering secrets of the past.”
Lyra raised an eyebrow, her eyes flicking to the book in Dren’s hands and then to Kael’s guarded expression. “Secrets, huh? Sounds dangerous. You boys planning on getting yourselves killed?”
Kael smirked faintly. “Not today.”
Her expression softened, but only slightly. “Good. Because I’m not dragging your bodies out of the forest if you do something stupid.”
The three of them fell into an easy rhythm, walking through the market together. Yet, beneath the surface, Kael’s thoughts churned. The artifact’s weight seemed heavier than before, and the whispers of history felt closer than ever.
As the day wore on, Kael couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was watching him. Every shadow seemed deeper, every glance lingering. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and red, he found himself standing at the edge of the village, staring toward the hill where he had seen the figure during the storm.
It was empty now, just a silhouette against the fading light. But in his mind’s eye, the memory flickered: a man standing tall in the rain, defiant and commanding, like a ghost from a forgotten past.
Kael clenched his fists, the artifact pressing against his side. Whatever this was—whatever it meant—he was determined to find out.