Whispers of the Forgotten

Chapter 6: Whispers of the Forgotten

Kaelin and Anara continued their journey through the dense forest, the air growing colder with every step. The shard, though quiet now, seemed heavier in Kaelin’s pocket, as if aware of the weight of its purpose. Neither of them spoke for a long time, the events of the trial still fresh in their minds.

Finally, Anara broke the silence. “So, what’s the plan, oh fearless leader? Keep walking until we stumble into the next disaster?”

Kaelin glanced at her, his lips curling into a faint smile. “It’s a start.”

Anara rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I’m used to this kind of madness.”

The forest thinned as they pressed on, the trees giving way to rocky hills. In the distance, they could see the outline of a small village nestled in a valley. Smoke rose from chimneys, the faint glow of lanterns visible even from afar.

“A village,” Anara said, relief in her voice. “Finally, a chance to rest.”

Kaelin hesitated. “We should be careful. If the Legion is tracking us, they might expect us to stop somewhere like this.”

Anara scoffed. “We’re not exactly in the shape to keep running. I don’t know about you, but I need food, a bed, and preferably no shadow monsters for at least a few hours.”

Kaelin couldn’t argue with that. They made their way down the hill, their steps cautious but quick. As they entered the village, the warmth of lantern light and the faint hum of life eased some of the tension in their shoulders.

The streets were quiet, most of the villagers already inside for the night. A tavern near the center of the village stood out, its windows glowing with firelight and the faint sound of voices drifting through the air.

“This looks promising,” Anara said, already heading for the door.

Inside, the tavern was lively but not crowded. A fire crackled in the hearth, and a few patrons sat at wooden tables, talking in hushed tones. The barkeep, a stout man with a thick beard, looked up as they entered.

“Travelers, eh?” he said, eyeing them with mild curiosity. “Not many pass through here these days.”

“Just looking for a meal and a place to rest,” Anara said, sliding into a seat at the bar.

The barkeep nodded. “Food I can do. Rooms are upstairs if you’ve got coin.”

Kaelin fished a few coins from his pouch and placed them on the counter. “This should cover it.”

The man’s eyes lingered on the coins for a moment before he swept them up. “I’ll have something brought out. Room’s at the end of the hall upstairs.”

Kaelin and Anara sat in silence, the warmth of the fire soothing their tired bodies. It wasn’t until their meal arrived—a hearty stew with fresh bread—that Kaelin noticed something odd.

The other patrons were watching them. Not directly, but from the corners of their eyes, their conversations quieter now.

“Do you see that?” Kaelin whispered to Anara.

She glanced around casually, her expression unreadable. “Yeah. They’re definitely interested in us. Could be nothing... or it could be trouble.”

Before Kaelin could respond, a voice broke through the low hum of the room.

“You’re not from here.”

Kaelin turned to see an elderly woman standing nearby, her face weathered but her eyes sharp. She wore a cloak of deep green, a pendant shaped like an oak leaf hanging from her neck.

“No,” Kaelin said cautiously. “We’re just passing through.”

The woman stepped closer, her gaze fixed on Kaelin. “You carry something with you. Something old. Something powerful.”

Kaelin’s heart skipped a beat. His hand instinctively moved toward his pocket, but he stopped himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The woman chuckled softly. “You can’t hide it from me, boy. The shard’s presence calls to those who know how to listen.”

Anara stood, her daggers slipping into her hands. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave us alone.”

The woman raised her hands in a gesture of peace. “Calm yourself, child. I mean no harm. But if you’re wise, you’ll hear me out. There’s a reason that shard found you, and it’s not just coincidence.”

Kaelin frowned. “What do you know about it?”

The woman gestured toward a table in the corner. “Sit with me, and I’ll tell you what I can. But not here, in the open.”

Kaelin exchanged a look with Anara. She gave a small shrug, her expression skeptical but curious.

“Fine,” Kaelin said. “Lead the way.”

The woman led them to the far corner of the tavern, where the shadows of the room offered a measure of privacy. She sat gracefully, her movements deliberate, and leaned forward.

“The shard you carry is part of the Crown of Eternis,” she said, her voice low. “An artifact of unimaginable power, shattered long ago to prevent its misuse. But now, those who once sought to destroy it want to bring it back together.”

“The Legion,” Kaelin said.

The woman nodded. “They are but one faction in this game. There are others—some who would use the Crown’s power to reshape the world, and others who would see it destroyed forever.”

Kaelin felt the weight of the shard in his pocket grow heavier. “And what about us? What are we supposed to do?”

The woman’s gaze softened. “That depends on you. The shard is drawn to your will, your choices. But know this: the path ahead will not be easy. If you keep it, you’ll be hunted by forces far greater than you can imagine.”

Kaelin looked at Anara, who was watching the woman closely.

“And if we destroy it?” Anara asked.

The woman’s expression darkened. “Destroying one shard won’t stop the others. They’re already waking, and the world will feel their pull. Whether you like it or not, you’ve been drawn into this conflict. The question is, what will you do about it?”

Kaelin leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. The shard pulsed faintly in his pocket, as if it, too, awaited his answer.

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