The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows against the wooden walls of the small cottage. Zaedric lay awake on the floor, staring at the ceiling, his body sore from the relentless training under Deyvar. Sleep eluded him, his mind restless, haunted by visions of Varethia's fall and the monstrous creatures that had torn his world apart.
Lyria breathed evenly beside him, lost in the embrace of sleep, her small frame curled beneath a tattered wool blanket. The soft rise and fall of her chest reassured him. She was safe, for now.
A cool breeze slipped through the cracked window, rustling the candle's flame. The night outside was still, yet Zaedric felt an unease creeping into his bones. Something was wrong.
He sat up slowly, straining his ears. At first, there was nothing but the usual sounds of the forest, the chirping of crickets, the occasional hoot of an owl. Then, faintly, a whisper. A voice carried on the wind, distant yet unmistakable.
"Zaedric…"
His blood ran cold.
He turned sharply toward the window, scanning the treeline beyond the clearing. Darkness stretched between the trees, an abyss untouched by the light of the moon. The whisper came again, closer this time, its tone neither hostile nor friendly, just… knowing.
Zaedric's hand found the hilt of the small hunting knife at his side. He rose quietly, careful not to disturb Lyria, and moved toward the door. He pressed his back against the wooden frame, listening. The whisper was gone, but the air outside had changed. The wind no longer rustled the leaves, it was as if the world itself had stilled.
A rustling sound to his right.
Zaedric's grip tightened on the knife as he edged toward the window. He peered outside, his breath slow and measured. At first, he saw nothing. Just trees and shadows. But then a movement. A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, barely visible in the dim light. Cloaked in tattered robes, it seemed almost to waver, as if caught between reality and illusion.
Zaedric swallowed hard. "Who's there?" he called out in a hushed voice.
The figure didn't answer. It remained still, its face obscured by the hood. But Zaedric could feel its gaze watching him, waiting.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, it raised a hand and pointed toward him.
A sudden chill swept through Zaedric's body, colder than the night air. The presence of this figure was unnatural, wrong. Every instinct screamed at him to shut the door, to wake Deyvar, to run. But something held him there, frozen in place.
And then, the whisper came again, not from the figure, but from within his own mind.
"Aetherbrand…"
The moment shattered. Zaedric stumbled back, his breath ragged, his heart pounding. When he looked again, the figure was gone. The forest was silent once more, the world returning to its natural stillness.
He stood there for what felt like an eternity before finally forcing himself to step away from the window. His hands trembled slightly as he locked the door, securing the latch. Lyria shifted in her sleep but did not wake.
Zaedric turned away, his mind racing. That name Aetherbrand he had never heard it before. Yet, somehow, it felt… familiar.
He did not sleep the rest of the night.
The first rays of dawn filtered through the canopy, casting golden streaks across the forest floor. Zaedric sat outside the cottage, his back against the rough wooden wall, his thoughts still tangled in the events of the night before. The whisper, the figure, the name Aetherbrand. It haunted him.
Deyvar emerged from the trees, his bow slung over his shoulder, his sharp eyes scanning Zaedric's face. "You didn't sleep."
Zaedric shook his head. "Something was here last night."
Deyvar frowned, kneeling beside him. "Something?"
Zaedric hesitated. "A figure. Cloaked. It didn't speak, but… I heard it. In my head."
Deyvar's expression darkened. He rested a hand on the hilt of his dagger. "Did it attack?"
"No. Just watched me. And then… it said a word. 'Aetherbrand.'"
Deyvar stiffened at the name, his jaw tightening. He averted his gaze for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. "Where did you hear that name?"
Zaedric exhaled sharply. "That's what I'm telling you. I've never heard it before. But when the figure pointed at me, it spoke the name in my mind."
Deyvar stood, rubbing his temple, pacing slightly. "This is no coincidence."
Zaedric stood as well, stepping closer. "You know something."
Deyvar was silent for a long moment before finally meeting Zaedric's gaze. "Aetherbrand isn't just a word. It's… a power. A rare one. One that hasn't been spoken of in years."
Zaedric's pulse quickened. "A power?"
Deyvar nodded slowly. "There are legends. Stories of those who wielded it, who could bend the very fabric of the world. But such abilities come at a cost." He studied Zaedric carefully. "And you say the figure called you that?"
Zaedric hesitated before nodding. "Yes."
Deyvar exhaled sharply. "Then we need to move. If someone or something knows about you, it means we're no longer safe here."
Zaedric's gut twisted. "You think they'll come back?"
Deyvar didn't answer immediately, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. "We don't wait to find out."
Lyria stirred inside, her small voice breaking the tension. "Zaedric?"
He turned toward the door. "I'm here."
Deyvar's expression softened slightly. "We leave at midday. Pack only what you need."
Zaedric nodded, his mind racing. The name Aetherbrand had awakened something. A hidden truth, a buried past, one he was now tangled in. And whether he wanted to or not, his journey was about to take a dangerous turn.
He looked toward the forest once more, his fists clenching at his sides. Whatever was waiting for him in the shadows, he would face it. He had no other choice.