The village was restless.
By the time Elira and Tavin reached the outskirts, the murmurs of worry had grown into anxious discussions. Faces peered out from doorways, eyes darting between neighbors as if searching for reassurance none could give. The elders stood in a circle outside the Temple of the First Flame, their robes rustling in the wind as they conferred in hushed tones.
"Elira." A familiar voice cut through the night air.
She turned to see Elder Saelin, his deep-lined face unreadable. "You saw it too, didn't you?"
Elira nodded. "The stars have spoken."
Saelin's expression darkened. "Then we must act before fear takes hold." He beckoned her forward, leading her toward the temple steps. Tavin hesitated before following.
Inside, the temple was dimly lit, the great brazier at its center casting flickering shadows upon the ancient stone walls. The scent of burning incense filled the space, a mixture of sage and something more bitter—something unfamiliar.
"The prophecy," Elder Rhea whispered, her hands trembling as she unrolled an ancient scroll. "It speaks of this night."
Elira stepped closer, her eyes scanning the delicate script. Words she had only seen in fragments now stretched before her in full: When the stars burn like fire upon velvet and the old gods stir, the Watcher shall rise.
A chill ran through her. She traced a finger along the final line. And the world shall tremble.
A gust of wind burst through the temple's entrance, sending the flames of the brazier leaping high. The shadows on the walls twisted and danced. A whisper, soft as breath yet clear as speech, echoed through the chamber.
"Prepare."
The brazier flared once more, then settled into an eerie stillness.
Tavin swallowed hard. "Did… did anyone else hear that?"
No one answered. But Elira knew they had.
The stars had spoken.
And the darkness was listening.