An hour has passed since I woke, and nothing has come to hand.
—EUURRTT.
Ah… my stomach growls again. I sigh and keep walking. Halfway already. Hunger has been my companion since Father's passing ten years ago.
Curse it. Thoughts of him again. He never let me go hungry. Yet now I am grown — a man ten winters past his death.
I pull my cloak tighter, letting a bit of morning light touch me. Father always said sunlight was the salve of health.
I follow the river's path, eyes tracing the current. It leads toward the next village, though no fish stir beneath the water. Stillness reigns.
The only comfort I carry is the black crystal at my neck. Magic — rare and dangerous. Worth a fortune… if I live to sell it.
The memory of the relic shop burns in my mind. Why did it explode? Did the old man touch the crystal? The flames swallowed everything. The power was real — dreadful. My strength had nearly failed; the gem almost tore free. I was lucky…
No — I was spared.
"Spared, wast thou?"
—Huh?!
The voice! I dart behind a tree, breath caught. Who speaks?
"Fie… too late again," the voice calls from the hill above.
Slowly, I peer out. A man — no, a figure — stands wrapped head to toe in bandages, every inch veiled in linen, as though risen from a tomb.
He descends the hill, steps soundless, drawing nearer. My mind races — hide? run?
No… no use.
The crystal at my chest begins to glow, faint yet trembling, as though it senses fate itself.
I close my eyes, uncertain.
—SHHHHT.
The clink of a sword. He walks closer, each step echoing my heartbeat.
"I journeyed all night without rest… only to find thou hast touched it?"
His voice hums with something deep — sorrow, or warning.
Sweat trails down my neck. My thoughts stir, sharp and alive. Why do I tremble? I who once wished for death — now fear its approach?
What does he mean—?
"Fie… hast thou truly handled it…" he mutters again, nearer now, his words heavy as storm clouds. My limbs go stiff. I can barely breathe.
Then—
"BOY!"