Lucas stepped off the train, the screech of brakes fading behind him as silence took its place. The village hadn't changed much—still quiet, still distant, as if frozen in time. He walked out of the station and began heading toward the mountain, where the old house stood like a forgotten relic.
The wind carried the scent of earth and pine. His steps were steady, but his heart trembled. Each footfall stirred a memory.
He remembered being a little boy—barefoot, wild-haired, running through the village streets. His tiny fingers would tug at his grandfather's sleeve as he pointed at toys or sweets, eyes wide with wonder.
"Grandpa! I want that!"
And his grandfather, with that warm smile and a laugh that could melt away any sadness, would crouch down and hand over coins.
"Alright, alright. But only if you promise to share."
The villagers respected his grandfather deeply.
As a child, Lucas didn't fully understand why. But he could see it—in their bowed heads, in the way they listened when his grandfather spoke, in how they always called him the wise one.
That made Lucas proud. So proud, he'd puff out his chest and smile wide, thinking: That's my grandpa.
Now, as he walked those familiar paths, a sad smile tugged at his lips. That boy—so full of joy and admiration—felt so far away.
Ten minutes passed.
He stopped at the mountain's base. The old house was just ahead, up a long stone stairway, its roof barely visible between the trees.
Everyone who visited his grandfather always used those stairs. It was the path of tradition. The path of safety.
But Lucas didn't take that route.
His gaze shifted to the second path—a narrow, wild trail that twisted toward the top of the mountain. Overgrown and shadowed, it looked more like an animal trail than anything made for people.
He stood still, staring at both options.
His parents would've screamed if they saw him now. That path—his grandfather had strictly forbidden it.
"Never go that way," he had warned. "Wild beasts live up there. Strange things happen."
The villagers had passed down stories for years—rumors of cursed spirits, ancient beasts, or lost things that whispered in the night. After the funeral, no one dared approach this side of the mountain. It had been forgotten.
But Lucas stepped toward it without hesitation.
No one was here to stop him. No eyes to judge. No voices to say he'd lost his mind.
As his feet crunched the leaves and underbrush of the hidden trail, his mind drifted back—back to one quiet afternoon, years ago.
He was still a child, sitting on a log beside his grandfather. The wind had been strong that day, carrying the scent of pine and moss. His grandfather pointed toward the upper path—the very one Lucas now walked.
"Lucas," he had said, voice low, "do you know what that road leads to?"
The young boy's eyes lit up with curiosity. He stared up at the shadowy trail, cheeks puffed with thought.
"I heard stories, Grandpa," he said, tilting his head. "But I don't know if I should believe them."
His grandfather chuckled. "Why not?"
Lucas crossed his arms and pouted. "Because you're the best archaeologist in the world. If there was really something special up there, you would've already found it. But since you didn't, it must be fake!"
The old man laughed, his deep voice echoing through the trees. Lucas glared at him, red-faced and frustrated. But the more he pouted, the harder his grandfather laughed—until tears formed in the old man's eyes.
"You look like a puffed-up hamster," he said between chuckles.
Lucas huffed in protest, which only made him look cuter.
Eventually, the laughter faded. His grandfather wiped his eyes and grew quiet.
"You're right, Lucas," he said softly. "But there is something up there. Something I've been protecting for a long time."
Lucas blinked. "What is it?"
His grandfather looked toward the mountain.
"When the time comes—and when you're ready—I'll give it to you."
They never spoke about it again. Training began soon after, and that moment became just another memory—until now.
Now, with the wind whispering through the trees and his feet set on the forbidden path, Lucas whispered,
"I'm ready, Grandpa."
And the mountain, quiet for so many years, seemed to answer with silence…
And a sense that something was waiting—just ahead.