The morning sun filtered through the thatched roofs of the village of Kurovina, a small Aibres Sivalon settlement nestled in the valley beneath the Whitehorn Mountains. Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys as villagers went about their chores—men chopping wood, women stirring pots over fires, children weaving flower crowns or chasing chickens.
Nikola stood barefoot by the riverbank, trying to wash the mud from his clothes. The past week had been... surreal. One moment, he had been stepping into his suburban home in Niš—and the next, standing in a forest with birdsong he had only ever heard in documentaries. It was only thanks to his obsessive reading and Crusader Emperors III playthroughs that he hadn't completely lost his mind.
The villagers had taken him in cautiously at first, thinking he was mad or cursed. But the local elder, a white-bearded man named Bogumil, had seen something in Nikola. Something divine. "You speak the tongue of the Sivalons," the elder had said, eyes narrow with awe. "But not of our time."
Apparently, the Sivalon tongue, though old and foreign to Nikola's ear, had become intelligible to him overnight. He now knew that the gods had touched his soul—especially the village's guardian deity, Vereja, goddess of fertility and fields. Strange dreams whispered that other gods watched him too. A shadow beneath a river. Thunder in his ears when he prayed.
The Sivalon Way
Life in Kurovina was simple but not primitive. Their customs reminded Nikola of the ancient Slavs—communal festivals, ancestor worship, and heavy reverence for druids and shamans. He learned that the three great Sivalon gods—Vereja (Fertility), Dresmir (Death and Resurrection), and Perunir (Storms)—were worshipped across all Sivalon tribes.
The Aibres Sivalons, to which Kurovina belonged, were fierce warriors and shepherds. Unlike their Furenti cousins to the north who lived in timber halls or Antlen riders who roamed with carts, the Aibres dwelled in stone hamlets, defended with wooden palisades and blood oaths.
The Hero's Summoning
One morning, horns echoed through the valley. A royal envoy had arrived, clad in bronze-scaled armor, banners fluttering with the twin-headed wolf of the Kingdom of Dravand—a realm Nikola had seen marked on old maps in the village elder's hut.
The envoy's leader, a grim knight named Sir Ladinor, dismounted before Bogumil.
"We seek the one anointed by the gods. The Hero foretold," he said.
Nikola blinked. "That's me, huh?"
Soon, he was given new garments—a green cloak marked with the druidic knot of Vereja—and set on a wagon bound for the capital: Drosmira, nestled near the great river Zevra.
The people bowed as he passed through towns and strongholds. Some wept. Some begged him to bless their infants. A hero. Nikola still couldn't believe it.
One morning, horns echoed through the valley. A royal envoy had arrived, clad in bronze-scaled armor, banners fluttering with the twin-headed wolf of the Kingdom of Dravand—a realm Nikola had seen marked on old maps in the village elder's hut.
The envoy's leader, a grim knight named Sir Ladinor, dismounted before Bogumil.
"We seek the one anointed by the gods. The Hero foretold," he said.
Nikola blinked. "That's me, huh?"
Soon after, he was dressed in ceremonial garments—a green cloak marked with the druidic knot of Vereja—and placed on a wagon bound for the capital: Drosmira, nestled near the great river Zevra.
The journey took several days, passing through fields and forests, across stone bridges and palisaded towns. At each stop, people would bow, some wept, others reached out with trembling hands just to touch the edge of his cloak. Mothers pressed babies into his arms. Elders gave him charms for protection.
A hero.
Nikola still couldn't believe it.
But in quiet moments—when the wind blew just right or the stars aligned in a certain way—he could feel it. Something ancient stirring inside him. Watching. Waiting.
And as the wagon climbed the last ridge and Drosmira came into view, with its timber towers and roaring bells, Nikola realized:
The ceremony would change everything.