His question hung in the air, heavier than the rain-soaked atmosphere outside. Do you have any idea what you have brought to my doorstep? It wasn't an accusation. It was a question trembling with a significance I couldn't grasp. I, who could read the history of a billion grains of sand, was completely illiterate in this new world.
"It's a rock," I said, my voice small. "A strange rock that pulled me from my home."
Kael sank back into his chair, his eyes never leaving the softly pulsing crystal on the table between us. He looked ancient, burdened by a knowledge I desperately needed.
"No, child," he said softly. "That is not a rock. It is a legend. A children's story my wife used to tell our grandchildren by the fire." He paused, a strange, sad smile on his lips. "Or so we all believed."
I waited, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. The warmth of the fire seemed to recede, replaced by a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
"The stories call them Star-Tears," he began, his voice taking on the rhythmic cadence of a storyteller. "They say that when the world was young and the gods still walked the forests, the stars in the sky were alive. They were celestial beings of immense power. And sometimes, when they looked down upon a great tragedy or a great act of love, they would weep. Their tears, made of crystallized light and possibility, would fall to the earth."
I listened, captivated. The story was fantastical, unbelievable, yet it resonated with the impossible thing that had happened to me.
"Most believed they were just pretty gems," he continued. "Sought after by lords and ladies for their beauty. But the old lore, the texts I study... they say the stories are true. That the Tears are more than just jewels. They are keys."
"Keys?" The word escaped my lips before I could stop it.
"Yes. Keys that can unlock what is hidden. The power inside a person. Or a path between worlds." He finally looked up at me, his eyes full of a new, dawning understanding. "Your story... the desert world, the two suns... It's true, isn't it? All of it."
It was a question, but he already knew the answer. For the first time since I'd arrived, I felt a wave of profound relief. I wasn't crazy. I wasn't delirious. My world was real. The validation was so overwhelming that I could only nod, a lump forming in my throat.
But the relief was short-lived, chased away by the fear that returned to Kael's face.
"If the legends are true," he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "then you are in more danger than you can possibly imagine."
"More danger than a Dune-Maw?" I asked, a hint of my desert-born defiance returning.
"A Dune-Maw is a beast. It kills to eat," Kael said grimly. "Men are far worse. They kill for power. And there are none who crave power more than the Magi of the Obsidian Tower."
"Magi?"
"Sorcerers. The King's council and his enforcers. They rule this kingdom of Veridia from the shadows. They believe all magic belongs to them. For decades, they have hunted for the Star-Tears, seeking to collect them all. They would kill a thousand innocent people to possess just one." His gaze fell upon the Tear, which still pulsed gently on the table. "They believe the Tears are not just keys, but tools. Weapons."
A cold dread spread through me. I was a scavenger, a nobody from a world of sand. Now, I was apparently in possession of an artifact that could start wars, sought by ruthless sorcerers.
"How would they even know?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
"A Star-Tear is dormant until it chooses a wielder," Kael explained, his eyes locking onto mine. "It chose you, Iris, in your moment of desperation. When you showed it to me, its pulse... that light... it's a beacon. A whisper on the magical currents of the world. Any sensitive Magi within a hundred leagues would have felt it. Like a tremor before an earthquake. They won't know where it is exactly, not yet. But they know it's here. And they will start looking."
He stood up abruptly, his movements now filled with a sudden, sharp urgency. He began grabbing a small leather satchel and stuffing it with dried rations, a waterskin, and a small, rolled-up blanket.
"What are you doing?"
"I am an old man, Iris. I have lived my life. I will not let it end with me handing over a lost child to those black-robed vultures," he said, not looking at me. "And I will not let my village be torn apart when they come looking for you."
He turned to face me, his expression resolute. "There is a place, hidden deep in the northern mountains. The Sunken Library. It is a sanctuary for those who seek knowledge, not power. They are enemies of the Obsidian Tower. If anyone can help you understand that... that Tear... and perhaps find a way to send you home, it is them."
His words hit me one after another. Sanctuary. Home. The concepts were so foreign, so hopeful, they almost hurt.
"We?" I asked, confused.
"I will take you as far as I can," he said. "To the edge of the old woods. From there, I can point you on the right path." He slung the satchel over his shoulder and looked at the small window. The sky outside was still a deep, inky black. "The Magi will send hunters at sunrise. We must be gone before then."
I stared at him, then at the Tear, then at the unfamiliar clothes I was wearing. Just hours ago, my greatest challenge was surviving the next day. Now, I was a fugitive in a world I didn't know, hunted by monsters I'd never met, carrying a curse I didn't ask for.
And I wasn't alone anymore. The weight of that kindness, the fact that this old man would risk everything for me, was heavier than any stone.
"Okay," I said, my voice finding a firmness I didn't feel. "What do we do first?"