Rick! Christie snapped her fingers sharply, shattering the fog of his thoughts. The sound cracked through the air like flint against stone, jolting him back into reality.
"Yes, Miss Christie?" Rick blinked, slowly returning to the present. He'd been staring into nothingness, lost in his own world. His eyes refocused, and the dim light, cold wind, and faint creak of wood from the nearby ruins came back into sharp relief.
Christie's voice was soft and warm, laced with concern. "What were you thinking about? You've been… elsewhere." Her tone was gentle, but it carried a quiet urgency that made the cold air feel almost cozy.
Rick hesitated, unsure how much to share. "Apart from feeling weak… I think I'm okay, Miss Christie."
Her eyes locked onto his, filled with a deep kindness. "If you say so. But promise me—if anything changes, you'll tell me. Don't hide it."
Before Rick could respond, Kevin's firm, commanding voice cut in, threaded with concern. "Good. Listen carefully. What we're about to discuss… may very well decide your future."
Rick straightened, the weight of Kevin's words pressing against him. "Yes, Mr. Kevin."
Kevin's dry, almost bitter chuckle filled the air as he surveyed the crumbling streets. Dust drifted where sunlight fell through shattered beams, and the distant sound of wind through hollow homes gave the place a mournful pulse.
"This place… once it was called Lepanga—the Sanctuary Beyond Sorrow," he said, his voice low and reverent. "Hard to believe, isn't it? Once, it thrummed with life. Laughter spilled into the streets like sunlight, music danced in every corner. People believed in tomorrow here."
As Kevin spoke, his eyes seemed to glaze over, and his voice took on the cadence of a storyteller. "Now… it is a husk. A battered village on the edge of Zurki. Its ruler, Josh Lepanga, was once beloved—a man of warmth and care. Today? He is a tyrant, poisoned by a prophecy that has hung over this place like a storm cloud, waiting to break."
Rick's curiosity flared like a spark in still air. He turned to Christie, his eyes seeking answers. "What prophecy, Miss Christie?"
Kevin ignored the question, his voice dropping into dark, deliberate tones. "Years ago, a traveller came to Lepanga. Not just a traveller—a seer of profound rank. As thanks for the king's hospitality, he offered to read Josh Lepanga's future. A simple gesture… a gift meant to honour kindness. And yet, it became a curse."
His eyes darkened, shadows flickering across his face like old ghosts. "The seer pushed himself beyond his limits, straining his magic to see what should have remained hidden. His body was frail, his spirit bare. Vulnerable. Something no one in this world would dare reveal—not even to their own blood. And yet he trusted Lepanga… trusted him with that weakness."
Kevin's voice was low and sharp, making the world seem to hold its breath. "Josh wanted answers. When would the child come? How old? What signs? But the seer had nothing more to give. By dawn, he was gone. And in front of the king, the people, all who watched, he spoke words that froze their hearts: 'Beware, for there will come a child—mysterious, fated—to kill you and bring ruin and destruction to this little haven.'"
The air seemed to shiver. A thin veil of dust lifted and swirled as if stirred by unseen hands. Shadows stretched across the village like fingers reaching for the past. The wind whispered through broken roofs and empty streets, carrying the weight of the seer's words.
Christie watched Kevin, a smile tugging at her lips. She had seen him wear many masks, but this… this storyteller side always captivated her. Rick, meanwhile, felt the world pressing down like a gathering storm. The prophecy seemed distant… impossible. And yet, somewhere deep within the corners of his mind, a flicker of dread burned.
As Kevin finished speaking, the wind moaned through the empty streets, carrying echoes of the past—a city that had once been alive, now fallen into silence. Lepanga's heart still beat, slow and fragile, beneath the weight of prophecy and tyranny. And Rick, trembling in the shadow of it all, felt the impossible tug at him: the call of a destiny he was too small to understand… yet somehow, already entwined with.
Kevin's voice rose slightly, weaving his narrative higher like a crescendo in an unseen symphony. "Lepanga—Josh himself—pondered the prophecy long and hard. Fear gnawed at him. What if the seer's words were true? What if this child truly would bring ruin? He could not risk it. Not in his lifetime. Not on the land his ancestors had consecrated."
Rick's eyes widened as Kevin leaned closer. "So he decreed it: every child, no matter how young, must leave Lepanga. Families were given one week—one week to abandon homes their ancestors had built, to carry their children from lands they had known for generations. Resistance was immediate. People with deep roots, family businesses, sacred traditions… they could not simply walk away."
The weight of Kevin's words settled like stones dropped into a still pond, each syllable heavy enough to echo. Rick looked at Christie, who offered only a small, encouraging nod—steady, grounding, human.
In that moment, he understood: this was no story for someone else. This… was the one he had been thrust into.
As they stood there, the wind began to move again—soft, searching, almost mournful. It wound through the skeletons of old homes, across cracked streets, and into the hollow heart of the once-living town. For a brief moment, if one listened closely enough, the wind seemed to hum a name.
Not the name of a king. Not of a hero.
But of a boy who should not have survived.
Rick felt it even as they walked away—the faint pull at the edge of his soul, as though something vast and unseen had just taken notice.
As the last golden rays faded from the broken walls of Lepanga, the ruins shivered. Not from wind, not from age—
but from recognition.