The forest swallowed their footsteps, wind whipping through the trees as Draven and Klein ran. Hearts pounding, lungs burning, they could hear the shouts of the guards echoing behind them. The overturned cart had been a disaster,Draven's power had revealed too much, and now every shadow seemed alive with eyes.
"Faster!" Klein hissed, grabbing Draven's sleeve. "They're gaining on us!"
Draven's chest ached, sweat stinging his eyes. "I… I can't!"
"Yes, you can! Klein snapped, pulling him along. "Just keep moving!"
Branches whipped across their faces, roots tangled their feet, and every instinct screamed for them to stop,but they didn't. The sun climbed higher, striking through the canopy in scattered beams, guiding them onward.
By night, they stumbled into the next village Eldervale.
The market buzzed with life, stalls brimming with fresh bread, fruit, and colorful fabrics. Children ran between the legs of merchants, calling out for coins and sweetmeats, while carts rattled over cobblestones. For a moment, the world felt impossibly loud and alive a stark contrast to the terror they had just escaped.
Draven bent over, hands on his knees, gulping air. "We… we made it," he panted.
Klein grinned, brushing dust from his tunic. Told you! Eldervale's always got a little luck in its breeze. Now… let's find an inn before they catch up.
They ducked into a narrow street lined with timbered houses, and soon a small inn appeared, its sign creaking in the wind: The Gilded Lantern.
Inside, the inn was warm and bustling. A fire crackled in the hearth, sending orange light dancing across the wooden beams. Merchants haggled over prices, a bard strummed a lute in the corner, and the smell of roasting meat and fresh bread made Draven's stomach growl.
"This'll do," Klein said, clapping Draven on the shoulder. "We'll blend in for now."
The innkeeper, a stout woman with a sharp eye and a welcoming smile, approached. "You lads look windblown. Room for two? Or just need supper?
Both," Klein said quickly, glancing at Draven. We've had a… long morning."
The woman laughed, tossing them a key. Second floor, end of the hall. Dinner will be ready in an hour. Don't worry about a thing.
Draven climbed the stairs, heart still racing. The room was small but cozy, a pair of beds with thick blankets, a window looking out over the cobbled square below. He collapsed onto one of the beds, staring at the ceiling.
You alright?" Klein asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Draven nodded slowly, though his mind was still spinning. "I… I think so. But what if they follow us here?
Klein shrugged, smirking. Then we deal with it. But for now… let's eat. Look at that bread!" He ran to the window ledge, grabbing a loaf from the market vendor below and tossing it inside.
Draven laughed despite himself, feeling a rare flicker of relief. "You're impossible," he said, taking a bite.
"Impossible? That's my middle name," Klein said proudly, crumbs tumbling from his grin.
They ate in silence for a few moments, the laughter and clatter of the inn around them making the tension of the evening fade slightly. Yet Draven couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach,the pull of his power, the echo of the stone beneath his feet, and the certainty that he had stepped onto a path from which there would be no return.
Draven was just about to take another bite when a deep, rolling bell rang through the village square. Its clang echoed off the timbered walls, sharp and insistent, pulling the attention of every villager.
What now?" Draven muttered, setting the bread down.
Klein's eyes lit up. "Sounds like the stage is starting! Come on,we can see it up close.
Curiosity pricked at Draven's chest. He glanced out the window and saw a crowd gathering in the square below, all eyes toward a hastily built wooden stage. Banners depicting storms, mountains, and fire the symbols of Avalon's legendary demigods fluttered above it.
"Demigods of Avalon," Klein whispered. Stories from the old kingdom. I've never seen a real play before. Let's go!
Draven followed, feeling the familiar hum of the earth beneath his boots as he stepped onto the cobblestones. Villagers leaned forward, some whispering in awe, others scoffing.
A man with a painted mask shouted, "Hear ye! Hear ye! Tales of gods and monsters, of fire and stone, of storms that can tear the world apart
A few villagers laughed. "Demigods? Hah! Those are stories to scare children," one old man muttered.
Draven frowned. He felt the stories stirring something inside him like memories half remembered, shadows brushing the edges of his mind. He stepped closer to the stage, curiosity sharpening, ignoring the snickers around him.
Klein elbowed him. Don't let them get to you. They'll think we're fools if we act too impressed.
Draven clenched his jaw. I'm not impressed. I… I just feel like I know it.
"What?" Klein asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing," Draven said, but his eyes never left the stage.
The actors began. One bellowed as if summoning a storm. Flames flickered from a painted brazier, smoke curling into the sky. Another lifted a wooden shield high, blocking an invisible attack. Mountains painted on the backdrop seemed to crumble as the performers moved, and the crowd gasped.
Some villagers clutched their children, pointing. Others rolled their eyes. "The boy's imagining it," one woman whispered to her neighbor.
Draven's heart thumped. He could feel it the truth in the story. Not just stories, not just acts, but echoes of something real. The mountains, the fire, the storms… it felt like a memory that belonged to someone else but also to him.
Klein nudged him. "See? Isn't it amazing?"
Draven didn't answer. His eyes narrowed on the painted lightning that split the backdrop sky. The hair on his arms rose. "It's… too real," he muttered under his breath.
A wooden shield toppled from the stage and rolled toward the edge. The crowd gasped again. Without thinking, Draven's hand twitched, and the shield rolled back into place, upright as if guided by an invisible hand.
Gasps erupted. People stared. Whispers raced through the square. "Did you see that?" "Magic!" "He moved it!"
Klein's jaw dropped. "Draven… you didn't!"
Draven stepped back, heart hammering. "I… I didn't mean to….
A few villagers laughed nervously. Show-off!Stop pretending, boy!"
Others murmured in awe, stepping closer. "Do it again! Make the mountain move!
Draven's chest tightened. He hadn't meant to reveal himself. Every instinct screamed hide, hide, hide, but the pull the echo of the demigods in his blood was insistent.
The bell rang again from the inn tower, cutting through the chaos. People glanced around nervously. Klein grabbed Draven's sleeve. Time to move. Now.
Draven nodded, barely able to control the hum in his fingertips. They darted down a side street, weaving through alleys as whispers and shouts followed them.
The shouts of the crowd faded behind them, replaced by the distant clang of the bell.
I think we lost them," Klein whispered, wiping sweat from his brow.
Not for long," Draven muttered, his fingers tingling with the aftershock of the shield incident. He could still feel the hum of power beneath his skin, thrumming like a warning.
They crouched lower, hoping to remain unseen. The alley was quiet now, only the rustle of leaves and the faint clatter of market carts reaching their ears. Draven's chest rose and fell in rapid rhythm as he tried to calm himself.
Then a sharp sound echoed behind them.
Both of them froze.
Who's there?" Klein said , glancing over his shoulder.
No answer came, only the whisper of wind down the alley.
Draven took a cautious step back but before he could react, a heavy hand slammed into the back of his head.
The world erupted into darkness.