Morning light crept over Emberfall, but the village's usual warmth was absent. Kieran stood near the well, sharpening his blade, while Rag lay beside him, eyes half-closed but alert. Mira approached, a basket of herbs in hand.
"Did you sleep?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Kieran shook his head. "Kept thinking about what Alder said—about magic lingering."
Mira set the basket down and leaned against the stone wall. "You think the flowers mean something? Or just another strange coincidence?"
"Nothing's a coincidence anymore," Kieran replied. "Alder said those flowers only bloom where magic seeps into the ground. If they've never grown there before, it means something's changed."
Mira hesitated, chewing her lip. "Maybe we're being paranoid. But... I saw tracks by the northern path this morning. Big ones—nothing like the usual game."
Kieran glanced up, eyes narrowing. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Didn't want to worry the villagers. Besides, they led toward the old ruins. No one goes there."
A chill settled over him. The ruins—ancient stone structures left behind long before Emberfall's founding. The villagers treated them as cursed, filled with restless spirits.
Jace jogged over, breathing hard. "Kieran! Bram wants you at the hall—something about more signs near the western fields."
Kieran glanced at Mira, nodding. "Keep an eye out. Don't go near those tracks alone."
Together, he and Jace made their way to the hall, where Bram stood at the entrance, his expression graver than usual. A small group of farmers clustered nearby, whispering anxiously.
"Another mark?" Kieran asked.
Bram nodded. "Deep gouges in the earth—like claws raked through the dirt. And strange scorch marks around the crop edges."
Jace cursed under his breath. "It's getting closer."
Kieran's jaw tightened. "If it's marking territory, it's moving in on the village. We can't keep ignoring it."
Bram sighed. "Agreed. We'll call a gathering tonight—decide whether to send for help from the city. But I fear even their magic might be no match if this is what I think it is."
"What do you think it is?" Kieran pressed.
The old man looked away, hesitant. "A remnant—an echo of the old world's curse. There were stories of dark creatures bound by ancient pacts, sealed in places of power. The ruins might be one such place."
Kieran frowned. "So something's waking up?"
Bram didn't answer, but his silence spoke volumes. Jace muttered a curse, and Kieran exchanged a glance with him, unspoken resolve hardening between them.
"If it's moving in, we need to face it head-on," Kieran said. "Better to confront it than wait for it to reach the village."
Bram gave a reluctant nod. "Prepare yourselves. At dusk, we head to the ruins. If something waits there, we'll face it together."