The night following the traveler's departure was a silent torture for Kaelen. The man's words—"The woods ain't whispering anymore. They're screaming."—had anchored themselves in his mind like the claws of an invisible beast. Every creak of his cottage's beams, every moan of the wind seeping through the cracks, seemed to confirm that ominous warning. He found himself on the verge of sleep several times only to be jolted awake by the image of unholy eyes gleaming in the darkness or the visceral sensation of an open wound in the fabric of the sky. Dawn found him pale, with pronounced dark circles under his eyes, and an unease that refused to dissipate with the first light.
He tried to immerse himself in his usual tasks, transcribing a new set of regulations on grain storage for the Council, but the words on the parchment seemed distant, meaningless. His attention constantly drifted to the window facing west, towards the Whisperwood Forest. The morning sky was a leaden gray, dense, as if holding a storm that couldn't decide whether to break. The air was heavy, charged with a static electricity that made his skin crawl.
Around midday, while sharing a meager meal of bread and cheese with the old village librarian, Mister Valerius, a man of slow gestures and a barely audible voice, Kaelen tried to inquire subtly.
"Have you noticed anything unusual in the woods lately, Mister Valerius?" Kaelen asked, striving to sound casual. "The woodcutters seemed worried yesterday."
Valerius adjusted his spectacles, his myopic eyes blinking. "The woods have always had their moods, Kaelen. They are older than our grandfathers, and they keep secrets that do not concern us." He paused, nibbling his bread. "But yes, even I have noticed the birds sing less. And my cat, Shadow, has refused to go out for three days now. He bristles protocolos if I go near the west door."
It wasn't much, but it confirmed the general feeling that something was amiss. Kaelen spent the afternoon in the library, surrounded by the scent of dust and old paper, but even there, amidst the stories of ages past, the unease persisted. He read about the Portadores, about the great wars against incursions from the Void, about heroes with legendary powers. It all seemed so grand, so removed from Oakhaven's reality.
Twilight arrived early that day, the sun sinking behind the mountains like a dying ember, staining the sky in shades of purple and a sickly orange Kaelen had never witnessed before. It was then that it happened.
First came a sound, a low, deep hum that seemed to vibrate from the bowels of the earth, making the cups on the shelves tremble and resonating in Kaelen's ribcage. Then, an unnatural flash illuminated the western horizon, just above the treeline of the Whisperwood Forest. It was not the light of a storm. It was something pulsating, a blackish-violet, like a festering wound in the veil of the world.
The Void Scar.
Terror, cold and paralyzing, seized Kaelen. The stories were real. The traveler had not lied.
Screams began to erupt from the square. People running, panic spreading like a plague. Kaelen stumbled out of his cottage, his heart hammering against his ribs. The scene was chaotic. Villagers fled in all directions, their faces contorted with fear. Others stood frozen, pointing with trembling fingers towards the woods.
From the growing darkness of Whisperwood, figures were emerging. They weren't animals. They were humanoid silhouettes, but distorted, their movements erratic and unnatural. Some seemed to crawl, others advanced with horrifying speed. And their eyes… an unholy, malevolent red glow betrayed them in the gloom. The traveler's creatures. Or perhaps, the corrupted Portadores.
"To the Council House!" bellowed Master Hadrin, the blacksmith, brandishing a heavy hammer. "It's the sturdiest building! Women and children first!"
Kaelen saw old Martha stumble and fall near the well, her basket of vegetables scattering across the ground. Instinct, stronger than his own fear, propelled him towards her. He helped her up, his hands trembling as much as hers.
"Come on, Martha, we have to get to cover!"
One of the creatures, faster than the others—a bony shadow with elongated claws—veered towards them. Its movements were like those of a predatory insect, and a guttural snarl escaped what Kaelen assumed was its throat.
Kaelen placed himself between the creature and Martha, pushing the old woman behind him. He had no weapons, only his thin frame and the terror that threatened to drown him. The creature lunged.
It was then that the sensation returned, multiplied a thousandfold. Martha's desperation, the sharp fear of the running children, the collective terror of Oakhaven flooded Kaelen like a dark tide. He felt their hearts beating in unison with his, their souls screaming in a symphony of panic. And amidst that torrent, a different spark: his own, a visceral need to protect, to interpose, to be a shield.
He thrust a hand out instinctively, as if he could stop the beast with a gesture. There was no conscious thought, only a surge of energy that erupted from the depths of his being, an intense heat coursing through his veins.
The world seemed to slow for a fraction of a second. He saw the creature's claws inches from his face. And then, a light bloomed from his outstretched hand. It wasn't a blinding flash, but a soft, golden pulse, like the first light of dawn, yet imbued with an unshakeable strength. The light expanded, forming a translucent barrier in front of him and Martha.
The creature slammed into the barrier with a dull thud. There was a high-pitched, inhuman shriek, and the bony shadow recoiled, shaking its head as if it had struck an invisible stone wall. The golden barrier flickered but held firm.
Kaelen gasped for breath, his legs trembling. The energy that had coursed through him left him feeling strangely empty, yet also connected. He could feel Martha's surprise and relief behind him, a faint warmth that seemed to feed his own strength.
The creature, confused but not deterred, charged again. This time, Kaelen didn't just feel the barrier; he pushed with his will, with that newfound energy. The golden light intensified, and the creature was repelled with greater force, tumbling backward and disappearing among the shadows of other attackers now swarming the square.
"What… what was that, lad?" Martha's voice was a shaky whisper, filled with awe.
Kaelen didn't know how to answer. He looked at his hand, normal now, no trace of the light. He felt exhausted, dizzy, but a strange lucidity was dawning in his mind. He had done something. Something he didn't understand, but it had worked.
The chaos, however, was far from over. More creatures were emerging from the woods, and some of the village guards, brave but outmatched and outarmed, were falling. He heard a child's scream and saw one of the larger, hulking figures, with what looked like twisted antlers sprouting from its head, cornering a small group near the bakery.
A new impulse, more conscious this time, surged within Kaelen. He needed to help. He left Martha in the care of other villagers who were huddling together and ran towards the danger, his fear now mixed with a strange, new determination.
The horned being was about to strike. A young guard, not much older than Kaelen, tried to intervene, his sword trembling in his hand. It was clear he would be no match. Kaelen focused, remembering the sensation of connection, the surge of energy. He reached out with his hand, not to create a barrier, but to connect with the young guard.
He felt the guard's soul, vibrant with terror but also a protective fury. Kaelen latched onto that fury, that will to fight, and poured his own energy into it, as if blowing on an ember to fan a flame.
The guard cried out, not in pain, but in surprise and a sudden rush of power. His sword, previously hesitant, moved with a speed and force he hadn't possessed moments before. The blow he delivered was not that of a frightened novice, but of a seasoned warrior. The blade drew a shining arc and connected with the horned being, sending it staggering back with a howl of pain and surprise. For an instant, the guard seemed wreathed in a faint golden glow, the same Kaelen had felt emanating from himself.
The effect was brief. The glow faded, and the guard looked at his own sword in disbelief, then at Kaelen, who was now leaning against a wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Two displays of power in such a short time had left him on the verge of collapse.
The fighting in the square continued, but something had changed. Some of the creatures seemed to hesitate, perhaps sensing the strange energy Kaelen had unleashed. Still, there were too many. The situation remained desperate.
Just when Kaelen thought he could do no more, when darkness threatened to engulf him, a new light appeared at the edge of the village. It was different, not golden like his, but a deep, cold blue like glacial ice. A tall, slender female figure, wrapped in robes that seemed woven from moonlight itself, advanced with an unnatural calm amidst the pandemonium. In one hand, she held a sphere of crackling blue energy, and in the other, a long, elegant sword that shone with a similar gleam.
With fluid, precise movements, the newcomer engaged the Void creatures. Every gesture was a deadly, efficient dance. Blue energy sliced and repelled, her sword found its marks with lethal grace. There was no wasted motion, only a display of controlled, overwhelming power. Within minutes, the remaining creatures were decimated or scattered back into the darkness of the woods.
A stunned silence fell over Oakhaven, broken only by the moans of the injured and the weeping of the frightened. Kaelen, leaning against the wall, watched the woman as she surveyed the desolation with an unreadable expression. Then, her eyes, as piercing blue as her magic, landed directly on him. There was no surprise in them, only a deep, inquisitive wisdom.
The woman began to walk towards him, her stride serene and regal. Kaelen felt the last vestiges of his strength leave him. The world tilted, and darkness finally claimed him, but not before he saw her face more closely, framed by hair as white as snow, and heard a voice that, despite the coldness of her magic, rang with the clarity of a crystal bell.
"So this is the epicenter of the resonance," she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Interesting."