The village of Ashendell sat quietly at the edge of a crumbling ridge. The early morning sun cast a pale glow over the grey stone houses, their roofs patched with moss and time. Smoke drifted gently from a few chimneys, though the streets were mostly empty. It was the kind of place forgotten by maps and spared by war, too small to conquer, too stubborn to vanish.
Kael and Selene walked side by side, dust from the road clinging to their cloaks. After days of travel, the village felt strangely still, like it was holding its breath.
"This is it," Selene said, stopping in front of a crooked wooden door. "Harlen's house."
Kael glanced at it. The door looked ready to fall off its hinges, and the stone around the frame was cracked. "Are you sure he's still alive?"
"If anyone knows how to avoid death, it's Harlen," she replied with a small smile.
Kael knocked. A pause. Then the door creaked open slowly.
An old man peered out, his round glasses thick with dust. His hair was a wild cloud of white, and his robe looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. He squinted at them.
"I don't talk to strangers," he said gruffly, beginning to close the door.
"Wait," Selene said quickly. "You knew my mother. Elira. From the Academy."
Harlen froze. His eyes widened slightly behind the glasses. "Elira? That name hasn't been spoken here in decades…"
Kael stepped forward. "We need your help. We're searching for the God beneath the ruin."
The old scholar muttered a curse and pulled the door wider, gesturing them in with a shaky hand. Inside, the house was cluttered, piles of books on every surface, scrolls scattered across chairs, candles burned down to stumps. It smelled of ink and old wood.
Harlen hobbled to a cluttered desk and sat with a groan. "If you're after that God, then you're already too deep. People who look for him don't come back right."
Selene sat across from him. "Then tell us how not to end up like them."
Harlen gave her a long, unreadable look. "Elira used to say the same thing. Brave. Foolish, too."
He rummaged through a pile of books until he pulled out a leather-bound journal, its cover cracked with age. "This," he said, tapping it, "contains what little I've kept hidden. Clues. Symbols. Warnings."
Kael leaned in. "Why hide it?"
"Because truth isn't safe," Harlen said. "And this truth? It bites."
He handed the journal to Selene. "If you follow it, you'll need more than courage. You'll need to understand what waits under the ruin isn't sleeping. It's watching."
Kael's throat tightened.
Harlen met his eyes. "You can't kill a god, boy. But you might distract it long enough to run."