The village always looked smaller after something changed inside you.
Karl stood just beyond the treeline, looking down at the familiar stone paths and crooked rooftops of Asterwall. The morning haze had thinned. Everything looked… normal.
But nothing felt normal.
Mira nudged his shoulder. "You spacing out again?"
He didn't answer.
He still felt the pulse of the shrine in his chest — quieter now, like it had retreated. But not gone. Never gone.
They stepped into the village square just as Elder Haren crossed from the temple steps.
The old man froze mid-stride.
His eyes narrowed.
"You two went near the Ridge Shrine."
It wasn't a question.
Karl met his gaze. "It called to me."
A few villagers turned to look.
Haren walked forward slowly. He wasn't tall, but something about him always seemed heavier than his frame — like the weight of memory clung to his bones.
He leaned close to Karl.
"The Ridge Shrine has been quiet for seventy years."
"And now it pulses — for you?"
Karl didn't flinch.
"I need answers," he said. "I think I'm connected to it."
Haren's eyes lingered a second longer… and then he stepped back.
"Come to the council hall. At dusk."
"They'll want to hear from you directly."
Then he walked away, robes trailing behind like torn shadows.
Mira exhaled sharply. "That's not terrifying at all."
Karl rubbed his chest absently. The mark still throbbed beneath the surface.
That night, as the sky bruised with fading light, Karl sat alone by the old watchfire outside the training square.
And far beyond Asterwall, in a chamber etched into the cliffs —
The figure in the rune-cloak knelt before a stone altar.
"The Veiled One has stirred."
Another voice replied, low and dry.
"Then the threads are loosening. Prepare the Sealed."