Dark Whisperer

The night was heavy and thick around him, a suffocating shroud of shadows that pressed close against the trees. Selis sat slumped on the fallen trunk of a dead oak, his breath coming in short, laboured puffs as he tried to ease the throbbing pain in his leg. The old wound flared angrily beneath his robes.

He leaned forward, his thin shoulders hunched as if he could somehow fold himself smaller against the bitter cold, his lantern casting a weak, flickering light that did little to penetrate the darkness beyond.

Selis ran his hand over the rough bark, tracing the deep grooves with his fingers. The texture was harsh and unkind, splintered, and jagged from the tree’s long descent.

“Like me,” he murmured bitterly. “Once something worth looking at... and now just rotting.” He spat into the dirt, “Who even noticed when you fell, eh? Did they weep for you? Did the gods watch and grieve as you came crashing down?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “No. You fell alone. And so will I.”

The wind whispered through the bare branches. He snorted, shifting uncomfortably on the trunk as his leg twinged, sending another jolt of pain up his spine. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe through the agony.

It was a mistake to come out here tonight. He knew it, and yet he couldn’t stand being cooped up in that miserable shack any longer. The walls seemed to close in on him, pressing down with their silence, their emptiness.

There was no warmth in that place, no comfort. Nothing but bare boards and the stench of mildew. The thought of spending another hour there, hunched over his meagre possessions, muttering useless prayers into the dark—it made his skin crawl.

But what good had this walk done? He had wandered too far, and now he was paying for it. He rubbed his leg absently, cursing under his breath. He needed to get up, needed to move.

Gritting his teeth, Selis pushed himself upright, gripping the rough bark of the trunk for support. The world swayed around him, as he struggled to find his balance. His lantern swung uselessly in his other hand, its light dimming with every passing second.

He bent down, fumbling in the dark, and his fingers closed around the familiar, rough wood of his walking stick. He clutched it tightly.

“Come on, Selis,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Up you get. You’re not dying here. Not tonight.”

"... Selis."

He snapped his head up, eyes darting around the clearing, but saw nothing but the black tangle of branches overhead. For a moment, he hesitated.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just the night and the pain playing tricks on him.

With a groan, he straightened, his body trembling from the effort. The pain in his leg flared hot and sharp, nearly sending him back to his knees, but he forced himself to take a step, then another. Each movement sent fresh waves of agony through his body, but he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

The path back to his shack was little more than a narrow strip of beaten earth. Selis squinted, his breath steaming in the frigid air as he shuffled along. He focused on the ground, on the rhythm of his steps, anything to drown out the pain.

"Keep walking..." a whisper slithered through the dark, low, and insistent.

Selis flinched, nearly stumbling. He glanced around, heart hammering, but there was no one. Just the empty night pressing in close around him. He shook his head, trying to ignore it. "It’s just my mind," he thought.

He was so focused on keeping himself upright, on not collapsing into the dirt, that he didn’t notice the light dimming further until it was almost too late. The lantern sputtered, its flame shrinking to a tiny, trembling spark.

Selis’s heart lurched. “No, no, no,” he muttered, shaking the lantern desperately. “Not now. Just a little longer.”

"The light fades... as all things do." The whisper was clearer this time, curling around him like smoke.

The lantern gave a final, pitiful flicker before the flame winked out, plunging him into total darkness. Selis froze, his eyes straining against the black, his breath catching in his throat.

For a moment, he just stood there, lost, and blind.

“No,” he whispered, his voice thin and brittle in the blackness. “No, please—”

But there was nothing. Only the soft whisper of the wind through the trees, and the echo of his own ragged breathing.

He stumbled forward, his foot catching on a root. The ground rushed up to meet him, and he pitched forward, barely managing to support himself on his walking stick.

“Arrrgh!”

He staggered, his breath coming in short, desperate bursts, the world spinning around him.

“Damn you!” he screamed, his voice cracking, his throat raw. “Damn you all! You hear me?!”

Laughter.

It was faint at first, barely more than a ripple, but it grew louder, swelling around him, filling the air. It was a deep, echoing sound.

Selis clutched his walking stick tighter, his knuckles white. “Stop it!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “Stop laughing!”

But the laughter only deepened, curling around him, resonating in the hollow spaces of his chest.

"Weak."

The words echoed back at him, hollow and cruel, swallowed by the vast, uncaring dark.

Selis stood there, trembling, his fists clenched at his sides. Each breath was a struggle, his lungs burning, his vision blurring. He took a step forward, then another, his foot slipping on the uneven ground. He stumbled again, a sharp pain lancing through his stubbed toe, but he barely felt it over the numbness creeping through his body.

“Why?! Why are you doing this to me?!” he shouted, his voice raw, breaking against the stillness. “What did I ever do to deserve this?!”

"Because..." the word drifted through the air, low and sinister, curling around him like smoke.

But the forest, the gods, the very world—it all remained silent. Indifferent. As if it had always been this way, as if nothing had changed, and he was just a speck of dust in the endless black.

He could feel himself unravelling, threads of his sanity fraying with each step. Out here, in the endless, uncaring dark, he was nothing. Just a broken man, screaming into the void, with no one to answer him.

“You’re not listening,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice shaking, the words trembling on his lips. “You never listen.”

He stood there, hunched and trembling, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. His thoughts blurred, slipping away like water through his fingers. He was so tired. So tired of fighting, of struggling, of pretending that any of it mattered.

Slowly, painfully, Selis forced himself to take another step. Then another. He didn’t know where he was going—didn’t care. He just knew he had to keep moving, had to keep going, or he would fall and never rise again.

The darkness was absolute, suffocating, as if it was pressing in around him, tighter and tighter, trying to crush the life out of him.

He stumbled and fell, sprawling in the dirt. For a moment, he just lay there, his body trembling with exhaustion. But then, slowly, he pushed himself up again, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts, hands shaking as he gripped the earth beneath him.

"Walk." The command was sharp, almost cruel.

“Keep going,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Just... keep... going.”

He dragged himself forward because if he stopped, if he gave in to the pain and the darkness... then he would be nothing at all.

Selis staggered forward, the night swallowing him whole, the darkness stretching on forever, deeper than he could fathom. It was as if the shadows themselves were moving, slithering, creeping closer.

"Lost..." whispered the voice, softer now, almost gentle, as if it pitied him. "Lost and forgotten... but not alone."

He blinked, his breath hitching in his chest, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse right there—alone, abandoned by everything he had once clung to.

"Look."

But then something caught his eye.

Through the black tangle of trees, through the thick, suffocating night, there was a shimmer—a distant, almost imperceptible glimmer of light. It hovered on the edge of his vision, wavering like a mirage, a single point of brightness in the endless dark. His breath caught, his eyes narrowing as he strained to focus, his heart thudding dully in his chest.

The lake.

But that was impossible.

He was nowhere near the lake.

And yet... there it was.

The surface gleamed faintly in the gloom, like a shard of broken glass, catching the light that shouldn’t have been there. The reeds that lined its banks seemed to sway gently, though there was no wind, as if they were beckoning him, drawing him closer.

"Come."

The whisper was no longer distant, no longer a murmur in the back of his mind. It was a command, a pull, a force dragging him forward, and he couldn’t resist.

He took a step, his leg screaming in protest. Then another, and another, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on that distant, impossible sight.

Each step felt lighter, easier, as though the lake itself were guiding him, urging him on.

Selis shook his head, blinking rapidly.

But no—there it was again, clearer this time.

The lake. His lake.

“Am I...?” - “I must be dreaming.”

He took a step, his leg screaming in protest. Then another, and another, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on that distant, impossible sight.

Each step felt lighter, easier, as though the lake itself were guiding him, urging him on.

“Keep going,” he whispered, the words slipping from his lips unbidden. “I have to... I must see...”

Time lost all meaning. He didn’t know how long he walked—minutes, hours, days. It all blurred together, each step blending into the next.

All he knew was the lake.

His lantern, long extinguished, hung uselessly from his hand, swinging gently as he limped forward. The pain in his leg no longer roared. He was weightless, drifting through the night like a leaf on a still pond, his gaze locked on that shimmering, beautiful, impossible sight.

“Closer…”

The lake seemed to swell, expanding until it filled his entire vision, until it became the world itself.

But how could he see it? His mind, though clouded by fatigue, knew the terrain. He was far, far from the lake. There were hills, ravines, and thick woods between him and that dark expanse of water.

And yet...

It was there. Just a few paces ahead. He could almost reach out and touch it.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, cutting through the strange calm that had settled over him. He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the trees around him.

They were still there, but they felt... distant, insubstantial, like a dream fading at the edges.

“What is this...?” he murmured, his voice trembling. “What are you?”

The lake shimmered in response, its surface rippling softly as if in answer.

He took another step, then another, his heart pounding in his chest.

He could feel it now—the pull, the way it drew him in, as if invisible hands were tugging him closer, guiding his every step.

He wanted to reach out, to plunge his hand into those dark, mysterious waters and see what lay beneath. To understand.

Just one more step.

Just one more—

SNAP!

The sharp crack of a twig beneath his boot shattered the stillness.

Selis jerked back, his gaze tearing away from the lake.

The world snapped back into focus, the darkness rushing in around him, cold and suffocating.

The pain in his leg roared to life, nearly dropping him to his knees. He gasped, clutching at his thigh as his vision blurred with sudden, blinding agony.

“No—no, what—?”

He looked around wildly, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

The lake was gone.

But he had seen it. He had seen it.

His gaze darted to where the lake had been, his heart racing. Nothing.

Only darkness. No shimmering water. No rippling reeds. No soft, beckoning light.

Had he imagined it? Had he finally gone mad?

He stumbled back, his leg nearly buckling beneath him. The pain shot through him, sharp and real, grounding him. But it was real. It was real.

“Impossible,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling. “It was right there. It was...”

He trailed off, his gaze locked on the empty space where the lake had been. His heart hammered in his chest.

He could feel it now—the emptiness, the silence. It was as if the world were holding its breath, waiting.

Waiting for what?

Selis shook his head violently, trying to clear the fog from his mind. He had to get out of here. Had to get back to his shack, back to... safety?

Slowly, painfully, he turned, his gaze lingering one last time on the spot where the lake had been, searching for a glimmer, a sign, anything to prove he hadn’t lost his mind.

“It was there,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “I know it was.”

But even as he said the words, doubt crept in. Had it really been there? Could something so clear, so vivid, vanish without a trace?

With a shuddering breath, Selis forced himself to move, limping back the way he had come. Each step was a struggle, dragging him through the dark, but he clung to the rhythm, needing to feel the ground beneath his feet, something tangible, something real.

He took one step, then another, his thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and fear, unravelling faster with every passing moment.

Then he looked up—and froze.

His shack was right there.

Just a few paces away, its crooked roof outlined starkly against the night sky. The flickering light from the dying fire cast faint, weak shadows against the sagging walls and the warped doorframe.

Selis blinked, his heart stuttering in his chest. He stared at it, uncomprehending.

He turned, glancing back over his shoulder, expecting to see the dense, tangled forest stretching out behind him, the path he had stumbled along, the darkness he had fought through. But there was nothing—no winding path, no dark trees looming like spectres. Just his shack.

Right where it had always been.

As if he had never left.

The realization hit him like a physical blow, dropping him to his knees. The air rushed out of his lungs, and he could only stare, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly, the words tangling on his tongue, too knotted to speak.

“I—how...?” he gasped, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “No, no, no—this isn’t... I was just...”

But he couldn’t finish the thought. Couldn’t even wrap his mind around what he was seeing. It was impossible. He had walked away. He had wandered through the woods, lost and alone, stumbling for what felt like hours. He had seen the lake. Hadn’t he?

“I’m mad,” he whispered hoarsely, clutching at his head. “I’ve gone mad. It’s finally happened. They’ll call me a lunatic. A lunatic in a shack.”

His heart hammered in his chest, his body trembling as he rocked back and forth, clutching at the ground. Dirt and snow caked his fingers, but he didn’t care.

He dug his nails into the earth, half-expecting it to melt away beneath his touch, to reveal the lake’s dark waters beneath, to prove that what he had seen was real.

But nothing changed. The shack stayed where it was, solid and real, as if mocking him.

A choked sob escaped his throat, half-laughter, half-despair. The sound echoed around him, swallowed by the night.

“The gods,” he croaked, his voice thin and broken. “The damned gods! Are they laughing at me? Is this some kind of... of cruel joke?”

But even as he cursed, something shifted inside him. Slowly, the fear and confusion began to ebb. In its place, a different kind of realization crept in—slow, creeping, and undeniable.

It wasn’t a joke.

The gods were watching.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, hot and cold all at once.

He had seen something tonight—something impossible. The lake, shimmering in the darkness, beckoning him.

And then... then he was here. Back at his shack, as if the walk never happened.

Selis swallowed hard, his throat tight. He pushed himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily, his eyes locked on the shack. Had it been the gods? Was this their doing? Had they... saved him?

“Of course,” he breathed, the words coming faster now, tumbling over each other in a rush. “Yes, yes—it must be them. They brought me back. They guided me. It’s a sign. A blessing. They’ve chosen me. Me!”

He laughed, the sound high-pitched and wild. “They want me to do something. They—no, they want me to be something!”

But even as he spoke, doubt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. The townsfolk wouldn’t believe him. They would scoff, they would laugh, they would whisper behind his back about the ‘mad shaman in the woods.’ They’d say he ate a strange mushroom, that he was seeing things, that he’d hit his head when he fell.

“They won’t listen,” he muttered, the exhilaration draining from his voice. “They’ll just say I’m crazy. Just like they always do. They won’t see the truth. They never see the truth.”

He took a step toward the shack, then stopped, his gaze darting back to the spot where he had stood before. Had it really happened? Had the gods really brought him back?

“Or... did I just lose myself?” he whispered, doubt twisting in his chest. “Am I mad after all?”

He looked down at his hands, stained with dirt. His whole body felt unsteady.

No, it was real. It had to be real. The gods were real. They were always real. He had seen them. He had felt them. Tonight, had been a sign. A sign that—

A soft crunch of snow behind him shattered his thoughts.

Selis whirled around, his heart leaping into his throat.

His eyes darted through the darkness, his body rigid with fear.

Someone was there. He could hear it—the faint, muffled sound of footsteps, slow and deliberate, growing closer with each passing second.

“No,” he whispered, panic clawing at his chest. “No, no, no—who’s there?”

The footsteps paused, then resumed, the soft crunch of snow and twigs growing louder, measured, like a predator’s quiet advance.

Selis’s breath quickened, his gaze darting wildly around the clearing. It couldn’t be a child bringing food—not at this hour.

And it couldn’t be one of the adults. No one came out here, not unless they had to. Not unless they...

“They’ve come to kill me,” he hissed, his voice a thin, ragged whisper. “They know. They know what I saw, and they—they’re going to—”

He stumbled back, his mind racing, his leg screaming in pain. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t stay here. He had to run. Had to get away. Had to—

“Please, no,” he whimpered, clutching at his chest. “Please, don’t—”

The footsteps stopped.

Selis froze, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. He strained his ears, his whole-body tense, every muscle coiled like a spring.

Silence.

The quiet stretched out, long and oppressive, as if the night itself was holding its breath. Selis’s mind whirled, desperate for some sound, any sound to break the stillness.

Then, barely more than a whisper, he heard it—a soft exhale, like a sigh, coming from somewhere behind him. It was close. Too close.

Selis dared not turn, his heart pounding so violently it was all he could hear. But he could feel it now, the presence hovering just out of sight, like something dark and immense looming over him, waiting for him to make the smallest, slightest move.

And then came the voice, low and smooth, sliding through the darkness like a blade through silk.

“Selis.”

The sound of his name, spoken in that soft, almost tender tone, sent a jolt of terror through him. He jerked, spinning around, but the night remained thick, impenetrable.

“Selis...” the voice repeated, closer now, slipping around him, curling in his ears. “It’s only me.”

He blinked, his vision blurring, the darkness bending and twisting at the edges. Was he dreaming? Was this another trick of the gods, some cruel vision sent to mock him?

“Show yourself!” he gasped, though his voice was barely more than a wheeze. “Stop hiding!”

A pause, long enough for Selis’s heart to falter. Then, from the shadows, a figure stepped forward, gliding out of the dark as if it had been a part of it all along.

“Finnian?” Selis breathed, the name barely making it past his lips. His mind couldn’t grasp it—couldn’t make sense of the shape, the presence that moved with such unnatural, deliberate grace.

Finnian’s face was half-hidden in the darkness, but there was a glint in his eyes, a glimmer that caught the faintest light and reflected it back. His smile was a slash of white in the night.

“I was worried about you, old friend,” Finnian said, his voice soft, gentle, as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary. “Thought I’d check in and bring you some of my finest.”

Selis stared, uncomprehending, his chest tight with dread. Finnian? Here? At this hour? How—why—

But there was no mistaking it. There was no mistaking the way Finnian stood, the way he tilted his head, watching, waiting. It was as if he was studying Selis, like a hawk studies a mouse before it strikes.

And yet... it felt wrong.

The realization struck Selis like ice water, chilling him to his core. He wasn’t sure if this was real. He wasn’t sure if any of this was real.

“Wha... what do you want?”

Finnian’s smile widened, the darkness around him shifting, almost writhing, as if it were alive.

“Just a chat,” he murmured, taking a step closer, his presence looming, filling the air around them. “Isn’t that what friends do?”

Selis’s mouth went dry, his pulse thudding in his ears. Finnian was close now, close enough that Selis could see the faint gleam of his eyes, the strange, almost hungry glint hidden beneath that placid smile.

Close enough that, for a moment, Selis could smell something faintly sweet.

“Friends...” he echoed, but the word felt hollow, empty, as if it was being swallowed by the night.

Finnian’s eyes glinted, his smile lingering, almost affectionate.

“Yes, Selis,” he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. “Friends.”

Selis felt his chest tightening painfully.

“What...?” he breathed, barely managing to force the word out.

Finnian took a step closer, his movements smooth, almost gliding.

Selis’s breath hitched, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. Had Finnian been watching? Had he known?

And more importantly...

How much had he seen?

Selis stood rooted to the spot, his mind racing, panic clawing at the edges of his thoughts. How could Finnian know? He hadn’t been there. No one had been there. It was just him, alone in the woods, stumbling like a fool...

“I—” he stammered, his voice cracking. “What—do you want to talk about?”

Finnian’s eyes never left his, and Selis could feel them boring into him, unblinking, like a predator sizing up prey.

Selis blinked, the fog of panic lifting slightly, and tried to steady his voice. “Yes, yes, that’s right,” he muttered, more to himself than to Finnian. “The cold... I—maybe I... imagined it. Just the cold and the dark.” He laughed, a high, desperate sound. “Nothing but shadows and—”

“The town needs you, Selis. Now more than ever.”

The topic was so abrupt, so sudden, that it took a moment for Selis to catch up. He blinked again, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“What—what are you talking about… the town doesn’t need me. It’s never needed me.”

“It threw me out, Finnian! All of you, treating me like some useless cripple. A—a failure!” His voice grew louder, each word laced with a raw, simmering hurt that had been buried for far too long.

Finnian held up his hands, palms open, a gesture of calm. He stepped back just slightly, giving Selis a fraction of space.

“Selis, listen to me,” he said, his tone smooth, almost soothing. “I never wanted that to happen. You know that. I’ve always respected you. But... things were different then. The council, we didn’t understand. We couldn’t see your potential.”

“Potential?” Selis spat the word like it was poison. “Potential for what? They shoved me out, stripped me of everything, made me a—a laughingstock!” His eyes burned with unshed tears; his fists clenched tight at his sides. “And you just watched! You stood there and smiled, Finnian, with your—your kind words and your promises. You said you’d help, but you didn’t—you didn’t do anything!”

For a long, tense moment, the only sound was his ragged breathing, the only movement the slight tremor of his frame as he glared at Finnian through tear-blurred eyes.

Finnian didn’t move. He didn’t flinch or back away. He just stood there, watching Selis. His eyes were calm, unyielding, like the surface of still water hiding something dark and unfathomable beneath.

And then, slowly, he nodded.

“You’re right,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I did watch. I should have done more. I should have fought for you, Selis. But I didn’t.” His gaze softened, his eyes shimmering with what almost looked like regret. “And I’m sorry.”

The words hit Selis like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from his lungs. He stared at Finnian, stunned into silence, his mind reeling. Finnian? Apologizing? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.

“But that’s why I’m here now,” Finnian continued, his voice growing firmer, stronger, each word carrying a weight that felt both comforting and dangerous. “Because I know I was wrong. The town does need you, Selis. Things are changing. The people... they’re lost. They’re scared. The harvests are failing, the lake... it’s...” He trailed off, shaking his head, as if what he was about to say was too heavy to bear. “They’ve forgotten the old ways. Forgotten the gods. And you—you’re the only one who can remind them.”

Selis blinked, his anger faltering, confusion slipping in to take its place. “What... what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you have a purpose,” Finnian replied quietly, stepping closer, closing the distance between them once more. “The gods haven’t forgotten you, Selis. They’ve been waiting for you, just like the town has, even if they don’t realize it yet. They need guidance. They need someone to remind them of who they are, of where they came from.”

Finnian’s eyes seemed to glisten, and for a moment, they almost looked wet, like tears on the verge of spilling over. But his smile was unwavering, and it chilled Selis to his core.

“The gods have chosen you,” he said softly, his voice like velvet, wrapping around Selis’s frail, battered heart. “They’ve always been with you, even when you felt alone. They know your pain, your suffering, and they’ve watched you endure. And now... they want you to act. To lead.”

Selis’s lips parted, but no sound came out. The words tangled in his throat, choking him.

Lead? Him? After everything? After they had cast him aside, thrown him into the cold, expecting him to wither away?

“I—I can’t,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “They won’t listen. They’ll laugh at me, they’ll—”

“They won’t,” Finnian interrupted, his tone firm, almost commanding. “Not this time. Things have changed, Selis. The people are desperate. They’re looking for answers, for hope. They want something to believe in, and that something... is you.”

Selis shook his head, trying to pull away, but Finnian reached out, gently gripping his shoulder. The touch was light, almost tender, but it held him in place, like a vice.

“You’re stronger than you think,” Finnian said, his eyes boring into Selis’s, unyielding. “You’ve survived what would have broken most men. You have something inside you that no one else in this town has—faith. True faith. And they need that now, more than ever.”

For a long, breathless moment, Selis just stared at him. The words washed over him, seeping into the cracks of his mind, filling the spaces that had been hollowed out by doubt and fear. Lead them? Guide them? After everything? How could he be the one to save them when he could barely save himself?

But... what if it was true?

Slowly, hesitantly, the anger began to drain from his body, replaced by a strange, tentative hope. Maybe—maybe this was what the gods had been trying to tell him. Maybe everything he had suffered, everything he had endured, had led to this moment. Maybe... maybe they hadn’t abandoned him after all.

“Do you... do you really think they’ll listen?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Finnian’s smile widened, warmth flooding his gaze, but there was something beneath it, something sharp and gleaming, hidden in the dark depths of his eyes. “I know they will,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue like honey. “But first, you need to show them. You need to remind them of who you are, of what you can do.”

Selis swallowed, his mouth dry. “And... how do I do that?”

Finnian’s eyes flicked briefly to the side, as if seeing something that wasn’t there, before locking back onto Selis’s. “Come to the next council meeting,”

“Speak to them. Show them your strength. Let them see what the gods have given you.”

Selis hesitated, doubt still whispering in the back of his mind. The council? After everything they’d done. Could he really face them again?

But if this was his chance...

“I’ll think about it,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

Finnian’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker in his eyes, a flash of something sharp, like the glint of a knife in the dark. “That’s all I ask,” he murmured, his voice almost too gentle, too soft.

“I’m saying that you have a purpose,” Finnian replied quietly, taking a step closer. “The gods have always had a purpose for you, Selis. And now, more than ever, they’re calling to you. The town needs guidance. They need a shaman.”

Selis’s breath caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. A shaman? Him? No, it couldn’t be. He was nothing. A crippled, broken man, wasting away in the woods. A failure. A fool. But...

“I—I can’t,” he stammered, his voice weak. “They won’t listen. They’ll laugh at me, they’ll—”

“They won’t,” Finnian interrupted firmly. “Not this time. Things have changed, Selis. The people are desperate. They’re hungry for answers, for hope. They need someone to lead them.” His eyes locked onto Selis’s, and there was a depth there, something dark and consuming.

“They need you.”

For a long, breathless moment, Selis just stared at him. Lead them? Guide them? After everything? After all the pain, the humiliation, the betrayal? How could they possibly want him now?

But... what if it was true?

Slowly, hesitantly, the anger began to drain from his body, replaced by a strange, tentative hope. Maybe—maybe this was what the gods had been trying to tell him. Maybe everything he had suffered, everything he had endured, had led to this moment. Maybe... maybe they hadn’t abandoned him after all.

“Do you... do you really think they’ll listen?” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Finnian’s smile widened, warmth flooding his gaze. “I know they will. But first, we need to show them. We need to remind them of who you are, of what you can do.”

Selis swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “And... and how do we do that?”

“Come to the next council meeting,” he murmured softly. “Speak to them. Show them your strength. Let them see what the gods have given you.”

Selis hesitated, doubt twisting in his gut. The council? After everything they’d done? After everything they’d taken from him? Could he really face them again?

But... if this was his chance...

“I’ll think about it,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

Finnian’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flash of something sharp in his eyes—something triumphant. “That’s all I ask,” he murmured. He placed the food on the ground and turned, glancing back over his shoulder.

“But Selis?”

“Yes?”

“The town is hanging by a thread. And threads... they snap so easily.”

Further away he stopped, and with him so did time. Selis looked on breathlessly, his chest tightening as Finnian's words seemed to echo in the empty night.

“Tomorrow night, Selis. See you there.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his figure fading into the shadows, dissolving as if he’d never been there at all, leaving no footprints, no trace.

Selis stood frozen, staring after him, his mind whirling. The chill crept back in, biting at his skin, but he barely felt it. The world seemed to tilt, reality slipping just out of reach, and he found himself questioning if any of it had happened. Had Finnian really been there? Or was it another cruel vision, another twist of the gods?

But beneath it all, something else flickered to life. Something small, fragile.

Something that felt almost like hope.

“Me?” he whispered, his voice trembling, barely audible in the vast, silent dark. “A shaman again?”

The wind stirred, a low, gentle whisper that felt like a sigh. It carried Finnian’s words back to him, soft and haunting, as if the night itself was breathing them into his ears.

“See you there...”

Selis shivered, his eyes flicking back to where Finnian had disappeared. For a moment, he thought he could see a shape moving through the dark, just a hint of a shadow gliding over the snow. But when he blinked, it was gone, swallowed by the night.

He stood there, unmoving, waiting for something—anything—to make sense. All he could do was clutch at that fragile thread of hope, thin and fraying, as if it were the only thing keeping him from unravelling completely.

Somewhere in the distance, he thought he heard the faintest sound—a soft, rhythmic murmur, like the gentle lap of water against the shore.

Selis blinked, his eyes stinging with tears he hadn’t realized were there. The lake. The gods. The council. It all felt like a dream, a strange, impossible dream. And yet, Finnian’s voice had been so clear, so certain.

“Tomorrow night,” he repeated to himself, the words sounding foreign on his tongue. “Tomorrow...”

The murmur grew louder, a rhythmic, insistent pulse, and for a moment, it almost sounded like the beating of a heart. He closed his eyes, swaying slightly, letting the sound wash over him, drowning out the doubts, the fears.

The gods were watching. The gods had chosen him.

“Tomorrow,” he whispered, his lips barely moving, as if the word itself was a prayer.

He opened his eyes, and for a brief, dizzying moment, he thought he saw the faint shimmer of water glinting in the darkness, just beyond the trees, beckoning him. But when he looked closer, there was nothing there.

Selis turned, slowly making his way back to his shack, his movements stiff, mechanical, as if he was walking in a trance. The words echoed in his head, over and over, mingling with the murmur of the night, until he could no longer tell where his thoughts ended, and the whispers began.

He reached the door, hesitated for a moment, then pushed it open, stepping inside. The air was stale, heavy, but it felt safer than the dark outside.

He sat down, his hands trembling, staring at the flickering embers in the hearth, trying to hold onto that thin thread of hope, even as it threatened to slip away.

“Tomorrow night,” he whispered one last time, his voice barely audible, almost drowned out by the crackling of the fire.

And somewhere in the distance, the night whispered back, a soft, haunting echo that seemed to promise... or to warn.

“Tomorrow...”