The Chronicles Of Eternity

---

Looking up, all he saw was a ceiling.

Old beams ran overhead, darkened with age and soot, the corners webbed with dust. A small square window let in a streak of early light. Somewhere outside, chickens argued noisily. Somewhere closer, water boiled.

Kael blinked hard. His body ached—his ribs especially—and his head pounded as if something large had taken residence there. When he tried to sit up, pain gripped his side and forced him to breathe in short gasps.

He remembered only pieces: The campfire. The ambush. Screaming. Lira— The pain behind his head.

And then nothing.

He pushed himself upright, ignoring the sharp protest from his side.

"Lira?" he rasped, his voice dry.

No answer.

A tight panic twisted through his chest.

"Lira!" he said louder, staggering to his feet.

But before he could reach the door, it creaked open—and there she was.

Still standing. Still whole.

Her arm was bandaged, her face scratched, but her eyes—tired and sharp—met his immediately.

"You're supposed to be in bed," she said.

Kael let out a breath that wasn't quite a laugh. "You're alright."

She nodded. "And you're an idiot."

He slumped back onto the cot, the pain catching up again. "What happened?"

"You took a bad hit. One of the bandits got behind you. We were outnumbered. Alfred held the front, but we wouldn't have made it."

Kael's brow furrowed. "Then who—?"

"The villagers," she said softly. "They heard the fighting and came with weapons. Pulled us out. No questions asked."

---

The village was called Hallowrest—a tired name for a tired place, nestled in a forgotten pocket of land between the human roads and the scattered clans. It wasn't large. No gates. No banners. Just a few stone homes, smoke from crooked chimneys, and people who looked like they'd survived more winters than they cared to count.

But it was safe. And quiet.

The villagers offered them shelter and food without pressing for answers. An elderly healer named Mava treated their wounds, tutting softly whenever Kael flinched. Children brought fresh bandages. Someone left stew outside their door each night.

By the second day, Kael learned how Mava always hummed old lullabies while grinding herbs, and how Alfred's face twitched every time someone referred to him as "the tall quiet one."

"If one more kid hands me boiled roots and calls me mister," Alfred muttered on the third morning, "I'm going to scream."

Lira smirked. "You're just upset they said you look grumpy."

"I am grumpy. I'm recovering."

Kael chuckled, then winced. His ribs still protested when he laughed too hard.

"That's what you get for blocking with your torso," Lira teased.

"It was a calculated move. I miscalculated."

---

They stayed for six days.

Each evening, they sat under the same crooked tree behind Mava's hut, watching the sky shift from gold to indigo. Alfred cleaned their gear. Lira would sometimes go silent, eyes tracing the horizon, and Kael would stare at his hand, feeling the soft thrum of Aunnex through the pendant beneath his shirt.

The dreams didn't stop.

He saw the same vision again and again: a buried tower, a hollow canyon, a second shard calling through time. Each morning, he woke earlier, more restless.

On the fourth day, Lira caught him trying to pack his things.

"Not yet," she said, arms crossed.

"We need to go."

"We need to heal," she shot back.

He sighed, sinking back onto the stool. "I don't like sitting still."

She softened slightly. "Neither do I. But dead men don't finish journeys."

---

They met Rye on the fifth day.

He was young—fifteen, maybe sixteen—with messy brown hair and a patched tunic. Kael first noticed him trailing them near the bakery, then later near the stream.

Finally, Rye approached while Kael sat on a bench outside a storehouse, eating dry bread.

"I saw you," Rye said, voice casual. "During the fight."

Kael narrowed his eyes. "You and half the village, probably."

"Maybe. But I also heard you and your friend," Rye added, glancing toward Lira and Alfred. "Talking. About traveling east. About finding something... dangerous."

Kael didn't reply.

"I don't care what it is," Rye said quickly. "I'm not trying to get in your business. But I know these roads. The lands between here and the clans—especially the eastern ridge—it's twisted. Broken. Most travelers don't make it through."

Kael tilted his head. "And you do?"

"My mother was a guide. She taught me. I've been through parts others won't go. I can help."

Kael crossed his arms. "Why?"

Rye hesitated. "Because no one ever leaves this place. They just get old, or disappear. I want to do something more."

Kael said nothing for a long time.

Then: "We're still deciding."

"Decide fast," Rye said. "That road doesn't wait."

---

That evening, the group met beneath an old willow at the edge of the village.

Aunnex's fragment lay hidden beneath Kael's shirt, but he could feel it thrum whenever he faced east.

"I saw it again," Kael said, looking at them both. "A tower. Half buried. Tipped sideways in a hollow canyon. I think the next shard's there."

Lira sat on a tree stump, her brow furrowed. "That's beyond the Dargel Cross. Clan territory. The old ridge."

"I know."

"That area hasn't seen peace in years," Alfred said. "The humans tried to reclaim it once. Now it's contested and cursed."

"I still have to go," Kael said. "That shard's calling."

Alfred looked between them. "Then we'll plan properly. Routes. Supplies. Shelter."

Kael nodded.

Then Lira added quietly, "We'll need someone who knows the land."

Kael smirked faintly. "You want the boy."

"He's resourceful. Knows the terrain. He's... curious, but not stupid."

Alfred grunted. "Just don't let him get us killed."

---

That night, Kael found Rye outside, skipping stones across a shallow stream.

"We're leaving in two days," Kael said. "If you're coming, be ready."

Rye looked up slowly, surprised.

Then he grinned. "I will."

---

Their final day in Hallowrest was quieter. Mava gave Kael an herb satchel. Lira taught two local girls how to braid travel knots. Alfred sat with an old carpenter, trading blade stories.

Rye bounced with restless energy, asking endless questions: How far were they going? Would they meet monsters? Did Kael really fight with glowing hands?

"You're worse than Lira," Kael muttered.

Lira grinned. "No one's worse than me."

---

The morning they left, the sky was pale and low with mist.

No one stopped them. A few villagers offered quiet nods. One handed Alfred a walking staff. Another gave Rye a bag of dried meat and berries.

As they walked beyond the trees, Kael looked back once and saw Hallowrest fading into the green.

Then he turned forward, toward the eastern ridge. Toward danger. Toward another shard of himself.

---