⭐ CHAPTER 2 — The Boy Who Dreamed of Shadows
The village of Raelor woke slowly, like a sleepy animal stretching under the rising sun. Smoke curled from chimneys, goats bleated from fences, and women exchanged morning greetings as they swept their courtyards. Life here followed a calm rhythm, untouched by cultivation or cosmic prophecies.
But today… the rhythm felt uneven.
Riven Soltray walked through the narrow lane, rubbing the last traces of a strange dream from his eyes. He didn't know why, but something about the morning air felt unfamiliar—heavy, like the calm before a storm he couldn't see.
His house, a small mud-and-stone hut, remained behind him. Ahead lay the open fields where villagers tended to crops. He carried a bundle of tools for repairing fences, but his mind kept drifting back to what he had seen.
The sky. Red eyes. A crack splitting the world for a heartbeat.
Why does it feel real…?
He shook his head. "It's just a dream," he told himself again. "Just… a dream."
Yet, a part of him refused to believe that.
---
The Village Elder's Warning
At the well, the village elder—old, wrinkled, leaning on a polished wooden cane—stopped Riven with a raised hand.
"Riven, child," the elder rasped, his clouded eyes studying him a bit too long. "You look… restless."
Riven forced a smile. "Just tired, Elder. I was repairing the roof late last night."
"Hmm…" The old man's lips drew into a thin line. "Any… strange dreams?"
Riven froze.
"Dreams?" he repeated casually. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason," the elder said quickly, though his fingers tightened on the cane. "Lately, some villagers reported… noises at night. A whispering wind. Shadows where they shouldn't be."
Riven's heartbeat stumbled.
He forced a laugh. "Ghost stories, Elder."
"Yes," the elder murmured. "Stories."
He tapped the cane twice on the ground.
"Be careful today, Riven. Do not wander too far from the fields."
Riven nodded and walked away.
But long after leaving, he felt the faint weight of the elder's gaze on his back—heavy and knowing.
---
Strange Patterns in the Fields
Raelor's fields spread out behind the village like a soft golden blanket. Wheat swayed gently in the wind, sunlight glittering along the stalks. It was peaceful, comforting, normal.
But this normal didn't last.
Riven reached the broken fence he was supposed to repair—but instead of starting work, he found himself staring at the ground.
There, faint but clear, the soil carried thin black patterns.
Lines. Curves. Spirals.
Like something had crawled beneath the earth.
Riven crouched. "What is this…?"
He reached out to touch the dark markings—
The earth trembled.
Only slightly. But enough.
He jerked back.
The black pattern faded instantly, becoming ordinary soil.
As if hiding from him.
Riven swallowed hard.
He looked around.
Nothing. Just fields and wind.
But his heart beat faster.
---
A Voice on the Wind
He stood slowly, breaths shallow. The quiet around him felt unnatural now—too still, too expectant.
Then—
A breeze brushed his ear.
Soft.
Cold.
Whispering.
"Riven…"
His blood froze.
He spun around.
No one.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
Silence.
His pulse throbbed. The tools in his hand felt heavier. The shadows beneath the wheat seemed longer, darker.
Riven took a step back.
Then another.
"Calm down," he muttered. "You're imagining things."
But deep inside… he wasn't sure.
---
A Stranger Arrives
From the far side of the field, a figure approached—slow, limping slightly, wrapped in a traveler's cloak. The cloth was dusty, the hood low, hiding most of the face.
Riven tensed. Strangers rarely visited Raelor.
The man stopped a few steps away.
"Are you Riven Soltray?" he asked, voice steady but strangely echoed—as if layered with something faint beneath.
Riven stiffened. "Who are you?"
"A traveler," the man replied. "I've been searching for you."
Riven gripped his tools tighter. "Why?"
The stranger studied him.
His gaze—though unseen—felt sharp.
Finally, the man spoke.
"There is something you carry," he said quietly. "Something you haven't awakened yet. Something others will come for."
Riven felt cold. "I don't understand—"
"You don't have to." The man lifted the hood slightly—enough to reveal tired eyes with faint silver rings around the pupils. "Not yet."
Riven stepped back instinctively.
Silver eyes…
He had only heard of them in old stories villagers told children—stories about cultivators who roamed the world, fighting beasts and demons.
"You're… one of them?" Riven whispered.
"A cultivator? No."
The stranger smiled faintly.
"I'm something far more ordinary."
Which instantly sounded like a lie.
---
The Warning
The man paused, then said in a soft, urgent tone:
"Listen carefully, boy. Strange things will happen in this village. Soon. And when they do—you must not be alone."
Riven stared.
"Why me?" he whispered.
"You will learn when the time is right."
The man turned to leave—but stopped midway.
Without looking back, he added:
"And Riven… if you hear the whispers again—do not reply."
A chill crawled up Riven's spine.
"Why?"
The stranger's voice deepened, almost sorrowful.
"Because it isn't calling your name."
Riven's breath hitched.
"It's calling what sleeps inside you."
---
The Disappearance
The man walked away, cloak fluttering. Riven blinked once—
And he was gone.
Not vanished. Not teleported. Just… gone, like he melted into the landscape.
Riven's hands trembled.
He didn't understand any of this.
The dreams. The crack in the ground. The strange patterns. The whisper. The stranger.
Everything felt like pieces of a giant puzzle someone dumped into his life without warning.
He exhaled slowly, trying to gather his thoughts.
"I should tell the Elder," he muttered. "Maybe he—"
The ground beneath him trembled again.
More than before.
This time, enough to make dust rise.
Enough to hush the birds.
Enough to scare him.
Riven staggered back.
"What now—"
A crack appeared in the soil.
Thin.
Black.
The same as before.
But this time…
It didn't vanish.
It spread.
---
The Awakening
The crack widened…
like a claw tearing through the earth.
Riven stumbled away, but his foot snagged on a root and he fell to the ground.
He tried to crawl back, but the crack pulsed—red light faintly leaking from within.
A sound rose.
A whisper.
Not from the wind.
From the crack.
"....found… you…."
Riven's heart pounded so violently he felt sick.
"No," he breathed. "No, no—"
The light inside the crack flared once—
And something reached out.
Not a hand.
Not a shadow.
Something in between—shaped like both, belonging to neither.
Riven screamed and scrambled backward—
But the thing only brushed his ankle lightly.
Barely a touch.
Yet in that instant—
—his vision exploded.
---
A Moment Not Meant for Mortals
Colors he had never seen. Shapes he could not understand. Sounds that felt like living creatures wrapped around him.
Voices.
Hundreds.
Calling.
Crying.
Laughing.
Praying.
He saw mountains cracking apart.
A sky burning red.
A spear glowing like a star.
A beast of shadow rising from a blood-soaked battlefield.
A pair of crimson eyes staring into his soul.
Then—
another flash.
A peaceful meadow.
A woman with soft hair and a gentle smile.
Holding a baby wrapped in cloth.
A baby with golden eyes.
Riven's eyes.
The woman whispered:
"My child… live."
Then everything shattered.
---
Back to Reality
Riven gasped and collapsed onto the soil, sweating, shaking, struggling for breath.
The crack sealed itself instantly—as if nothing had happened.
The field stood silent.
Motionless.
Unchanged.
Riven stared at the ground, chest heaving.
"What… was that…?"
His legs trembled so badly he could barely stand.
When he finally forced himself up, one truth pulsed hard in his mind:
This was not a dream.
This was real.
Something out there had found him.
And it was coming.
---
Chapter End