The first light of dawn spilled over the rolling hills, bathing the small village in a soft golden glow. Birds began their morning chorus, and the gentle breeze carried the scents of damp earth and blooming wildflowers through narrow streets lined with humble cottages. The village was quiet—peaceful as it had been for generations—untouched by the struggles and ambitions that plagued the distant kingdoms.
Inside a modest wooden house at the edge of the village, Kaelen's eyes fluttered open. The room was simple: rough-hewn wooden beams, a low bed, a small table with a cracked clay cup, and a single window where the sunlight filtered through pale linen curtains. The air was cool and smelled faintly of wood smoke.
He lay still for a moment, breathing shallowly as fragments of a dream clung to his mind—shadows dancing, a voice calling, bones shattering into dust. The memories were elusive, like smoke slipping through fingers, but the ache they left was real and deep.
Sitting up slowly, Kaelen ran a hand through his tangled dark hair, trying to steady the strange feeling inside him. There was a part of him that felt unfinished, as though a thread in the tapestry of his existence had been cut short.
Soft footsteps sounded in the hall outside, then the gentle creak of the door opening.
"Kaelen, the day grows old fast," came the firm but loving voice of his grandmother. "You'll want to eat before the village wakes fully."
He smiled faintly—though he'd only lived here for a few months, the sound of her voice was the one thing he trusted. "I'm coming," he said, his voice still hoarse.
He rose, the cool wooden floor beneath his feet grounding him in the present. The room where his grandmother waited was warm and bright, filled with the rich aroma of fresh bread and herbs simmering in a pot.
She sat at the head of the table, her silver-streaked hair pulled back into a tight braid. Though her face was lined with age, her eyes shone with sharp intelligence and quiet authority. It was clear she was a woman accustomed to commanding respect without raising her voice.
"Good morning, Kaelen," she said as she placed a steaming bowl of stew before him. "Eat well. You'll need your strength."
Across the table sat a tall man with broad shoulders and a stern face partially hidden by a neatly trimmed beard. He held a scroll in one hand but lowered it to study Kaelen with a calm, calculating gaze. Though he spoke little, his presence filled the room with an unspoken authority.
At the far side, Kaelen's sister bustled about with light steps, her eyes bright with affection. She caught his gaze and gave him a playful wink, her smile warm and filled with a love that went beyond mere sibling bonds.
As Kaelen sat down, the mixture of familial warmth and quiet strength wrapped around him like a protective cloak. Yet beneath it all, a strange emptiness gnawed at him—the absence of memories, the sense of a life left behind.
His grandmother's eyes flickered with something unreadable as she watched him eat. "The gods have their designs, child. Sometimes, we do not understand the threads they weave until the pattern is revealed."
Kaelen swallowed, unsure what to say. He felt an unfamiliar weight settling on his shoulders, as if unseen forces were pulling at his destiny.
Outside, the village was beginning to stir — the blacksmith's hammer rang out from the forge, children's laughter echoed in the streets, and merchants called to each other, setting up stalls for the market day.
Kaelen's thoughts drifted to the dreams he could not grasp. He had a name for the power stirring inside him — necromancy — though the word felt distant, foreign, as if borrowed from another life.
He glanced toward the window, watching the sunlight dance on the leaves. Somewhere beyond this village, beyond this life, lay the answers he sought.
But for now, here and now, this simple home was all he knew. The love of a grandmother who carried secrets in her eyes, a father whose strength was whispered about but never openly discussed, and a sister whose devotion was fierce and pure.
Kaelen took a deep breath and resolved to make this day the beginning of something greater — a journey to reclaim what was lost, to awaken the power buried deep within.
Unseen, a faint pulse thrummed beneath his skin — a legacy waiting to be awakened, a destiny yet to unfold.