Kaelen woke with a start, the gray light of dawn seeping through the cracks in the shutters and painting the cottage walls in thin, trembling lines. His heart hammered in his chest, sweat slick on his brow. The dream still clung to him—he'd been back beneath the willow, the mysterious woman's voice echoing in his mind: "There are others like you. Others who remember." But in the dream, her face had shifted, becoming a mask of silver, and her words had twisted into a warning: "The temple does not forgive. The temple never forgets."
He sat up slowly, listening to the hush that filled the room. Lira was curled on her cot, her small hand clutching the edge of her blanket. Their mother, already awake, moved quietly by the hearth, feeding the embers and preparing the morning meal. Kaelen's gaze drifted to the loose floorboard at the foot of his bed. He slipped from his cot, careful not to wake Lira, and knelt by the board. With practiced fingers, he pried it up and checked the hiding place.
The battered book and the bone token lay nestled in the dust. He ran his thumb over the token's etched surface, tracing the broken circle of stars. The secret felt heavier this morning, as if it had grown overnight. He replaced the floorboard and sat back, staring at the faint light seeping into the room. Something had changed in him since the meeting beneath the willow. He felt it—a strange, simmering purpose, a sense that he was no longer just a bystander in his own life.
He dressed quickly and joined his mother by the hearth. She glanced at him, her eyes shadowed with worry.
"You didn't sleep," she said quietly.
Kaelen shrugged. "Bad dreams."
She nodded, as if she understood. "There are more guards in the village this morning. Stay close. And keep your head down."
He nodded, feeling the weight of her fear settle on his shoulders.
#
Outside, the village was already stirring, but the usual morning bustle was subdued. The air was thick with tension, and everywhere Kaelen looked, he saw temple guards. They moved in pairs, their silver masks catching the pale light, their eyes cold and watchful. They stopped villagers at random, searching baskets and bundles, peering into windows, their presence a constant reminder of the temple's power.
Kaelen fetched water from the well, his steps slow and deliberate. As he filled the bucket, he heard whispers from two women nearby.
"They took old Joran last night," one murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. "Dragged him from his bed. His wife says she hasn't seen him since."
"Blasphemy, they said," the other replied, shaking her head. "But Joran was a good man. He never spoke against the gods."
Kaelen's grip tightened on the bucket. He glanced back at his family's cottage. Two guards stood across the lane, watching the door. Their presence was a silent accusation. He forced himself to meet their gaze, refusing to look away. After a moment, one of them nodded, almost imperceptibly, as if acknowledging a challenge.
He carried the water inside, jaw tight. His mother was kneading dough, her hands moving with nervous energy. Lira sat at the table, her eyes wide and anxious.
"Did you see the guards?" Lira whispered as Kaelen set the bucket down.
He nodded. "They're everywhere."
Their mother shot him a warning look. "Keep your voice down. And keep your head down. Today of all days."
Kaelen helped with the morning chores, his mind churning. The villagers moved through the day like ghosts, speaking in hushed tones, glancing over their shoulders. Rumors swirled: who had been taken, who would be next, who had spoken out of turn. The old sense of uneasy peace was gone, replaced by suspicion and fear.
#
At midday, the temple's grip tightened further. A priest stood in the square, his voice ringing out over the silent crowd.
"Hear me, people of Elden's Hollow! The gods demand obedience. Dissent will not be tolerated. Those who question the temple's wisdom will face the wrath of Zerathis. Let this be a warning."
As he spoke, two guards dragged a weeping woman from her home. Kaelen recognized her—Mira, the baker's wife. The priest accused her of blasphemy, of doubting the gods' justice. She protested her innocence, but her pleas were drowned out by the priest's proclamation.
"She will be taken to the temple for atonement," he declared. "Let her fate remind you all: faith is not a choice. It is a duty."
The villagers watched in silence, fear etched into every face. Kaelen felt a surge of anger and helplessness. How many more would be taken before someone fought back?
#
That afternoon, as Kaelen split firewood behind the cottage, he noticed something odd—a piece of kindling, marked with a symbol. He picked it up, heart pounding. The broken circle of stars was carved into the wood, almost invisible unless you knew to look for it.
He turned the piece over, searching for more. On the underside, a single word was scratched: *Tonight.*
Kaelen's mind raced. Was it a warning? A summons? He remembered the woman's words: "For now? Your silence. Your eyes and ears. When the time comes, you'll know what to do."
He tucked the marked wood into his pocket and finished his chores, all the while watching for any sign that he was being followed.
#
Inside, Lira was humming to herself as she arranged wildflowers in a jar. She looked up as Kaelen entered.
"Kael, what does the broken circle mean?" she asked, her voice innocent. "I saw it in the mud by the well, and now on your firewood. Is it a sign from the Old Gods?"
Kaelen's blood ran cold. "Where did you hear that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
"I just… heard people talking. And you had that token, remember?"
Before Kaelen could reply, their mother appeared in the doorway, her eyes sharp. "Lira, enough. No more talk of the Old Gods. It's dangerous."
"But Mama—"
"No," she said, her voice trembling. "Promise me, both of you. No more questions. Not now."
Kaelen nodded, but inside, he felt a chill of dread. If Lira's curiosity had reached the wrong ears…
A knock sounded at the door. Kaelen's heart leapt into his throat. His mother opened it to find a priest and two guards waiting outside.
"We're conducting a search," the priest announced, his tone cold. "Step aside."
They entered, turning over baskets, opening cupboards, searching every corner. Kaelen stood by the hearth, forcing himself to breathe evenly. The priest's gaze lingered on him, then on Lira.
"Young one," the priest said, "have you heard any strange stories lately? Anyone speak to you of the Old Gods?"
Lira shook her head, wide-eyed. "No, honored priest."
The priest studied her for a moment, then turned away. The search continued, but nothing was found. At last, the priest nodded to Kaelen's mother.
"Be vigilant. Doubt is a disease. It spreads quickly."
They left, and Kaelen's mother sank into a chair, shaking.
"That was too close," she whispered. "We must be more careful."
Kaelen nodded, guilt gnawing at him. His secrets were putting them all at risk.
#
As dusk fell, Kaelen slipped away to his room. He pulled out the book and the token, lighting a candle to read by. Near the back of the book, he found a passage he hadn't noticed before:
*When the time comes, the stars will guide you. Trust the signs. Trust those who walk in shadow.*
He fingered the marked piece of firewood, feeling the weight of the message. Tonight. Something would happen tonight.
He waited until the cottage was quiet, then slipped outside, moving like a shadow through the alleys. The village was tense, guards patrolling with torches, their faces hidden behind silver masks.
Kaelen made his way to the home of Mira, the baker's wife. He had heard whispers that she was to be moved to the temple at midnight. If he was to prove himself, now was the time.
He crept to the back door, heart pounding. Inside, Mira sat on a stool, her hands bound, two guards standing nearby. Kaelen waited, watching as one guard stepped outside to relieve himself. The other sat by the fire, dozing.
Kaelen moved quickly, untying Mira's hands. She mouthed a silent thank you, tears streaming down her face.
They slipped out the side door, moving through the shadows. Kaelen led her to the old root cellar behind the blacksmith's shop—a place he knew the guards rarely searched.
"Stay here," he whispered. "I'll come back when it's safe."
She nodded, clutching his hand. "Bless you, Kaelen. Bless you."
He slipped away, heart racing. As he neared the square, he saw the mysterious woman waiting in the shadows.
"You did well," she whispered. "You have courage."
Kaelen swallowed. "What happens now?"
"Now you wait. There will be more tests. More danger. But you are not alone."
She pressed a small token into his hand—a silver star, broken in the middle.
"Keep this. When the time comes, it will open doors."
She melted into the darkness, leaving Kaelen alone.
#
The village buzzed with rumors the next morning. Mira had vanished, the guards furious, the priest demanding answers.
Kaelen kept his head down, but inside, he felt a strange exhilaration. He had crossed a line. There was no turning back.
That night, as he sat by the hearth, he noticed a patrol lingering outside his home. The priest's gaze lingered on him during evening prayers.
Kaelen clenched the token in his fist, steeling himself for what was to come. He had chosen his path. He would protect his family. He would seek the truth.
No matter the cost.
Outside, the village lay in uneasy silence, the shadows deepening as the temple's grip tightened.
---
*End of Chapter 4*