The air in Drovemarch was heavy with ash and silence. No birds sang here, no wind stirred except for whispers. Broken stone arched over streets that had forgotten their names. The ruins smelled of iron and rain-soaked stone, and every step Eldric took pressed him deeper into the stillness.
He woke curled in the hollow of a collapsed archway. His body ached. The sky above was a dull smear of grey, unbroken except for the faint tremor of light somewhere far above the horizon. His breath came slow, each exhale curling in the air like smoke.
His hands touched the dust fine, cold, and unyielding. The world around him felt like a dream half-remembered, a dream that had ended long ago.
For as long as he could recall, he had no memory of a home. No parents. No name beyond what the others called him in passing Eldric. Just a boy in the ash.
He rose, the sound of his boots against stone muffled, as though Drovemarch itself absorbed noise. Around him, the district lay in quiet ruin. Buildings split open like wounded beasts, their frames blackened and groaning. Broken glass reflected nothing but darkness.
In the distance, a bell tolled once. It was slow, hollow. Not mechanical. Not human. Something deeper.
Eldric moved toward it. His steps felt guided, though he did not know why. The streets stretched longer than they should, winding in ways that made sense only to the mind of dreams. Somewhere along the way, he noticed that the shadows moved differently not with the wind, but as if they had their own will.
When he reached the place the sound came from, he found a square framed by collapsed towers. At its center lay a fountain, dry, cracked, and choked with black flowers. Their petals shimmered faintly, though no light touched them.
A whisper came.
Not the wind. Not an echo. A voice inside his head so quiet that at first he thought it was his own thought.
"Find it."
He froze. The word clung to his mind, heavier than any stone.
There was no one. No shape. Only the air, cold and still.
He touched one of the black petals. It crumbled beneath his fingers. When it did, a memory flickered a face, pale and smiling, but broken and impossible to hold. The memory vanished the moment he tried to seize it.
Eldric staggered back. His breath was shallow. The whisper came again, softer this time.
"Find… the lantern."
The words felt like a weight in his chest. He had no idea what they meant. He had never heard of a lantern in this place. Yet somehow, they pulled him forward.
He moved through Drovemarch, through ash-laden alleys, past doors that led to nothing but black air. The district shifted with every step. Walls seemed to lean closer, breathing. Stones rearranged themselves underfoot, as if Drovemarch was not a place but a living thing.
Hours passed without sun or night. Time had no meaning here.
He came to a place the others called The Broken Hall a ruin that once must have been a great hall. Now it was a skeleton of stone and shadow. At its center stood an archway, untouched by collapse. Its surface was carved with runes that pulsed faintly.
Something inside him stirred.
He stepped toward it. The air around the arch felt different thicker, colder. The whispers became louder, closer.
"Find it."
His breath caught. The stone under his hand was warm. Not warmth of life, but warmth of something ancient, something waking.
He drew his hand away. His heart beat too fast. The world felt heavier, darker. He knew, without understanding how, that this place was the start of something.
Something that would demand everything.
Eldric turned away from the arch. He walked toward the outer edge of Drovemarch. Somewhere beyond the ruin lay the Hermet enclaves, the Garden of Remembrance, the Cairnhold threshold. Somewhere beyond lay the path to what he sought the Forgotten Lantern.
And somewhere in him, something whispered that he was ready to go.
As he stepped into the ash-stained streets once more, Drovemarch seemed to sigh. Not in sound, but in the stillness that followed his departure.
The boy was gone.
The journey had begun.