Morning came slowly to Eldergrove. The sky was gray, and the cold wind carried the uneasy cries of crows across the empty fields. Villagers gathered in the square, whispering nervously about the man who had disappeared in the night.
Elias Rowan stood at the edge of the crowd, the cursed ring heavy on his finger. Though it was only iron, it felt as though it weighed more with each passing day.
Grandmother Elira approached him slowly with her crooked walking stick.
"You opened it," she said.
Elias frowned. "Opened what?"
"The thing beneath the soil."
He hesitated before answering. "It was just a chest."
Elira shook her head.
"There are no just chests buried that deep. Not in land that old."
Her eyes moved to the ring.
"The curse has chosen its beginning."
A chill ran through Elias.
"What curse?"
But Elira only whispered one word.
"Ravaryn."
Before Elias could ask more, the ground beneath the village trembled softly, as though something beneath the earth had turned in its sleep.
And deep within the Whispering Forest, something listened.