Darkness draws near

Back in the mystical enclave of Eldoria, beneath the canopy of ancient trees that whispered secrets of old, the village elders gathered in solemn assembly. Their meeting place, a clearing bathed in the ethereal glow of bioluminescent flora, lent an otherworldly atmosphere to their council. At the heart of their discussion lay a matter of grave importance—the impending full moon and the prophesied emergence of the Bakunawa, a creature of legend destined to bring darkness upon the land.

Auring, the venerable leader of the Eldoria elders, stood at the head of the circle, her presence commanding yet gentle. Her eyes, reflecting the wisdom of years and the burdens of leadership, moved over the faces of her fellow elders as she prepared to address the concern that weighed heavily on all their hearts.

"Friends, time draws near," Auring began, her voice steady and clear. "The full moon approaches, and with it, the Bakunawa threatens to rise from the depths, seeking to engulf the moon and cast our world into darkness. This is a fate we have long sought to prevent, guided by the prophecy that has been the beacon of our hopes."

She paused, allowing her words to resonate among those gathered, each elder acutely aware of the stakes at hand. "The prophecy speaks of a warrior, a sellsword with the heart and strength to confront the Bakunawa. Lucius is the one foretold, yet he walks a path fraught with doubt and denial of the destiny that calls to him."

A murmur of concern swept through the elders, the name of Lucius stirring a mix of hope and apprehension. They had placed their faith in the prophecy, in the belief that the chosen one would rise to face the darkness. Yet, the uncertainty of human will and the complexity of fate remained ever-present challenges.

"We must trust in the prophecy, in the journey that Lucius undertakes," Auring continued, her voice imbued with an unwavering belief. "Even now, Bran walks with him, a guide and mentor who understands the weight of destiny. Though Lucius has yet to accept his role, we must hold fast to the belief that he will find his way, that the light within him will awaken to the call of duty."

The mention of Bran brought nods of agreement from the elders, their faith in the healer's wisdom and guidance a testament to their collective hope. "Bran knows the heart of Eldoria, the power and magic that bind us to the forces of light," Auring added. "He will not falter in his task to guide Lucius, to illuminate the path that leads back to us, back to the fulfillment of the prophecy."

As the discussion drew to a close, the elders stood united in their resolve, their trust in the prophecy unwavering despite the challenges ahead. They understood that the battle against the Bakunawa was not just a confrontation of physical might but a test of faith, a struggle against the creeping tendrils of despair.

"Let us prepare," Auring concluded, her gaze sweeping over the circle of elders. "Let us fortify our spirits and our village, for the full moon draws near. We stand as guardians of light, as keepers of hope. Eldoria will remain a beacon in the darkness, steadfast in our belief that Lucius will emerge as the warrior foretold, our champion against the night."

With that, the elders disbanded, each carrying with them the weight of the coming days and the flicker of hope that, even now, Bran and Lucius were moving ever closer to their destiny, guided by the unseen hand of fate and the unbreakable will of Eldoria.

As the assembly of elders dispersed, their forms melting back into the shadowy embrace of Eldoria's ancient trees, one elder lingered. His name was Caloy, a man whose years had brought not only wisdom but a cautious skepticism that often set him apart from his peers. He approached Auring, his steps deliberate, his expression a tapestry of concern and doubt.

"Auring," he began, his voice low, ensuring their conversation remained private. "You speak of faith in the prophecy, in Bran's guidance and Lucius's destiny. But tell me, can we truly place the fate of Eldoria in the hands of a sellsword? A man whose life has been spent chasing monsters for a mere change of coin?"

Caloy's skepticism was not new; he had always viewed the world through a lens of pragmatism, questioning where others accepted, doubting where others believed. "Sellswords are barbarians at their core, mercenaries driven by greed rather than honor. How can we trust that Lucius, this... sellsword, is the champion foretold? And Bran, for all his wisdom, can he truly awaken the hero within a man who has known nothing but battle for profit?"

Auring listened intently, her gaze steady and unyielding. She had anticipated these doubts, understood them even, for the burden they faced was immense, and the path ahead fraught with uncertainty. Yet, her faith remained unshaken, bolstered not by naivety but by a deep-seated belief in the greater forces at play.

"Caloy," she responded, her voice imbued with a quiet strength, "your concerns are not without merit. Sellswords, indeed, live lives far removed from the ideals we cherish. But Lucius is more than the sum of his past deeds. The prophecy does not speak of a champion born of noble blood or heroic lineage. It speaks of a heart brave enough to stand against the darkness, a spirit willing to rise above the shadows of doubt and fear."

She paused, allowing her words to resonate in the cool, forest air. "As for Bran, his faith in Lucius is not misplaced. He sees the potential for greatness, the capacity for change. And if we, as the elders of Eldoria, cannot hold space for that potential, for that belief in transformation, then are we not also doubting the very essence of what we stand for?"

Caloy regarded Auring, her conviction a stark contrast to his skepticism. In her words, he found not just rebuke but an invitation to trust—to believe in the possibility of change, in the power of prophecy to guide them through the darkest of times.

"Perhaps you are right, Auring," Caloy conceded, the edges of his doubt softened by her unwavering belief. "Perhaps it is my own fears that blind me to the possibilities before us. For Eldoria, for the light we seek to preserve, I will try to set aside my reservations and trust in the path the prophecy has laid out for us."

Yet, as he turned to walk away, the resolve in his steps and the set of his jaw spoke of a man far from convinced. Deep within, Caloy harbored reservations too strong to be swayed by words alone. His agreement was but a veneer, a mask worn to placate the concerns of his fellow elder, to avoid sowing further discord within their ranks.

In the privacy of his own thoughts, Caloy wrestled with a skepticism that refused to be silenced. The idea that their salvation rested on the shoulders of a sellsword—a man who had known nothing but the pursuit of coin through violence—was a gamble Caloy could not fully commit to. And Bran, for all his wisdom and magic, was but one man against the darkness that loomed on the horizon.

Determined to protect Eldoria by any means necessary, Caloy began to entertain the notion of taking matters into his own hands. If the prophecy was to be their guiding star, he reasoned, then precautions must be in place, a contingency plan should Lucius fail to rise to the occasion. Caloy was not a man to leave the fate of his people to chance, not when action could be taken, not when there were still cards to be played.

As he melted back into the shadows of Eldoria's ancient trees, Caloy's mind worked tirelessly, crafting a strategy that would ensure the safety of their village, with or without the sellsword's victory. His temporary agreement with Auring was but a diplomatic move, a way to bide his time as he prepared to implement measures that would safeguard Eldoria from the looming threat of the Bakunawa.