The Mark of the Chosen

Aeron's breath came in ragged gasps as he stood in the ruined village square. The air still crackled with leftover energy from the rift, a faint hum pressing against his ears. Around him, villagers emerged cautiously from their hiding places—wide-eyed, trembling, whispering among themselves.

He gazed down at the hammer in his hands. It no longer glowed, but he could feel something still pulsing beneath the metal-a warmth that hadn't been there before.

"You have been chosen."

The words repeated in his mind again, causing a shiver to run down his spine. Chosen for what?

A hand gripped his shoulder before he could process the words. He turned to face Elder Luthan, the village's oldest and wisest. His wrinkled face showed both fear and something else – recognition.

"Come with me. Now." Aeron said, raspy.

The Hidden Chamber

Luthan guided Aeron into the remains of the village through the devastation in the direction of an ancient stone temple located along the edge of Eldrin, a structure centuries old but whose existence nobody considered. It dated back even further than the settlement itself.

He hustled to one wall and touched the palm of his hand on a specific stone. A soft click resonated in the room, and part of the flooring slid open, revealing an ancient staircase sloping down into darkness.

Aeron stood back. "What is this place?"

"This is the truth," Luthan said. "And your destiny.

They went down into a dimly lit chamber, where the walls were lined with carvings—scenes of warriors wielding weapons that shimmered with strange energy, facing monstrous creatures that looked eerily like the ones from the rift.

Aeron's stomach clenched. "These—these are the things that attacked us."

Luthan nodded grimly. "And they will return. The Riftspawn have awakened."

"Riftspawn?" Aeron repeated.

Luthan pointed to an etching near the center of the wall. It depicted a lone warrior, standing before a massive, gaping rift in the sky, holding a glowing weapon—a hammer, just like Aeron's.

Aeron took a step back. "What… what does this mean?"

"You wield the Hammer of Aetherius," Luthan said. "A weapon of the ancient Riftguard—warriors chosen to seal the rifts before they consume the world."

Aeron's throat dried up. "I'm no warrior. I'm just a blacksmith's apprentice."

Luthan shook his head. "The hammer chose you. That means you are the last of the Riftguard."

Aeron clenched his fists. This had to be a mistake. He had no training, no knowledge of magic, no experience fighting anything stronger than a stubborn iron bar in the forge.

But deep inside, something told him this was real.

The Call to Action

Before Aeron could speak, a muffled BOOM echoed through the room from afar.

Luthan's expression turned grim. "The Riftspawn are already coming back."

Aeron's thoughts were in a whirlwind. Could he actually fight? Could he really be the one to end this? He wanted to run away, wake up from this dream.

But then he remembered the child—the one he saved with a single swing of the hammer. If he hadn't done that, the boy would be dead.

He clenched the hammer in his fist.

No. He could not run.

Luthan rested a hand on his shoulder. "You have to get to the city of Ardentia. There, the High Arcanists will teach you how to keep control of the hammer's power. If rifts are actually opening again, we don't have much time."

Aeron breathed out rapidly. "So I'll go."

The Quest Commences

By morning, Aeron had packed what little he owned. The village had equipped him with provisions-leather armor, food, and a strong cloak. He was weighed down by the burden of responsibility, but he didn't look back.

As he stepped out of the village, the road to Ardentia stretched before him. The world was vast, filled with dangers he could not yet comprehend.

But one thing was for sure.

This was only the start.