The Keeper's Awakening

Heavy was the moon over the forest, and in the misty darkness below, it cast long shadows. Ancient trees whispered secrets on rustling leaves in a village that seemed secluded, its mysteries interpreted by silences where history drifted from one forgotten generation to another.

The wind howled, silently moving through the village, and yet something stirred in those woods, something ancient and dark.

At that very door, Lyra stood there, gazing into the dark wood. She could smell wildflowers and herbs in the air, but then there was something else. Something felt off.

For long, she had lived a life of symbiosis with it being all as the village herbalist, always by the side to serve her people; however, under all those stars that were watching her, she heard the air shifting around her.

Everything around her seemed denser.

Before she had time to think, something emerged from the darkness, clad in grime-stained armor and gore. Since he was likely fleeing something awful, he was moving even more slowly.

Lyra's heart missed a beat. She knew the faces of her village, and this man, this outsider, was not one of them. When their dark eyes met, she felt, but never admitted, something strange, like a magnetism between the two of them that was not just sexual.

"Y... You are the Keeper," he said breathlessly, now almost too quiet for her to hear.

Lyra was taken aback.

A shudder wormed its way up her spine.

She began to connect the dots, realizing how she had always heard myths and stories of the chosen ones who guard the realm known as the Keepers, and it was just in that moment that she realized why she never believed them.

For she was, after all, just a simple herbalist searching for

Before she had spoken a single word, the weird man fell on the ground, and the blood began dripping into the ground. Hours passed by, and the stranger lay unconscious in her cottage with shallow and weak breathing sounds.

Lyra had been looming over him in a thoughtful mood. She had cured so many injuries in her lifetime, but this was different from all of them.

It was the beautiful, painful wound of the unattainable. Though he was unconscious, the shadows around his body seemed to breathe in his eyes. The pulsation of the shadows made him almost seem alive.

Before he lost consciousness, he mentioned that the name he used was 'Kieran.'

Now, she was alone with a man like that, and its thoughts were much too complicated for her to think.

Out of nowhere, Lira began to feel this creeping sense of fear and the burden of the world around her.

And today, she had always felt this nagging itch that she did not actually belong in the village, but she had never felt a need to nip at her curiosity.

She couldn't help but feel that running away from the sense that her reality was altogether different was futile.

After the first day, Kieran's eyelids fluttered like a butterfly opening its wings as he groggily opened his eyes. And that look, with new life in it, was the sake of it all.

Lyra squeezed her chest, but it was not a happy way.

This time Kieran's voice was genuine and strong, though a bit strained.

"Believe me when I tell you this: this world is dangerous. Duskwraiths are coming."

"Duskwraiths?" Lyra said, but she said it as she grappled with the serious nature of the situation. Legends of them had been passed down by the Elder generation, but any such things were simply fiction long lost to time.

For generations no one saw a Duskwraith.

The pupils of Kieran's eyes dulled, and a momentary flicker of grief returned.

"They're coming for you. "They have awakened from slumber and are after your powers."

Lyra panicked as she stuttered, "M-my powers. They don't exist."

"You do," Kieran stated, looking dead into her eyes.

"The Keeper's power. It's inside you, Lyra.

You were called long before you even knew it." His words weighed heavy on her chest.

"My heart was racing in my ears, but I tried to process his words. How could she be the Keeper? She was but a simple healer: nothing more.

Kieran sat up, wincing as the movement jolted his wounds.

"They'll come for you," he continued, his voice tempered with resolve. "We don't have much time."

"Who are they?" Is it Lyra? she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"They are the ancient enemy, the ones who used to own Eryndale," Kieran said. "And they are back with a vengeance.

They think you're the apex of the realm for them to get their hands back on."

Lyra looked at him, her mind racing.

This man, this stranger, had just claimed her with a destiny she had not asked for, a destiny that would upend everything she thought she knew about herself and her world.

Yet there was something else about his eyes.

Something that told her that he was not untruthful.

And beyond that, she could see the fear behind his words a fear not only for the realm but for her, too.

But as days passed by, Kieran was getting more powerful, while the shadows still surrounded him.

There was something insistent in his eyes that told her that he wasn't lying.

And deeper down, she could see the fear in his heart a fear for the realm and for her.

However, days were passing, and Kieran stood stronger, still being surrounded by the shadows.

But with every lesson, danger was coming closer.

They sensed some kind of stirring among Duskwraiths: a chill wind blowing from the horizon. One time, sitting by the fire, Kieran reached to her; touching his fingers by mistake, he touched hers. His touch was warm and grounding, and Lyra could feel her pulse racing at his touch.

For so long, she had allowed nothing in her mind but the ever-encroaching danger, but now. Now, for the first time, she felt the yearning between them, as if it had always been there, masked beneath layers of fear and uncertainty. Kieran," she breathed softly, her voice trembling.

"What if we're too late? What if we can't stop them?"

With every lesson, danger came closer.

They could feel the wind changing; it was bitter, bringing with it the rise of Darklight, casting its shadow upon the horizon. And when night fell, as they sat by the fire burning, Kieran reached for her, touching the sides of his fingers to hers.

His touch was warm and grounding, and Lyra felt her pulse quicken. She had always, during these moments, allowed the entering thought of incoming threat, but now she felt something quite unexpected, a yearning that seemed to exist always beneath the layers of fear and uncertainty. Kieran, she breathed softly, her voice trembling.

"As if that matters. Though, Mia will suffer," Kieran said, her voice trembling.

"What if we're too late? What if we cannot stop them?"