Chapter One: A Quiet Beginning

The village of Redbrook was a place untouched by destiny. Nestled between rolling hills and thick forests, it was a simple town where farmers tilled their fields, blacksmiths forged iron, and merchants peddled their wares without fear of war or prophecy.

Elara had been in Redbrook for nearly a month, and for the first time in countless lifetimes, she had begun to understand what it meant to simply exist.

She spent her mornings helping the baker, trading coin for warm loaves and fresh cream. Afternoons were spent by the river, where Kael had taken to repairing old fishing nets in exchange for a few silver pieces. The villagers had welcomed them without question, without knowing their names carried weight in lands far beyond these quiet roads.

And Elara found that she liked it. The quiet. The simplicity. The normalcy.

But the past never truly let go.

She felt it in the way the wind carried whispers that no one else seemed to hear. In the way the air crackled when she let her guard down, as if magic still clung to her no matter how much she tried to bury it.

And in the way strangers passed through Redbrook's gates with too many questions and not enough answers.

The latest visitor was a man wrapped in a heavy cloak, his face obscured by the shadow of his hood. He had arrived at dawn, speaking little, his gaze always searching.

Elara watched him from across the town square, an unease curling in her chest.

Kael noticed. "You sense it too," he murmured.

She nodded. "He's looking for something."

"Or someone."

Elara exhaled slowly, fingers brushing the worn wooden counter of the bakery stand. She had no proof the man was here for her, but after lifetimes of running, she had learned to trust her instincts.

The question was: Would she run again?

Or was it time to finally face whatever fate had planned next?

As the cloaked figure turned his head in her direction, Elara met his gaze without flinching.

Whatever was coming—she would be ready.