Chapter 2: The Call of Destiny

The morning mist still clung to the thatched rooftops of Maren's Rest when a sharp knock rattled Kael's wooden door. He groggily pulled himself from his straw-filled cot, rubbing the remnants of restless dreams from his eyes. The strange visions of fire, shadows, and whispered prophecies had haunted him through the night, but in the fresh light of dawn, they seemed little more than fading specters of an overactive mind.

Another knock—louder this time.

Kael grabbed his tunic and stumbled to the door, expecting perhaps Elara, the village healer, or one of the farmers needing help. Instead, he found an old man—hunched, weary, and trembling with exhaustion—barely holding himself upright. The stranger's robes were travel-worn, their original deep blue now faded and caked with dust. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his eyes, though weary, held an intensity that cut through Kael's initial confusion.

"Help… me," the old man rasped before his legs buckled.

Kael barely caught him before he collapsed entirely. His skin felt clammy, yet his body burned as though fevered. Wasting no time, Kael dragged him inside and set him by the hearth, stoking the embers back to life. He grabbed a water skin and tipped it against the man's lips, letting the cool liquid trickle down his parched throat.

The man coughed, then exhaled deeply, relief evident on his face. After a moment, he opened his eyes once more and fixed Kael with a gaze that sent a shiver down his spine.

"You are Kael Stormbreaker, are you not?"

Kael blinked, unsettled. "Aye, that's me. And you are?"

The man attempted to sit upright, wincing slightly. "I am Edros, a Keeper of Lore… and I have come a great distance to find you."

Kael felt the weight of those words settle on his shoulders, though he did not understand why. "Me? What could a Keeper of Lore want with a simple farmhand?"

Edros gave a weary chuckle. "Simple farmhand? No, Kael. You are far more than that. Fate has chosen you, though whether you accept its call is another matter entirely."

Kael stiffened, feeling a strange déjà vu. His dreams, the glowing rune on the old oak, the whispers of something greater—it all coalesced into an uncomfortable realization. This was no ordinary visit.

Edros reached into his satchel, pulling forth a small scroll, its edges burned and its wax seal broken. He handed it to Kael with shaking fingers. "The darkness has begun to rise. Malgath's forces move unseen, but his reach is already felt. He seeks dominion over Eldoria… and worse."

Kael's brows furrowed. "Malgath?" The name was familiar, a whisper in old tales the elders shared around the fire. A warlock of unspeakable power, exiled centuries ago, his fate unknown.

"Yes," Edros confirmed gravely. "He has returned."

A silence hung in the air, thick as the mist outside. Kael stared at the scroll, fingers tracing the edges, then looked back at the old man.

"I still don't understand. What does this have to do with me?"

Edros exhaled slowly. "Because, Kael Stormbreaker, you are the one fated to wield Eternity."

Kael felt the air leave his lungs. "Eternity?"

"The Blade of Eternity," Edros clarified. "A weapon forged by the goddess of Fate herself. The only weapon that can defeat Malgath and his growing shadow."

Kael let out a nervous chuckle. "Surely, you have the wrong man. I am no warrior, no chosen hero. I till soil, not battlefields."

"And yet," Edros countered, "you have felt it, have you not? The dreams, the call? The rune upon the old oak? Do not think these are coincidences. Fate does not deal in such trivialities."

Kael hesitated. Every instinct screamed for him to deny it, to reject this impossible notion and return to his life of routine. But deep within him, in a place he rarely acknowledged, something stirred.

"What must I do?" he finally asked, the weight of his words pressing on his chest.

Edros smiled faintly, though his eyes remained solemn. "You must seek the ruins of Atherion. There, the Blade of Eternity rests, waiting for its true master."

Kael swallowed hard. The ruins of Atherion were spoken of in hushed tones—an ancient, crumbling city swallowed by the earth's hunger, filled with forgotten dangers and forsaken souls.

"You will not go alone," Edros continued. "Elara must accompany you. Her gift of healing will be invaluable. And…" he hesitated, "there are others who will join your path. Some you have yet to meet."

Kael's mind reeled. It was too much, too soon. But then he thought of Maren's Rest—the mists creeping in, the unease that had settled over the village. If Malgath's return was real, then nowhere was safe.

If this Blade of Eternity was the only thing that could stop him, then perhaps…

Perhaps he had no choice at all.

Kael took a deep breath and met Edros's gaze. "Then I will go."

The old sage exhaled in relief. "Then destiny has begun to turn."

With that, the journey began. One that would take Kael far from the quiet fields of his youth and into a world of peril, magic, and fate itself.

And somewhere in the darkness, Malgath watched… and smiled.