Chapter 14: Lantern's Rest

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Raen and Kieran's group crested a low hill.

Below them, nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, was a small village. Its stone-paved roads glimmered faintly in the fading light, and the warm glow of lanterns flickered in the windows of its modest houses.

The village, Velorn, was a quiet, unassuming place. Its buildings were sturdy and well-kept, their wooden beams and thatched roofs showing signs of careful maintenance.

A small trade post stood at the center of the village, its doors closed for the night, and a few villagers moved about, their silhouettes illuminated by the soft light of the lanterns they carried.

Kieran raised a hand, signaling the group to stop. His sharp eyes scanned the village, searching for any signs of danger.

"Stay alert," he said, his voice low. "We don't know who's watching."

Raen nodded, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as adrenaline coursed through him.

The journey had been long and grueling, and the promise of shelter—even for a single night—was too tempting to ignore.

As they approached the village, the villagers eyed them warily. Their gazes lingered on Kieran's group, their expressions a mix of curiosity and caution. But no one moved to stop them, and no weapons were drawn.

An elderly man stepped forward, his weathered face framed by a thick, gray beard.

He carried a wooden staff, its surface worn smooth from years of use, and his eyes were sharp despite his age.

"Travelers," he said, his voice steady but not unkind. "You've come a long way."

Kieran nodded, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his weapon. "We're passing through. We mean no harm."

The old man studied them for a moment, his gaze lingering on the insignia Kieran wore—a faint, crown-like symbol etched into the fabric of his cloak. Recognition flickered in his eyes, but he said nothing about it.

"I am Marlen," he said finally. "Elder of Velorn. These are dangerous times to be on the road. Sol storms have made the land unpredictable."

Raen glanced at Kieran, his brow furrowing. Sol storms? He had heard the term before, but he had never seen one.

The thought of such a phenomenon sent a shiver down his spine.

Marlen gestured toward the village. "You may stay the night. We have a barn loft where you can rest. It's not much, but it's safe."

Kieran inclined his head slightly. "We appreciate your hospitality."

Marlen's expression softened, though his eyes remained guarded. "Be mindful, travelers. Velorn is a peaceful place, but the world beyond our borders is not."

With that, he turned and led them toward the edge of the village, where a large barn stood.

Its doors creaked open, revealing a spacious interior filled with hay and the faint scent of animals.

A ladder led up to a loft, where a few blankets and cushions had been laid out.

"Rest well," Marlen said before leaving them to settle in.

Raen climbed up to the loft, his body aching with every step. He sank onto one of the cushions, the softness a welcome relief after days of hard travel.

As he lay there, staring up at the wooden beams above, he couldn't shake the feeling that something about this village was… off.

The way the villagers had looked at them, the way Marlen had spoken—it all felt too deliberate, too calculated.

But exhaustion soon overtook him, and his thoughts drifted into darkness.

---

Raen woke to the sound of distant chatter and the faint clinking of tools. The barn loft was bathed in the soft, golden light of dawn, and the air smelled of fresh hay and dew.

He sat up slowly, his body still heavy with exhaustion, and glanced around.

Kieran and the others were already awake, their movements quiet and deliberate.

Roth, the giant warrior, was checking his gear, while Veyne, the wiry scout, peered out through a crack in the barn door.

Saela, the sharp-eyed woman, sat cross-legged on the floor, her gaze fixed on the village outside.

Raen climbed down the ladder, his boots crunching against the straw-covered floor. "What's the plan?" he asked, his voice still rough with sleep.

Kieran glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "We gather information. Stay close, but don't draw attention."

The group split up, each member moving with purpose.

Roth headed toward the village smithy, his massive frame drawing curious glances from the villagers.

Veyne slipped into the trade post, his sharp eyes scanning for anything useful.

Saela lingered near the well in the center of the village, her gaze sweeping over the people as they went about their daily tasks.

Raen followed Kieran, his curiosity outweighing his unease. As they walked through the village, he couldn't help but notice how… different Velorn was.

The village was small, but it was meticulously maintained. The stone-paved roads were clean, the houses sturdy and well-built.

Yet, there were no temples, no shrines, and no Sol conduits—nothing to suggest that the villagers worshipped the gods or relied on Sol for their daily lives.

Instead, Raen noticed small details that hinted at something deeper. Faded glyphs were etched into the stones of the well and the walls of the trade post, their designs intricate and ancient.

The villagers wore woven charms around their necks, the silver threads glinting in the sunlight.

"What are those?" Raen asked, nodding toward one of the charms.

Kieran's gaze followed his. "Protection charms. They're old—older than the gods, some say."

Raen frowned. "But why? What are they protecting against?"

Kieran didn't answer, his attention shifting to a group of children playing near the well. One of them, a little girl with messy braids and a bright smile, caught Raen's eye.

She was holding a lantern, its glass panes glowing faintly with a soft, golden light.

As Raen watched, the girl turned and ran toward him, her bare feet slapping against the stone pavement.

She stopped a few feet away, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Here," she said, thrusting the lantern into his hands. "You'll need this."

Raen blinked, caught off guard. "What? Why?"

But the girl didn't answer. She grinned, her smile reminding him of someone—someone he hadn't thought about in a long time.

Elia.

The memory hit him like a punch to the gut. Elia had smiled like that too, her eyes bright with mischief and warmth.

She had always been the one to look out for him, to scold him for running off into the amberwood groves alone.

"You never think, Raen. You just move."

The girl turned and ran off, disappearing into the crowd before Raen could say anything. He stared after her, the lantern heavy in his hands.

Kieran's voice broke through his thoughts. "Don't let your guard down. This place isn't what it seems."

Raen nodded, though his mind was still reeling. He glanced down at the lantern, its faint glow casting shadows on the ground.

Why did she give this to me?

---

Raen sat by the well in the center of the village, the lantern the little girl had given him resting at his feet.

Its soft, golden glow cast flickering shadows on the ground, but it did little to ease the unease settling in his chest.

The girl's face lingered in his mind—her bright smile, her messy braids, the way she had looked at him with such trust.

It reminded him so much of Elia, his sister. The resemblance was uncanny, and it stirred memories he had tried to bury.

Raen closed his eyes, letting the images wash over him.

He saw Elia standing by their home in Veywick, her hands clutching a small woven bracelet she had made for him.

She had always been the crafty one, her fingers nimble and quick as she worked with thread and beads. At just eleven years old, she was three years younger than Raen, but she had always seemed wiser, more thoughtful.

"You never think, Raen. You just move."

Her voice echoed in his mind, gentle but firm. She had always been the one to scold him for running off into the amberwood groves alone, for charging into danger without a second thought.

"What if something happens to you? What if you don't come back?"

Raen's chest tightened as the memories came flooding back. He had been so focused on survival, on escaping the horrors of the past, that he hadn't allowed himself to think about Elia.

Where is she now? Did she escape too? Or was she taken?

The thought made him feel sick. She had only been a child—eleven years old—when their world fell apart. Had she been strong enough to survive on her own? Had she even had a chance?

Raen clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He had failed her, just as he had failed everyone else.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village in shadows, a loud knock echoed through the barn. Raen and the others turned to see Marlen, the village elder, standing in the doorway.

His expression was grave, his eyes dark with concern. "You must not leave until sunrise," he said, his voice low and urgent. "The Lantern's Rest is safe, but the land is not."

Kieran nodded, his expression unreadable. "We understand."

Marlen studied them for a moment, his gaze lingering on the lantern at Raen's feet. "Keep that close," he said, nodding toward the lantern. "It will guide you when the darkness comes."

Before Raen could ask what he meant, Marlen turned and disappeared into the night.

---

That night, Raen lay in the barn loft, the lantern glowing faintly beside him. Sleep came slowly, his mind still racing with thoughts of Elia and the strange village.

When he finally drifted off, his dreams were filled with unsettling images.

He stood by the well in the center of the village, its stone rim cold beneath his hands.

The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, and the lantern's glow seemed to dim as he peered into the darkness below.

Faces stared up at him from the depths—pale, ghostly faces with hollow eyes and gaping mouths.

They whispered to him, their voices faint but insistent, their words sharp and cutting.

"You're a failure, Raen."

"You couldn't save her. You couldn't save anyone."

"Weak. Pathetic. Worthless."

Raen tried to pull away, but the faces reached for him, their hands clawing at the air.

"You left her to die."

"You ran away like a coward."

"You don't deserve to live."

The voices grew louder, their words like daggers piercing his heart. Raen stumbled back, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

"You're nothing without her."

"You'll never be enough."

He woke with a start, his body drenched in sweat. The barn loft was silent, the others still asleep. The lantern beside him glowed faintly, its light steady and reassuring.

Raen sat up, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. The voices still echoed in his mind, their cruel words lingering like a poison.

Was that real? Or just my own thoughts?

He glanced out the window, where the first light of dawn was beginning to creep over the horizon. The village was still and quiet, its lanterns extinguished for the night.

But Raen couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him, waiting for him to let his guard down.