Eric_Rhodes

A forgotten device. A vanished father. A quiet boy thrust into a world of elemental power, ancient trials—and a darkness that remembers.

 

Mike Flowers never wanted to stand out. But when he discovers a strange artifact buried beneath the forest floor, everything changes. Pulled into a breathtaking world beyond his own, Mike finds himself marked by an ancient legacy: the last Speaker, chosen to awaken powers that once shaped the balance of realms.

 

With a bond to a silver-winged eagle and a bow that grows with his resolve, Mike must face elemental trials, corrupted warlords, and a crumbling magic gate that leads not home—but to something far older, and far more dangerous.

 

As secrets unravel and allies form, Mike begins to understand: he wasn’t just chosen by the device.

 

He was remembered by it.

 

For fans of Brandon Sanderson, Leigh Bardugo, and the adventurous spirit of Percy Jackson, this epic fantasy journey blends emotional depth with thrilling discovery.

Mike Flowers and the Whispering Device

Not from frost, but from something deeper—like the fire in the sky had begun to burn out. Even the stars seemed hesitant, flickering instead of shining. The wind carried no answers. Only questions.

Mike sat beside the fire, fingers curled around his father's journal. He had read it three times now. He knew the words by heart. But he kept reading anyway, as if a fourth time might give him what he still needed—why.

Across the fire, Ren slept restlessly. Aero perched nearby, eyes half-closed, feathers rising and falling with the rhythm of Mike's breath. She was nearly too large to sleep beside the fire anymore. She hadn't flown in two days.

Mike reached into his satchel and pulled out something he hadn't touched in a while: a carving knife, and a half-finished piece of ashwood.

He had started it weeks ago—back when he still believed the gate might take him home.

Now he wasn't sure what "home" meant anymore.

He carved in silence, letting the rhythm of the blade soothe him. As the flames flickered, the form began to take shape. Wings spread. Beak sharp. Head turned skyward.

Aero chirped once—soft, inquisitive.

Mike smiled and held up the figure. "You."

She blinked, then nudged it gently with her beak.

He set it aside and stared into the fire.

"I thought if I could open the gate, I could go home. Or find my dad. Or fix Jake. But every answer leads to another question. Every door opens a storm."

Aero said nothing—but her presence was enough.

"Maybe I'm not supposed to go home. Maybe I'm supposed to make a new one."

At sunrise, Ren awoke with a start and sat up quickly.

Mike was already standing, bow in hand, cloak fastened. The wind had shifted—coming now from the east. From the cliffs. From the place Tom's sketch had warned them against.

Mike smiled faintly. "Good. Then we're on the right path."

He turned and looked once more at the campfire.

Farewell to Firelight