By dawn, the village of Dernmere still lay in a hush—but in Thomelin's home, the quiet was heavy with meaning.
Thomelin knelt beside the old chest again, this time pulling out a bundle wrapped in thick gray cloth. He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a slender staff carved with swirling runes and crowned with a hollow crystal at its top. It shimmered faintly with colors that changed with the angle of light.
"This was given to me by your mother," Thomelin said, eyes fixed on the staff. "She called it Windshale. Said it would answer only to you—when you're ready."
Kael reached for it. The moment his fingers touched the wood, the runes along the shaft flared dimly, and the pendant at his chest glowed in unison.
Wind stirred inside the house, though all the windows were shut.
Elenor and Thomelin exchanged a glance.
"It's reacting," Elenor whispered.
But Kael could feel it more deeply than that. It wasn't reacting—it was recognizing him.
"I think it knows me," he said.
Thomelin nodded. "Then there's no doubt left. Your journey must begin."
He rolled out a second map, older than the last. Most of the names were faded, but one symbol still remained clear—a tree with its roots stretching underground, drawn in silver ink.
"The first place is called Hollowroot Vale," he said. "It lies deep beyond the Mistwood Forest. Few dare enter it anymore. Long ago, it was a sanctuary for those trained in ancient arts—those who could listen to the wind and command the storm."
Kael leaned over the map. "It's far?"
"Four days' walk if you take the lowland paths," Thomelin said. "Faster if you use the river, but more dangerous. You won't be alone on that water."
Kael glanced at Elenor.
"I want to come with you," she said quickly, before he could even ask.
Thomelin raised a hand. "You're strong, Elenor, but this path… it will test more than your strength. It will test your will, your belief, your very sense of truth."
"I've watched over him for six years," she replied. "I'm not letting him walk into danger alone."
Kael smiled faintly. "I'd feel better with you there."
Thomelin hesitated, then finally nodded.
"You leave at first light. I'll prepare supplies. Food, flint, herbs. Take only what you must. The more you carry, the louder your presence will be."
Kael looked toward the window. The sun was beginning to rise—a deep, strange hue painted the clouds with red.
Just as the creature had warned.
When the sun turns red…
The time had come.
Later That Day
The villagers noticed when Kael and Elenor left.
A few offered bread or warm cloaks. Others watched from behind shuttered windows, whispering about the strange boy who had always been a little too quiet, a little too fast, a little too strange.
The mark on Kael's hand was now visible, glowing softly as they passed the edge of the village.
They entered the Mistwood just as the wind began to pick up.
Trees loomed overhead like guardians of an ancient world. Moss hung from the branches, and distant sounds of birds and animals echoed through the dense forest.
Kael looked down at his palm.
"Do you think I was… meant to do this?" he asked quietly.
Elenor walked beside him, her short sword strapped to her back. "I don't know," she said. "But I know you're not alone. That counts for something."
They walked for hours until they reached a bend in the path where the trees thickened unnaturally. It was as if something had grown them into a barrier.
And at the center, embedded in a large rock, was a symbol—the same one on Kael's hand.
Without thinking, Kael touched it.
The ground beneath them shivered.
The vines drew back. The roots untangled themselves.
And the path to Hollowroot opened.
Behind them, far back in the woods, something stirred.
Not wind. Not rain.
Something darker.
Something watching.