Ellerin Village woke like always — lazy sun, chirping birds, wood smoke curling from chimneys.
But something was off.
The silence wasn't sleepy.
It was watching.
Raen sat outside Garrick's home, whittling a branch into a makeshift dagger, pretending not to feel the pressure building in the air.
The sword — the one that returned to him on its own — was gone again.
Not lost.
Just… waiting.
It did that sometimes.
Then came the horse.
A deep rumble rolled through the village path. Hooves. Slow. Measured. The kind of rhythm soldiers used to scare rebels.
Raen looked up.
A rider approached. Alone.Black cloak, long gloves, no visible weapon. His face was clean, sharp, unreadable — eyes like dried blood and a pendant hanging from his neck: a glass shard filled with silver mist.
"That ain't local gear," Raen thought.
Garrick stepped out from the forge.
"Can I help you, stranger?"
The rider stopped.
"I'm looking into an incident." His voice was calm. Too calm. "A distortion was recorded three nights ago near this area. Divine measurement tools picked it up."
Raen's fingers froze on the knife he was carving.
The Ruinspawn.The sword.The edict of return.
They noticed.
"I'm just here to observe," the man continued. "I'd like to stay for a day. Maybe two."
Garrick hesitated. "We're a simple village. We don't—"
"This place is protected by royal decree."The man smiled, showing no warmth. "And I serve under the Crown's Arcane Division. I'm sure you understand."
Later that night, Raen sat in the orchard again.
Same spot. Same tree.
This time, he wasn't waiting for monsters.
He was waiting for him.
And the man came.
"You were the one," the rider said, appearing from the shadows without sound. "You triggered the pulse."
Raen didn't answer.
"You summoned something. Wielded an echo. Possibly bound to a Law."
Still silence.
The man stepped forward.
"I don't care who you are, boy. But if you're hiding divine-class gear, or worse—if you're a reawakened—then you're dangerous."
He reached into his cloak.
A knife.
Short. Silver. Inscribed with runes that flickered between truth and forgetting.
"You won't remember me cutting you," the man said softly. "You'll just sleep. Deeply. Forever."
Raen stood up slowly.
No sword.No armor.No magic.
Just a quiet breath.
And then—
"Return."
The sword came crashing down from the sky, landing in his hand like a lightning strike.
The air trembled.
Birds scattered.
And for the first time…the man looked afraid.
"You're not a child," he whispered.
Raen raised the blade.
"Neither is the past," he said.
"And I'm done running from mine."