Mira tossed Karl a wooden practice sword.
He caught it — barely.
"You move like an old man,"
she said, swinging hers with theatrical flair.
"Maybe you should start training with the toddlers."
Karl twirled the sword lazily in one hand. "Only if you're their instructor. I'm sure you'd fit in."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Oh? Someone woke up snarky today."
"I had weird dreams,"
he muttered, stepping into his stance.
She raised an eyebrow. "Dreams about what?"
Ash. Ruins. A man with silver eyes.
"Nothing. Just… weird."
Their wooden blades clacked against each other as the warmup began. Mira fought like a storm — all motion and instinct, fast enough to keep him on edge. But Karl was steadier. Controlled.
Too controlled.
Because as they sparred, something deep inside his chest throbbed — a pulse that didn't match his heartbeat.
Across the square, Master Fen sat cross-legged with a steaming mug of rootleaf tea. His gaze tracked Karl with unusual focus, even as he pretended not to.
Beside him, two of the village scouts were whispering.
"Did you feel it last night?"
"That pressure? Yeah… like the sky was holding its breath."
"Something's shifting. Something old."
Karl tried to ignore them — but the words clung to the edge of his thoughts like cobwebs.
Suddenly, the ground beneath his feet trembled.
Only for a second — a faint vibration, more felt than heard.
Mira stumbled mid-swing. "Did you—?"
Karl dropped his sword and turned slowly toward the valley's ridge.
The mist had thinned.
And in the far distance, barely visible, a faint blue glow was pulsing from the forest's base — like the heartbeat of something buried.
Mira followed his gaze. "That's near the old shrine, right?"
He nodded, lips pressed in a line. "Yeah. The one they sealed years ago."
"Didn't someone say it housed a cursed relic?"
Pause.
"Or… a haunted squirrel?"
Karl turned to her, deadpan. "Yes, Mira. A squirrel cursed by the gods of time and space."
She nodded sagely. "I knew it."
The glow pulsed again — brighter this time.
Master Fen was already rising, abandoning his tea. "Karl," he called.
"With me. Now."
Mira blinked. "Oof. That's the 'I know you're involved' voice."
Karl sighed. "I didn't do anything."
"Yet."
They approached the edge of the training field, and Karl caught a clearer view of the glowing spot near the valley's base. Something was definitely wrong.
And then, he heard it.
A whisper. Faint. Cold.
Not spoken aloud — but inside him.
Remember.
His breath hitched.
Master Fen's voice cut through the air. "That place was sealed for a reason. But if it's stirring again… then the relic inside is waking."
Karl clenched his fists. "Why now?"
Fen studied him with narrowed eyes.
"The world remembers what it tried to forget. And it always begins with the ones marked by the Thread."
Karl froze.
That word.
Thread.
He'd only heard it once before.
In a dream.