Morning sunlight crept through the wooden shutters, casting golden lines across Eliakim's face. He stirred from his slumber, blinking against the warmth, his body still aching slightly from the night before. As he sat up, he glanced at his wrist—but the bracelet was gone.
No, not gone. Invisible.
He could still feel it—the slight weight around his arm, the delicate tension of chains threading to each finger—but to the naked eye, nothing remained. Only when the light caught just right did a faint shimmer flicker, hinting at its hidden presence. The soft chime of the hanging symbols still echoed in the quiet room, even if unseen. Skyling, in her evolved form, stretched her wings beside him, a gentle rustle of feathers following the motion, her eyes briefly glancing at the spot where the bracelet once gleamed, as if she too sensed the transformation.
Today felt different.
After dressing in clothes that now strained slightly against his newly formed physique, Eliakim stepped outside. The air was fresh, tinged with the scent of pine and soil, but there was an uneasy hush over Yldrahollow. No children's laughter echoed through the streets. No familiar voices called out from the gardens. Frowning, he made his way to the village square.
Empty.
Confused, he visited the houses of his friends one by one. Each door he knocked on went unanswered. Windows remained closed. Curtains were drawn. The silence was deafening.
Just as unease began to creep down his spine, a sharp commotion from the village gates caught his attention. Eliakim hurried toward it, weaving through alleys until he reached the crowd.
The traveling merchant had returned—his opulent robes now dusty, his face twisted in rage. Before him stood the village head, Elder Marell, whose wrinkled brow furrowed with concern. Behind the merchant, a group of hired adventurers loomed—grizzled warriors and mages, their weapons at the ready.
"This is an outrage!" the merchant bellowed. "I paid one purple gold for that map! One! Do you know what that's worth in the capital? And now, the cave—gone?! Rubble?!"
Marell tried to reason. "No one here knew the cave would collapse. We've never seen anything like it. There was a tremor last night—"
"A tremor?! That was no mere tremor. That was sabotage! That cave was unique! That ghoststone—priceless!"
Eliakim's blood ran cold. Ghoststone? That must've been the name of the treasure he retrieved. He instinctively touched his bracelet.
The merchant thrust a finger at Marell. "You owe me compensation. If you can't give me back the cave, then I'll take something else instead. I want the children. And the young women. They'll work off the debt."
A collective gasp surged from the gathered villagers.
"You can't be serious!" someone shouted. "They're just children!"
"You said you cared about our herbs and potions!" cried another. "You brought sweets for the kids! You shared stories!"
The merchant sneered. "Of course I did. That's how you earn trust in these backwater places. Now pay what you owe!"
He snapped his fingers.
Immediately, the adventurers surged forward. Two of them grabbed the nearest children, hoisting them up by the arms. Cries of panic broke out. Mothers screamed. Fathers tried to intervene, only to be shoved back by armored brutes with cold glares and sharper blades. Children clung to each other in tears, frightened and confused.
The villagers suddenly understood why the merchant had brought so many adventurers. This was not an accident—it was a premeditated act. They had welcomed a monster into their midst, and now he revealed his fangs.
Some villagers dropped to their knees, begging for forgiveness, pleading to be spared. The merchant only laughed—a mad, cold, hollow sound.
"You're all fools," he hissed. "Kindness is just another mask. Now you'll see the price of ignorance."
Eliakim's fists clenched. Rage bubbled in his chest.
Marell shouted, "Stop this madness! These are innocents—"
"Then give me what you owe," the merchant interrupted coldly. "Or they'll be payment in flesh."
The villagers had always seen the merchant as a charming, eccentric outsider. Now, they saw the predator beneath the silk.
The adventurers herded the children toward the center of the square. Several girls and boys were already bound together in rope. Eliakim's breath caught when he saw three familiar faces—his closest friends—among the hostages. Their eyes widened when they saw him, but they dared not speak.
Eliakim stepped forward instinctively, but Marell raised a hand to hold him back.
"This is a misunderstanding," Marell said, trying to placate the furious man. "Let's find a way to resolve this peacefully. Give us time."
"No more time!" the merchant barked. "You have until sundown. If you haven't delivered what I've asked, these hired swords will take it by force."
With that, he stormed back toward his caravan, his guards flanking him like wolves scenting blood. The villagers dispersed slowly, despair hanging over them like a stormcloud. The children who had been seized were dragged to the center of the square, now hostages beneath the sneering watch of the adventurers.
Eliakim's jaw clenched. He glanced at Skyling, whose feathers had puffed in agitation.
"They think they can take what they want," he muttered. "But they're wrong."
The boy who had entered that cave was no more.
And the warrior who emerged would not allow his home to be broken.
As the fury within him surged, the bracelet on his arm pulsed faintly—and the chain connected to his pinky finger, the one representing the Book of Infinite Pages, began to hum.
It vibrated with energy, as if responding to his need. Not with power. With clarity. A nudge. A plan.
Eliakim narrowed his eyes, the fire in his heart stoked anew.