The sun above Yarneth Village struggled to shine, its rays filtered through heavy grey clouds. A quiet, uneasy breeze passed through the fields as Reve walked alongside his younger siblings and Eiran, the old man who had raised them.
They were heading toward a small hill on the edge of the village — where warriors were buried, where memories refused to die. Their father rested there. Today wasn't an anniversary. Just a feeling. A call.
"We'll clean the weeds around the grave," his sister whispered.
"I brought the incense," his little brother added, holding it tight.
Eiran walked behind them, his sharp eyes scanning the trail. "No signs of beasts today... that's good," he muttered. Then, under his breath: "But the wind smells strange."
Once they reached the grave, Reve stood silent. The name carved into stone felt heavier than steel. He placed his hand gently on the tomb... and his sword began to hum faintly.
**[Present Time]**
It had started again.
The same hum from back in **Kareth Woods**, deep inside the **Forest of Gray Shader**. Not loud — almost respectful. But it wasn't just the sword. The entire atmosphere shifted.
A snap of a twig.
Then another.
Eiran turned sharply. "Stay behind me," he ordered.
But it was too late.
A thick black mist coiled in from nowhere. The siblings collapsed unconscious. Eiran summoned a glowing barrier, eyes wide with alarm.
And then — the mist surged around Reve, pulling him from reality.
In a flash, he vanished.
Only silence remained.
Then... a whisper echoed across the tombstones, not spoken, but *felt.*
> "You were chosen... by ....."Him* "