In the serene village of Brindlemark, a curious and adventurous Damian feels trapped in a life of comfort and predictability. Despite his father's warnings and concerns based on his own experience, Damian desire to explore the world beyond their vil...
The silence in Brindlemark was deafening, a stark contrast to the noisy, bustling village it once was. The trauma of the event still lingered, and the villagers were trying to move on, but it was clear that things would never be the same.
Weeks had passed since Old Thom's treacherous departure with the Darkwraths, leaving Brindlemark to face the devastating aftermath. The village, still shrouded in grief, had begun the painful process of healing. Debris-filled streets were gradually cleared, and the dead were buried. The weight of loss was palpable, as nearly a third of the population – 37 lives – had been tragically cut short. Survivors struggled to find solace, grappling with the enormity of their loss. Amidst the sorrow, the village slowly started to rebuild, a testament to the resilience of its people.
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Meanwhile, Damian had succumbed to his injuries, collapsing unconscious. His father, Fela, had rushed him to Athlaea, who managed to save his life using the last of the precious Lumnibloom flower.
"You're path will take you far from here, beyond the forest's reach." The voice had said, but this time, it was different. It was blurred, indistinct, unlike the first time he had heard it. The memory of the voice lingered, but its clarity had faded like a ghostly whisper.
Now, as Damian woke up on a mattress in a room empty apart from a few medical supplies, he was bare-chested, wearing only his pants. His stomach was covered with bandages, and he touched it gingerly, feeling a slight sting, but it was healed. He stood up from the mattress, and the floor creaked beneath his feet; he nearly stumbled but regained his composure.
Damian walked to a mirror, looking at his reflection, and saw a few scars and bruises on his face, some covered by his hair. "How long was I asleep?" he thought, wondering about the passage of time. His gaze fell upon Resolve, his trusty sword, lying on a table next to him. He grasped it, feeling a sense of comfort, and unsheathed it with a quiet whoosh. "I hope Father is alright," he added, concern etched on his face.
Just then, the door creaked open, and a young, blonde woman in medical attire entered, carrying a tray of supplies.
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Her eyes met Damian's, and she quickly ran back out the door, calling out from the corridor, "He's awake!" Before Damian could react, the room filled with warm, smiling faces – Fela, Thorne, and Athlaea all eager to welcome him back. They enveloped him in a collective embrace, their joy and relief palpable.
