Between Shadows and Serenity

2) The Call of the Eternal Ones

The stillness of the air enveloped Chay, Porsche, and Pun, a palpable tension hanging between them as they kept a careful distance of ten meters apart from each other, their collective gaze locked onto the majestic silhouette of a wild moose. Each exhale seemed to mingle in the cold air, matching the rhythm of their pounding hearts. Pun, ever the strategist, signaled subtly to Chay, urging him to focus his aim, while Porsche, muscles taut with anticipation, drew forth his gleaming dagger from its sheath, the blade whispering against the fabric of his gear.

Together, they lowered their frames, inching closer, acutely aware of the dry crunch of twigs and the rustle of leaves beneath their feet—both threats that could shatter the fragile peace of their hunt. Chay steadied himself, drawing back the bowstring, bringing it to his lips in a dance of precision and reverence for the moment. With a deep, measured breath, he prepared to unleash fate, his heart synchronized with the rhythm of the earth around him. As he lost the arrow, it soared through the air with deadly grace, a streak of promise aimed at the heart of the great beast. Yet as the arrow found its mark, a blinding pain shot through Chay, his vision spiraling into darkness, an abyss that swallowed the world whole.

"Why... My... my Chay... don't leave me behind!" A voice echoed through the void, fragile yet hauntingly insistent. An ethereal vision emerged, a child of perhaps ten years, his raven hair framing a face marked by innocence and sorrow. His eyes, a deep black encircled by glimmering silver of crystals, shimmered with tears that blurred the lines of reality. Blood smeared across the young boy's face as he desperately attempted to wipe away his grief, each motion a plea to the fading consciousness of Chay. The intensity of the moment wrapped around them like a shroud, binding their fates in a tumult of emotion and raw, unspoken connection.

"Porsche, finish our catch and honor its sacrifice! Don't let him suffer; I'll reach Chay," Pun implored, releasing a battle cry to summon more of their men to their side. His voice held a sense of urgency mixed with a deep vulnerability. As darkness began to envelop Chay, the boy's face burned into his memory, a haunting image that would not relent. He longed to extend his arms, to hold him close and murmur gentle comforts that would ease the boy's woe's.

Chay's eyelids fluttered open, the sensation of the cool wind brushing against his face abruptly bringing him back to consciousness if only for a brief moment. Beneath him, he sensed movement; ragged breaths filled the air. "Don't worry, my boy. I'll get you home," Pun's voice reassured him, blending with the hum of the hoverboard struggling under their shared weight. But once again, the encroaching darkness beckoned him back into its embrace.

When he finally emerged into the warmth, the crackle of a distant fire danced in his ears, mingling with the crisp scent of pine that filled the atmosphere. "This is a matter we cannot ignore," he heard Pun declare, his tone steady yet passionate. "We are here to protect and embrace all that comes our way; we have been chosen by the Eternal Ones. Once, this village thrived, and though we are bearing scars, we have endured. Now, it is the city that has wronged us, finds itself in peril. But believe me, we have the power to set things right." Pun's voice resonated through the gathering crowd, igniting a spark of hope in the hearts of their fellow villagers. "We must, bring everyone together once more. bring back our brothers and sisters that once shared our devotion to the Eternal One's."

As Chay awaked slowly, a palpable tension fills the air, thickening like a storm cloud about to burst. Pun, a man etched with wisdom but burdened by sorrow, stands resolutely among his people, his expression a mixture of defiance and conviction.

"I know they have inflicted wounds upon us," he declares, his voice a gravelly echo of past battles, "but the Eternal One would not have bestowed this vision upon one of our own unless they desired our guardianship. They wish for us to shield it from further harm. We still hold onto our merles—those sacred places—where a thousand hearts and more pulse with life if that city." His voice rang clear, a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty.