WHAT IS YOUR SECRET

The mountain air was crisp and still as two hooded figures stood watch near the village of Brindlemark. One of them, the elder brother, sat cross-legged on the rocky ground, his eyes closed in meditation. His sword lay across on the ground beside him, its blade gleaming softly in the fading light. His face was shrouded in shadows, making it impossible to discern any features.

The other hooded figure stood a short distance away, gazing out at the village below. His eyes narrowed as he watched the thatched roofs and the smoke drifting lazily into the air. He wondered what lay hidden beneath the village's tranquil surface.

~A.y.

Sorry cuz the picture doesn't really match the description... Bare with me please 🥺

~

"Enough, Arcturus," the other hooded figure said, his voice low and rough. "Hast thou not had sufficient of this vain meditation? Doth thou still pray to gods that are not?" His words hung in the air, challenging the stillness of the moment.

Arcturus's eyes remained closed, his breathing steady. "The absence of deities doth not negate the power of the celestial spheres, Zarek," he replied, his voice calm and measured. "Our communion with the universe is that which granteth us fortitude."

Zarek snorted, his gaze drifting back to the village. "Fortitude? Is that the name thou givest it? I call it desperation, a fleeting hope in a world devoid of divine providence."

Arcturus's eyes snapped open, his gaze piercing the fading light. He rose to his feet with a fluid motion, his sword glinting as he grasped the hilt. "Verily, Zarek, I shall not be swayed by thy doubts," he said, his voice firm. "For I have beheld the signs, and the omens foretell a great reckoning. There's a man in this village who is in possession of the Chronicle of the Ancients, a tome of forgotten lore and ancient wisdom."

"And what makes thee think this man will yield the Chronicle to us?" Zarek asked, his voice laced with skepticism. "Or that he even knows its true value?"

"The man is Thorne, a seer," Arcturus said, his voice firm. "He doth surely know the meaning and value of The Chronicle of the ancients, and if he doth not yield it unto us, we shall extract it from him by force."

Zarek's expression remained skeptical, but he nodded. "Very well, brother," he said. "Let us proceed, then."

With a swift gesture, Arcturus raised his hand, and the air around him began to ripple and distort. A shimmering portal materialized, its edges pulsating with an otherworldly energy. The portal's center swirled with a mesmerizing vortex of colors, like the depths of a mystical abyss.

"Let us proceed," Arcturus said, his voice echoing through the stillness.

Without hesitation, Zarek stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the portal. As he passed through its threshold, his form dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colors, reassembling on the other side with a faint shimmer.

Arcturus followed suit, his movements fluid and deliberate. As he stepped through the portal, his figure seemed to blur, merging with the swirling colors. The portal's energy surged, and then dissipated, leaving behind only the faintest whisper of its presence.

**********************************************

Thorne stirred the simmering stew in his cauldron, the aroma wafting through the cozy cottage kitchen. He checked the time, wondering when Eira would return from the market. She'd been gone longer than expected.

Just as he was starting to worry, the door to his cottage burst open, splintering wood and dust filling the air. Thorne's eyes widened as he rushed towards the entrance, but his vision was obscured by the swirling dust.

As he stumbled forward, a dark energy seemed to coalesce around him, and Thorne felt an unseen force grasp him, forcing him to his knees. He tried to resist, but an unseen hand seemed to press him down, holding him in place. The dust continued to swirl, and Thorne's vision blurred.

As the dust began to settle, two figures emerged from the haze. Arcturus stood tall, his piercing eyes fixed on Thorne, while Zarek's gaze gleamed with a calculating intensity. Zarek's hand was still outstretched, his fingers splayed as if he was still maintaining the magical grip on Thorne.

The air was heavy with tension as Arcturus took a step forward, his movements fluid and deliberate. "Thorne, thou seer," he said, his voice low and commanding. "We have come for the Chronicle of the Ancients, which thou dost possess. Yield it unto us, lest thou suffer the consequences."

Zarek's voice was laced with menace as he added, "Yea, verily, thou dost not wish to incur our wrath, Thorne. Hand over the Chronicle, and we shall spare thy life."

~A.y.

I don't know what to think of this chapter... I know the king James English is kinda unnecessary but I was thinking the new characters should be quite different and this was the only form of "different" I had in mind

______________________________________________

Off topic but I'm definitely simping over this man... Is it just me or I can't seem to choose a bias in SKZ

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***