《Vulcan: Forged Fate》


 Summoned in Shadows

    A single seed, suspended in darkness, burst open. Points of light streaked outward, navigating an invisible maze before converging into a dazzling flash that consumed everything. The brightness seared itself into your senses, and when you opened your eyes, you were... here.


    You blink, disoriented, sprawled on the rough stone floor of what looks like a medieval kitchen. Wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, and the faint scent of herbs lingers in the air. Pressing your palms into the cold floor, you push yourself upright, glancing around. Had you fallen? Did the chair slip out from under you?


    No. Something feels wrong. You don¡¯t remember anything about this place¡ªor much of anything, for that matter. Everything feels new.


    Despite the strangeness of it all, you find yourself strangely receptive. A spark of curiosity flares within you. Whatever this is, it feels like an adventure waiting to happen.


    The kitchen is primitive but functional, cluttered with well-worn utensils and neatly arranged jars of dried plants. Beyond it, a cozy sitting room comes into view. A mismatched armchair sits by the fireplace, next to a bookshelf crammed full of books.


    Drawn to the shelf, you wander into the room, moving cautiously, as though trespassing in someone else¡¯s home. The books are an eclectic mix¡ªcrafting guides, histories, fantasy novels. ¡°A touch of the nerd,¡± you mutter with a wry smile. The sound surprises you; it¡¯s deeper, warmer, and unfamiliar. Clearing your throat, you try again.


    ¡°Hello?¡± The voice resonates, rich and unfamiliar. It isn¡¯t yours.


    A sharp knock at the door jolts you. Before you can react, a melodic voice calls out, ¡°Kevin?¡±


    Kevin?


    Hesitantly, you open the door. A woman greets you with a bright smile, her arms full of groceries.


    ¡°Could you grab this? I know, I know, you only sent me for the dailies, but the market had these wonderful herbs, and the traveling salesman brought books so I might have¡ª¡± Her words trail off as her eyes meet yours.


    ¡°You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost,¡± she says, shuffling the bag to her other arm. She steps past you before you can respond. ¡°You¡¯re looking more spry than this morning! Feeling better since the festival? I even picked up that Potion of Sobering you asked for.¡±


    You blink at her, trying to piece together a response, but your mind feels like a foggy blank.


    She pauses, scrutinizing you more closely. ¡°Oh, come on,¡± she says with a nervous laugh. ¡°Stop messing around, Kevin!¡± But her laughter fades, and she drops the bag at her feet.


    ¡°Wait¡­ Kevin?¡± she murmurs, her eyes narrowing. ¡°Those pesky¡ª¡±


    You hesitate, your voice uncertain. ¡°No. I¡¯m¡­ not. Who are you?¡±


    Her gaze sharpens, and the weight of it presses down on you, unsettling and unrelenting.


    She doesn¡¯t answer right away. Instead, she grabs your hand without warning, her grip firm and urgent. ¡°Hold on,¡± she says, dragging you into the living room. ¡°I have one of their pseudoscience scripts here.¡±


    Her focus shifts entirely to the bookshelf, scanning its contents with manic intensity. Her fingers dance over the spines until she finds what she¡¯s looking for¡ªa leather-bound book. She yanks it free, flips it open with practiced familiarity, and shoves it into your hands.


    The book is heavy, the cover embossed with swirling, intricate patterns that seem to shimmer faintly in the firelight. The first page is covered in an ornate, almost indecipherable script. It reminds you of something ancient¡ªor maybe just some overly ambitious limited edition print.


    ¡°What am I supposed to do with this?¡± you ask, your bewilderment growing.


    ¡°Can you read it?¡± she demands, her excitement crackling in the air between you.


    You glance down at the page, the strange letters shifting and rearranging themselves before your eyes. Words emerge where moments ago there was only chaos. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ something about dimensionalism? Mana planes?¡± You flip to another page. ¡°Shaping gestures?¡±Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Her face lights up, a spark of exhilaration lighting her features. ¡°So they are scripts!¡± she exclaims. But the joy is fleeting. As her eyes meet yours again, her expression shifts, her excitement dissolving into something much heavier¡ªsadness, tinged with disbelief.


    Her eyes drop to the floor as her voice drops to a whisper. ¡°Kevin¡­¡±


    The name grates against your growing frustration. ¡°Who is Kevin?¡± you snap, the sharpness in your tone surprising even you.


    Before she can respond, her knees buckle, and she collapses to the floor.


    You freeze, stunned, the book slipping slightly in your grip. The room falls silent save for the faint crackle of the fireplace.


    ¡°What the hell just happened?¡± you mutter to yourself.


    With little choice, you move quickly to prop her up in the armchair, her body limp but still breathing. You glance at the groceries scattered near the doorway and carry them to the kitchen, placing them on the table. ¡°there¡±


    Returning to the living room, you sit and examine the book she thrust into your hands. The pages seem to hum faintly under your fingertips. The text describes a world where reality can be bent and shaped, the very fabric of existence twisted and molded with focus and practice. It reads like a strange blend of fantasy and philosophy, something you might have dismissed outright under different circumstances.


    But now? Now it feels¡­ plausible.


    When the woman stirs, you set the book aside and fix her with a pointed look. ¡°Alright. Time for answers. Who are you, where am I, and what¡¯s going on?¡±


    She rubs her temples, muttering, ¡°I need a drink first.¡± Rising shakily, she retrieves a bottle of wine from a cabinet and pours herself a glass. ¡°Right,¡± she begins, her voice steadier now. ¡°I¡¯m Renee. I live here¡ªwith my husband, Kevin. Or¡­ I did.¡± She downs the glass in one gulp and immediately pours another.


    ¡°And you know I¡¯m not Kevin,¡± you say. Scanning the palms of your hands.


    ¡°Of course.¡± She studies you, her gaze heavy with something between grief and disbelief. ¡°Kevin¡­ he¡¯s gone, isn¡¯t he?¡± She looks you up and down, her expression darkening, but she presses on. ¡°You¡¯re an elf. Or something close enough. Last week, during the Summoning Festival, the ceremony called for a champion. We thought it failed, but¡­¡± She gestures vaguely at you with her glass.


    You lean back, trying to process her words. ¡°So let me get this straight: I¡¯ve been summoned. Into someone else¡¯s body. Your husband¡¯s body?¡±


    She winces, swirling the wine in her glass. ¡°Yes. That part¡¯s¡­ less ideal.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem particularly alarmed.¡±


    She shrugs, pouring yet another drink. ¡°Shock, probably. Or denial. Besides, the Head Summoner will explain everything better than I can.¡± Her proclamation ends with an exaggerated eye roll.


    You nod slowly, the weight of her words settling over you. This wasn¡¯t just a case of amnesia or mistaken identity. Something far stranger was at play. Your gaze drifts back to the book on the table, its strange text glowing faintly in the firelight.


    Whatever was happening, you were determined to get to the bottom of it. And maybe, just maybe, find your way back to whoever¡ªor wherever¡ªyou were before.


    Your mind begins to wander, the edges of reality fraying ever so slightly. That¡¯s when you see it¡ªa blue orb, faint and swirling at the edge of your vision. You blink hard, rub your eyes, but it¡¯s still there, hovering like a persistent fly.


    ¡°Do you see this?¡± you ask, pointing at the strange, gaseous orb.


    Renee pauses mid-sip, squinting at you through her third glass of wine. ¡°See what?¡±


    You frown, shifting your gaze to her. The orb flickers, then vanishes, leaving behind only Renee¡¯s bewildered expression. She follows your pointing finger, turning toward the window as though expecting something outside.


    ¡°What¡¯s out there?¡± she asks, spinning awkwardly on her heel.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± you mutter, lowering your hand. She doesn¡¯t see it.


    Renee exhales loudly and drains the rest of her wine, setting the glass down with a faint clink. Her cheerful voice rises, a brittle edge betraying the hollowness behind it. ¡°Well, no time like the present!¡± she declares, her tone an odd mix of forced enthusiasm and teacher-like authority.


    She rolls her eyes at herself but forces the smile to remain. ¡°Come on. The Head Summoner¡¯s probably still at the inn. He spent half the festival day there yesterday, so gods know he¡¯s still nursing a hangover.¡±


    You hesitate, glancing back toward where the orb had hovered. It felt like more than a trick of the light. But Renee is already moving, grabbing a coat and swinging the door open, a gust of cold air pulling at her hair.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she calls over her shoulder. ¡°If anyone can make sense of this, it¡¯s him.¡±


    You follow her out, your mind buzzing with questions and the faint image of that blue, shifting light.


    A strange sensation lingers, sharp and electric, as if the faint hum had followed you outside and settled deep in your chest. You stop, blinking, the air around you vibrating ever so slightly. It feels¡­ familiar, though you can¡¯t quite place why.


    Before you can linger, Renee rushes past you, muttering under her breath. She slips back through the doorway, disappearing inside for a moment, then reemerges with flushed cheeks and a coat bundled in her arms.


    ¡°Here,¡± she says, thrusting it at you. Her tone is brisk, but a flicker of embarrassment softens her expression. ¡°At least wear his coat. You could catch a cold. Can you? I¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± She winces at her own rambling, shoving the coat into your hands. ¡°Just¡ªplease wear it.¡±

 Elmwyre’s Heart

    Turning onto the road, you¡¯re greeted by a weaving cobblestone path flanked by modest rolling hills, their crests crowned with dense woods. The clouds scatter across a vivid blue sky like strokes from a painter¡¯s brush. You pause, taking it all in. The scene looks like something plucked straight from a storybook. A few cozy farmhouses dot the landscape, light trails of smoke curling lazily upward, carried away by the breeze.


    ¡°Wow, this looks so cool,¡± you exclaim, unable to keep the awe from your voice.


    Renee glances at you, her expression softening as she tilts her head slightly. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s quite breezy today. But this? This is about as harsh as our winters get around here.¡± She smirks. ¡°Wait until you see the town. You can spot it from over the next hill.¡±


    She strides ahead confidently, her pace brisk, while you follow, your curiosity growing with each step. As you crest the hill, her words ring true. The town below is a picture of charm and bustling life. A dense cluster of homes and shops, all crafted with such care they could rival modern building standards. The streets are clean, the rooftops sturdy, and the layout suggests a town built to endure.


    ¡°Wow,¡± you murmur again, a smile tugging at your lips.


    You follow Renee into town, the narrow cobblestone streets lined with thatch-roofed homes. As the central plaza comes into view, the town¡¯s heartbeat reveals itself. Children dart through the crowd, their laughter mingling with the hum of merchants tending their wares. The market brims with energy¡ªpermanent wooden stalls neatly arranged, the air filled with the chatter of bartering voices.


    Two armored guards patrol at the edges of the square, though their leisurely pace and animated conversation suggest they¡¯re more invested in gossip than vigilant watchkeeping.


    Renee halts at the edge of the square, spreading her arms wide in a playful, presenting pose. ¡°Welcome to Elmwyre, our humble home!¡± she declares with mocking grandeur. ¡°The market¡¯s here, the inn¡¯s over there¡ª¡± she nods toward a sturdy two-story building with a weathered sign that reads The Copper Keg Inn¡ª¡°and next to it, the Elmwyre Library, where we hold classes for everything you can imagine.¡±


    She points further down the row of buildings. ¡°And that¡¯s the crafts guild beside the library. Kevin works there. Carpentry, blacksmithing, even bookbinding¡ªhe dabbles in it all.¡± Her voice falters just slightly at Kevin¡¯s name, but she shakes it off with a quick smile and a squint at you, as if daring you to comment.


    Before you can, a low murmur catches your ear¡ªa conversation drifting over from one of the guards speaking to a shopper beside a produce stall. You linger just outside their view, catching fragments of the exchange.


    ¡°...Kaylee ran off again,¡± the guard grumbles, arms crossed over his chest. ¡°Straight into the woods this time. They sent a search party, but she could be anywhere.¡±


    The shopper clicks their tongue, tossing carrots into a basket. ¡°And her kids?¡±


    The guard jerks a thumb toward the far end of the plaza. ¡°Over there. We¡¯re stuck babysitting.¡±


    Across the square, his partner is visibly struggling to corral two energetic children, one of whom is attempting to scale a vendor¡¯s cart like it¡¯s a fortress wall. ¡°This is why I hate festival season.¡± The guard continues to explain to the vendor his reasoning for never having kids of his own.


    You glance at Renee, who has been eavesdropping too. She shoots you a wide-eyed look, mimes locking her lips with an invisible key, and flings it theatrically over her shoulder. You track the imaginary key as it arcs into an empty walkway.


    ¡°Looking wonderful as ever, Renee!¡± The second guard calls out from across the square, clearly distracted as one of Kaylee¡¯s kids tugs on his sword belt.


    Renee stiffens but waves back with forced cheer, muttering through gritted teeth. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving before they rope us into the search party.¡±


    She tugs your sleeve and pulls you toward the inn. ¡°Come on. The head summoner¡¯s probably half-sober by now.¡±


    As you pass the library¡¯s broad stone doorway, Renee gestures casually at it. ¡°We¡¯ll stop by later, I suppose. It¡¯s my second home, after all. If you need answers¡ªmainly history or crafts¡ªthat¡¯s where you¡¯ll find them. Or me.¡±


    You follow her up the inn¡¯s steps, taking in the plaza one last time. It¡¯s ornate and lively, with an unexpected charm, it''s awe inducing and cannot keep you from smiling.


    The moment you step inside, you¡¯re greeted by the sight of a massive copper keg towering behind the counter¡ªeasily two floors tall. You stare at it, impressed despite yourself. ¡°How creative,¡± you mutter dryly to the room.


    An elbow finds its way into your side¡ªRenee¡¯s, sharp and direct. ¡°Ow,¡± you mumble, shooting her a look.


    She smirks. ¡°Try not to embarrass me while we¡¯re here.¡±


    A warm voice called out as you entered the inn. ¡°Kev! What can I get you this fine afternoon? You¡¯re early¡ªI usually don¡¯t see your face ¡®til sundown.¡± The bartender leaned over the counter, grinning, his hands busy wiping down anything in arms reach.


    Before you could answer, Renee cut in dramatically. ¡°We are on a mission¡ªnay, a quest!¡± She hopped onto a wooden stool, one foot perched precariously on the backrest as though it were the railing of a ship. With one hand pointed forward like a cutlass and the other shielding her squinting eye, she declared, ¡°We seek the Head Summoner!¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    The bartender¡ªjudging by Renee¡¯s easy familiarity with him¡ªbarely blinked. His long-suffering sigh spoke volumes. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, toward a shadowy corner of the room. ¡°Mister ¡®Wondrous¡¯ is licking his wounds back there, so to speak.¡± Without waiting for acknowledgment, he turned back to the taps, filling glasses with a practiced indifference. ¡°I¡¯ll bring your drinks.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Peter! I¡¯ll take the mead. No apple juice for me today,¡± Renee chirped as she hopped off the stool and shrugged out of her coat. She flung it forward with a careless flourish, and you barely managed to snatch it from the air in time.


    You gave Peter a questioning look as you hung up both coats on the nearby rack, eyeing the drink he was pouring.


    Peter smirked knowingly, muttering under his breath, ¡°Right. I¡¯ll find you.¡±


    In the far corner of the inn, three half-empty glasses stood in chaotic disarray before a skinny, robed figure slouched over the table. His head lifted slightly as you approached, revealing tired eyes and lips damp from his latest sip of room-temperature beer.


    With a sluggish motion, he raised a bony finger into the air, his voice a lazy drawl. ¡°One more, please.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t work here, sir,¡± Renee said politely, though the amusement in her eyes betrayed her barely-contained laughter.


    The man blinked, squinting at his glass as though surprised it wasn¡¯t empty. He muttered something under his breath¡ªsomething that sounded suspiciously like ¡°hospitality standards these days¡±¡ªbefore taking another lazy sip.


    You slide into the seat across from him as Renee plops onto the couch next to the head summoner, her movements fluid and casual. She leans in close, whispering something into his ear.


    At first, the summoner seems indifferent, his tired figure slumped like a forgotten marionette. But something shifts. Slowly, he straightens, his slouch disappearing as his presence swells. It¡¯s subtle¡ªno literal change in size¡ªbut suddenly he feels larger, more present, his tired eyes sharpening as they lock onto Renee.


    ¡°Are you certain?¡± he asks quietly, the drawl replaced by a measured weight.


    Renee nods, though her expression falters. For the first time since you¡¯ve met her, she looks fragile, smaller somehow.


    The summoner lets out a long, deliberate sigh, then reaches under the table and retrieves a murky vial, pulling the cork free with his teeth. ¡°This changes everything,¡± he mutters before tossing back the contents of the bottle.


    You and Renee watch him cautiously as he swallows. A moment passes, and then his eyes widen. His entire body jolts as if struck by lightning.


    ¡°What¡­ what was that?¡± you ask, alarmed.


    He coughs violently, then grins through watery eyes. ¡°Potion of Sobering,¡± he wheezes, his voice suddenly far more coherent. ¡°Exactly what you¡¯d expect. Brings you back to life for a moment¡ªsharp as a blade, energetic as a hare¡ª¡±


    He doesn¡¯t finish the sentence. Instead, his eyes widen further, and he bolts upright, clutching his stomach.


    ¡°Oh my¡ª¡± he chokes out, sweat already forming on his brow. ¡°Back in a moment.¡±


    The summoner launches himself from the table, weaving through the tavern¡¯s patrons with unnatural speed. A door at the far end of the room slams open, leading toward what you can only assume is the restroom.


    Renee gives you a sidelong glance, one brow raised. ¡°Potion of Sobering, huh? It¡¯s mostly a ¡®get to the bathroom as fast as possible¡¯ potion.¡±


    You stare after the summoner, baffled. ¡°I guess it works.¡±


    Peter arrives with your drinks, balancing the tray like a seasoned pro. You glance at the summoner¡¯s three lukewarm beers still crowding the table and slide them toward him.


    ¡°I think these were optimistic,¡± you say dryly. ¡°And could we get a pitcher of water for the table?¡±


    Peter raises an eyebrow but doesn¡¯t argue. ¡°One pitcher of water. Coming right up.¡± He strides away, leaving you with a faint smirk.


    Moments later, the summoner returns¡ªhis face pale but his demeanor noticeably sharper. He collapses back into the seat with a theatrical sigh of relief, hands clasped over his belly like a man who¡¯s narrowly survived battle.


    ¡°Necessary evil,¡± he mutters, waving off the ordeal as though sprinting for the bathroom were a completely reasonable ritual. ¡°Now, back to the matter at hand.¡±


    He fixes Renee with a more serious gaze, the humor quickly leaving his face. ¡°Tell me everything again.¡±


    Renee freezes, the energy she¡¯d been holding back crumbling away. No jokes, Her hands press into the edge of the table, her knuckles white. ¡°He¡¯s not Kevin,¡± she says, voice trembling. ¡°I don¡¯t know who or what this is, but he¡¯s not my husband. Kevin¡­ Kevin¡¯s not gone. He can¡¯t be gone.¡±


    The summoner regards her carefully, any trace of levity gone. You sit quietly as Renee¡¯s voice begins to break.


    ¡°He¡¯s not Kevin,¡± she says, trembling. ¡°He looks like him, moves like him. But Kevin wouldn¡¯t just leave me. He wouldn¡¯t¡­¡±


    Her breath hitches. ¡°And yet he forgot me like that.¡± She snaps her fingers for emphasis, the sound sharp in the stillness. ¡°He can read the stupid script!. And with the failed summoning of the champion¡­¡± She falters, wiping hastily at her face as her voice drops to a whisper. ¡°I Thought the summoning was just a flashy show of military succession?¡±


    Her words hang in the air like a weight. She presses a shaking hand to her chest, struggling to hold herself together. ¡°Please. You have to help me. Tell me he¡¯s not gone. Tell me there¡¯s a way to bring him back.¡±


    The tavern feels still, the clatter of mugs and distant chatter fading into an eerie quiet. The summoner doesn¡¯t say anything at first¡ªhe just looks at you. His eyes lock onto yours, unblinking and intense, as if searching for something hidden beneath your skin.


    The moment stretches, heavy and uncomfortable. You shift in your seat, but his gaze doesn¡¯t waver.


    Peter approaches quietly, setting down a pitcher of water and three glasses with a soft clink. He doesn¡¯t say a word, but his expression screams ¡°rough conversation¡± as he slips away.


    Without a word, the summoner reaches into his robe and retrieves something¡ªa necklace. The movement is deliberate, almost reverent, as he sets it down on the table with a thump.


    The sound is heavier than you¡¯d expect. You glance at it, startled. The necklace looks ancient¡ªits chain thick and tarnished, the pendant an odd, rune-carved disc that seems twice as heavy as it should be. The wood grain creaks slightly as the summoner pushes it across the table toward you.


    Finally, he speaks, his voice low and deliberate, almost a whisper.


    ¡°Focus on it,¡± he says. ¡°Tell me¡ªwhat do you see?¡±

 The Necklace’s Secrets

    You look down at the necklace, then back up at the summoner. Slowly, you reach out and pick it up, rolling the weighty object in your palm. The backside of the pendant is smooth, unmarked, though the surface glows faintly as you turn it.


    Glancing at Renee and the summoner, you see they¡¯re both watching you intently, their eyes fixed and unblinking. You shift uncomfortably under their gaze but say nothing.


    Focusing on the necklace, you feel its warmth, a faint pulsing heat that seems to resonate in your hand. The weight of it presses into your palm, heavier than it looks. The surface appears like intertwined steel and wood, the grain-like texture glowing softly as you hold it.


    Then, a strange sensation blooms in your chest. It¡¯s familiar¡ªan almost instinctual recognition. You know this object.


    It¡¯s a soul eater.


    This particular one is crafted for devil souls, you realize, though it doesn¡¯t seem to affect you in the slightest. The realization steadies you, but when you look back at Renee and the summoner, you freeze. They haven¡¯t moved. Both are locked in the same pose, utterly still.


    You scan the room around you. Everything is frozen. No sounds, no movement¡ªjust the faint rustle of your own clothes and the creak of the chair beneath you.


    The necklace seems to hum in your hand, drawing your attention back to it. A sharp, fresh smell fills the air¡ªcut grass¡ªand a pale green gas begins to seep from the pendant. It spills out like smoke, cooling the necklace as it grows colder and colder, until frost creeps across its surface.


    You drop it onto the table, startled, but instead of hitting the wood, it floats in the air. It hovers perfectly in front of your chest, moving as you shift from side to side, mirroring your every motion.


    The green gas expands rapidly, filling the room. It climbs the walls, crawls across the ceiling, and soon everything around you is hidden in a dense, emerald haze.


    Encompassed in this green void, you look at your hands. They seem¡­ altered. Faint outlines of glowing green trace your fingers, brightest at the tips and fading as they approach your wrists. By the time the glow reaches your arms, it¡¯s almost invisible.


    In front of you, a familiar orb materializes, a swirling permanence of vaporized green light. It hovers, locked in your vision, following your every movement. You reach for it instinctively, but it glides to the side, dodging your hand.


    You try again, lunging slightly, but the orb dances away, leaving behind a sudden explosion of tiny fireflies. The lights scatter, fluttering like sparks in the air, before they fade and reform into the orb¡¯s original position.


    You reach again, determined. This time, you anticipate its motion, moving with it. When it tries to escape, your hand follows perfectly, catching the orb mid-flight. The moment your fingers close around it, the orb explodes again¡ªbut this time, the fireflies linger and drift away.


    A green line glows faintly in the air, marking the path the orb took. It reforms at the start of the line, and for a third time, you reach for it. This time, you know its game. Your movements align with the orb¡¯s perfectly, guiding it to the end of the line. As your hand closes around it, the smokescreen drops, and the fireflies scatter into the distance.


    You glance down at your hands, the glowing green outlines now faintly shimmering. You realize you¡¯re still holding the necklace with your physical hands, but it¡¯s these green hands you¡¯ve been controlling.


    You try to stand, but your body feels rooted in place, tethered to your seat. Moving the green hands, you position them to match the pose of your real hands. As they align, sound rushes back into the room¡ªthe hum of the tavern, distant chatter, and the familiar clink of mugs.


    The necklace drops to the table with a soft thud, and you exhale deeply, reaching for your beer. You take a long sip, the warmth grounding you as the world seems to settle once more.


    You meet the wide eyes of the summoner and Renee as you set your glass down. The summoner is fidgeting with another Potion of Sobering in his hands, his finger drumming nervously against the glass. Renee, meanwhile, looks visibly furious¡ªher face a shade of red so intense it could rival a ripe tomato.


    Both of them start speaking at the same time.


    ¡°What is that necklace? Did you know that would happen?¡± Renee demands, her voice rising in pitch as she gestures wildly between you and the summoner.


    The summoner¡¯s voice is quieter, but no less intense as he interrupts, raising a hand with theatrical flair. ¡°Welcome to our humble home, oh champion. We seek your help.¡±


    Renee whirls on him, eyes blazing. ¡°Champion? He¡¯s in Kevin¡¯s body! Don¡¯t just start recruiting him for quests or whatever it is you think champions do!¡±


    The summoner shifts his attention to Renee, holding up the necklace with a measured calm. ¡°Did you see what he just did? That isn¡¯t something Kevin¡ªor any ordinary mortal¡ªcould manage. The signs are clear, Renee. They¡¯ve chosen him.¡±


    Renee scoffs, crossing her arms as her hands fly to her hips. Her eyes narrow, and her voice trembles with frustration. ¡°And you said Kevin wasn¡¯t one of our most ¡®able-bodied¡¯ people.¡± She jabs a finger toward you, her hand trembling. ¡°You¡¯ve got my husband¡¯s face, and yet you¡¯re telling me he¡¯s been turned into some kind of champion? My Kevin? The pacifist who wouldn¡¯t hurt a fly? The man whose biggest battle was convincing the guild to take his experimental tools seriously?¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Her voice cracks, and she looks away, her fury barely masking her grief. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t even know what to do with violence.¡±


    The summoner sighs, lowering the necklace back to the table and muttering under his breath, ¡°Perhaps another sobering potion is in order.¡± eyeing her with the bottle.


    ¡°I will never, in a million harvests, take one of those,¡± Renee snaps, her glare sharp enough to cut. She jabs an accusatory finger in his direction. ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m so fine.¡±


    To emphasize her point, she takes an exaggerated sip of her drink¡ªonly to pause mid-swallow. Her eyes widen as if she¡¯s just discovered the secrets of the universe.


    ¡°Oh my gosh. The apple juice here is amazing¡­¡± She freezes, her gaze darting suspiciously toward you. ¡°Wait¡­ Did you swap my drink?¡±


    The summoner¡¯s brow furrows, his confusion evident as he leans forward, steepling his fingers under his chin. ¡°You are unaware,¡± he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. ¡°As one of the able chosen, you are here to serve the people. We select only the finest, strongest bodies to offer to the elves of the distant past.¡±


    His voice takes on a rhythmic, almost recitative quality, as if quoting something from memory¡ªa sacred teaching he had internalized long ago.


    You blink, staring at him like he¡¯d just started speaking in tongues. ¡°Elves of the¡­ what?¡±


    Renee looks equally baffled, the glass of apple juice hovering halfway to her lips. ¡°Hold up. Did you just say ¡®elves of the distant past?¡¯¡± She sets her drink down with a thud, staring at the summoner as if he¡¯s grown a second head. ¡°That¡¯s not in any of the history books I¡¯ve ever read.¡±


    The summoner waves a dismissive hand. ¡°Of course it¡¯s not. Some truths are¡­ inconvenient to record.¡±


    Renee and the summoner spiral into an increasingly heated debate, their voices rising with each exchange.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been working for the library since¡ªoh, I don¡¯t know¡ªforever,¡± Renee snaps, talking with her hands. ¡°Every book, every legible script, I¡¯ve read them all. There¡¯s nothing in there about this nonsense. No chosen ones, no elves from the distant past. Just myths and old wives¡¯ tales.¡±


    The summoner scoffs, leaning back in his chair with a dismissive wave. ¡°And that¡¯s precisely why you don¡¯t know. Public libraries hold public knowledge, Renee. Some truths are buried deeper¡ªrestricted to those who need to know. Like me.¡±


    Renee glares at him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Oh, of course. You would know. Because clearly, you¡¯re the authority on everything hidden and important.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what I know,¡± the summoner retorts, his tone sharp.


    Their argument blurs in your mind, the words fading into background noise as your focus begins to drift. Reality feels... odd. Frayed, as though the edges of the room are unraveling.


    Your eyes wander, first to the table, then down to your hands. They rest on your lap, still as ever, but something isn¡¯t right. Slowly, you lift them, palms up.


    Outlines¡ªthin and white¡ªtrace the shape of your hands, glowing faintly. The light is brightest at your fingertips, fading to translucence by the wrists. It¡¯s similar to the green glow from earlier, but subtler this time.


    You glance up instinctively, searching for the green line you¡¯d seen before. Nothing. Still, you repeat the gesture anyway, your fingers moving as they had during the orb¡¯s dance.


    A faint hum fills the air, cutting through Renee and the summoner¡¯s bickering. They stop mid-sentence, their eyes snapping to you with a mix of anticipation and wariness.


    The light drains from your hands, converging at your fingertips. A faint glow lingers as a soft, gaseous shape materializes above the table¡ªa hexagonal pane, shimmering faintly like it¡¯s struggling to hold itself together.


    The summoner leans forward, his voice low and sharp. ¡°Focus, Hold it steady.¡±


    Renee stares, her earlier frustration replaced with something else entirely¡ªhope, fear, or maybe both. ¡°What¡­ is that?¡±


    You feel the pane¡¯s pull, a delicate tension like holding a fragile thread. ¡°It feels¡­ restrained,¡± you murmur, unsure if you¡¯re speaking to them or yourself.


    The words slur as a wave of dizziness washes over you. Your vision begins to ripple, dark shadows crawling into the edges of your sight. The pane tugs harder, pulling at something deep within you. Your arms feel leaden, and you slump forward, leaning against the table for support, but your focus stays locked on the glowing shape.


    ¡°Take this!¡±


    The summoner¡¯s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and commanding. He¡¯s suddenly at your side, the necklace clenched tightly in his fist. Without waiting for a response, he presses the object into your limp hand, resting on the table.


    The moment the necklace touches your skin, it erupts in a brilliant green glow. Energy surges through your palm, spreading to your fingertips and coursing through your veins like sunlight piercing a dense fog. Your vision sharpens, the dark ripples retreating into nothingness. The smell of fresh-cut grass floods your senses again, grounding you in an overwhelming clarity.


    ¡°Your eyes¡ª¡± Renee¡¯s voice rises in a startled squeal. She pushes back from the table, her hands pressed to her chest. ¡°They¡¯re green!¡±


    You glance upward. The pane above the table has changed. No longer restless, its chaotic energy has been replaced by a steady pale green glow, calm and deliberate, as though it has come under your control.


    A strange sense of clarity lingers in your palms, sharp and tactile. You can see everything with striking precision, especially the pane. You focus on it, your hands glowing faintly again as the pane begins to expand.


    It grows larger and larger, until it collides with the pitcher on the table. It topples, spilling across the wood and rushing straight into your lap.


    The icy shock snaps your focus. You jolt upright as the pane shatters, exploding into a swarm of luminous green fireflies that scatter in all directions, their light fading as they vanish into the air.


    Blinking, slightly annoyed, you glance down at your soaked lap before turning a questioning gaze toward the summoner. He stands nearby, his shoulders tense, his breathing uneven. His wide eyes meet yours, and for a moment, he looks like he¡¯s seen a ghost.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing, do you?¡± His voice is sharp, tinged with disbelief and exasperation. ¡°You¡¯re far too powerful for your own good, young man!¡±


    Before you can answer, he turns abruptly, muttering something under his breath. His face flushes a deep red, and you see him visibly swallow back whatever unprofessional remark was perched on his tongue.


    After a deep breath, he straightens his posture, forcing calm into his tone. ¡°I have seen elves perish for far less. Please¡­ be careful. I do not know much about these rituals, nor can I guide you in honing this craft.¡± He hesitates, his gaze steady and firm.


    Renee cut in, her voice sharp. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. If you seem to know so much about these rituals, shouldn¡¯t you be the perfect guide? How did you even know this necklace was special to begin with?¡±

 The Summoners

    The summoner¡¯s eyes flicked to the necklace resting on the table, its faint green glow pulsing softly with each returning firefly. For a moment, his expression was unreadable¡ªa mix of caution and something that almost resembled guilt.


    ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ seen it before,¡± he finally admitted, his voice quiet. ¡°Or something like it. Long ago.¡±


    Renee¡¯s brow furrowed, her frustration turning into suspicion. ¡°Long ago? You mean it¡¯s not even yours? You just happened to know it could help?¡±


    The summoner sighed deeply, his earlier composure giving way to a weary calm. He straightened slightly, his eyes distant, as though looking back through the years.


    ¡°When I joined the summoners¡¯ guild, I was young. Too young to fully understand the dangers of what we do,¡± he began, his voice steady and deliberate, each word chosen carefully. ¡°Knowledge is power, but it is also peril. I learned that the hard way on my first collection crusade. We were sent to retrieve grimwares from a tomb that had only recently been unearthed.¡±


    He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. ¡°The builders of that place were wise. Wise enough to lay protections that still functioned centuries later. I walked into one of them¡ªa snare, designed to cripple and destroy those who didn¡¯t belong. In my inexperience, I underestimated the craft of those who came before me.¡±


    His gaze shifted to the necklace on the table, its faint glow reflected in his eyes. ¡°I should have died that day, but I didn¡¯t. An elf¡ªa protector of knowledge, not unlike myself¡ªfound me. They disarmed the trap, saved my life, and escorted me to safety.¡±


    Renee¡¯s brows furrowed, suspicion evident on her face, but she didn¡¯t interrupt.


    ¡°Before we parted ways, they gave me this necklace,¡± the summoner continued, his tone soft but firm. ¡°They told me it would protect me when I next found myself unprepared. I did not fully understand their words at the time. But over the years, I¡¯ve come to know that certain artifacts¡ªthis necklace among them¡ªare not given lightly. They are meant to find their true wielder.¡±


    He turned his gaze back to you, his eyes sharp. ¡°Today, that wielder is you.¡±


    Renee¡¯s lips curled into a snarl as she stepped forward. ¡°You¡¯re saying this necklace found its way to you because of destiny?¡± Her voice was biting, her arms crossed tightly. ¡°So what, you¡¯re a grave robber now? Stealing from the dead and justifying it as fate?¡±


    The summoner didn¡¯t flinch, meeting her glare with a calm, unshakable certainty. ¡°I am no grave robber,¡± he said evenly, hand waving the accusation, his voice carrying the weight of a teacher addressing an unruly student. ¡°I am a preserver of knowledge. That tomb held secrets that could have been lost to time, buried forever beneath the sands. I went not to plunder, but to ensure that the wisdom of the past could guide the present¡ªand the future.¡±


    Renee scoffed, her arms still crossed. ¡°That¡¯s a convenient excuse. Where exactly is this knowledge held, and who gets to access it?¡±


    The summoner¡¯s expression hardened, but his voice remained steady. ¡°Convenience has nothing to do with it. What we learn from the past shapes what we become. To turn away from such wisdom would be the greater crime.¡±


    ¡°And for where this knowledge is kept, the academy of the summoners guild and its many libraries of course¡±


    For a moment, Renee seemed ready to argue further, but her words faltered. She glanced at you, her frustration mingling with uncertainty.


    The summoner turned back to you, his voice softening. ¡°The necklace responds to you. It has chosen you. Not by chance, but by purpose. It is not something I can teach you to wield. That, you must learn for yourself.¡±


    ¡°And if I may,¡± Renee interjected sharply, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. ¡°When will I get my husband back? That is why we came to you in the first place.¡±


    The summoner turned to her, his expression careful, measured. ¡°Of course. Though I must warn you, the answer may not be what you hope to hear.¡±


    Renee¡¯s jaw tightened, her eyebrows furrowing as she focused intently on the story. Her lips pressed into a small pout, her frustration evident but restrained.


    ¡°There are stories¡ªlegends, really¡ªof champions coming and going,¡± the summoner began, his tone shifting to something almost reverent, as though reciting sacred memories. ¡°In one of the oracle¡¯s oldest tales, a champion was chosen for only two hours. They fled the ceremony, still wearing their ceremonial robes, armed with nothing but a thief¡¯s dagger¡ªstolen from the sleeping rogue during the night.¡±


    He paused, letting the imagery take hold before continuing. ¡°Yet, in that fleeting time, they defeated a dragon. And when the woodcutter awoke, they found themselves atop a pile of gold, returned to their original self as if nothing had ever happened.¡±


    He allowed the room to fall into silence, his words settling like a heavy mist. ¡°The point is, the time a champion remains is often tied to their purpose. When their task is fulfilled, they return¡ªback to where, or who, they once were.¡±


    Renee trying to hold herself together. Her voice trembled, though she fought to keep it steady. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is¡­ my husband could be gone until he¡¯s done? And we have no idea what that task even is?¡±


    The summoner nodded, slow and deliberate, his gaze shifting back to you. ¡°I believe that even you do not yet know why you are here. The reason will reveal itself in time, as will your path.¡±


    Renee rolled her eyes so theatrically it seemed she might have to reach out and catch them before they fell from her face.


    The summoner straightened, his tone growing more formal. ¡°Which is why I now invite you to join me on my return to the Summoners¡¯ Academy. There, you may explore our collected wisdom, uncover truths that may guide you, and perhaps discover your purpose.¡±


    His gaze flicked briefly to Renee before settling back on you. ¡°And by that, I mean both of you. If we are to understand this, we could certainly use brains like yours.¡±Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    You suspected the summoner¡¯s invitation to Renee had to do with her intellect but more with the undeniable fact that there wasn¡¯t a universe where she¡¯d let you walk off into the sunset without her.


    The summoner leaned back, his expression thoughtful as the conversation lulled. After a moment, he looked up, rubbing his stomach with a faint grimace.


    ¡°I¡¯m set to leave town when the winds turn and the next boat makes it into the harbor, heading downriver. Word is, that won¡¯t be until the day after tomorrow.¡± He exhaled sharply, then added with a wry smile, ¡°But in the meantime, I¡¯m going to need something to eat. Feels like I¡¯ve been sitting on an empty stomach all day. Anywhere you recommend around here, Renee?¡±


    Renee snapped out of her haze, the weight of the conversation settling in as the silence gave her thoughts room to land. Her serious expression softened, switching to a sweet smile¡ªmore out of habit than anything else¡ªas she looked at the summoner.


    ¡°Uh, yes. Food. Right.¡± She hesitated, glancing toward the bar. ¡°I mean, Peter makes the best hangover cures in town.¡±


    Without waiting for a response, she raised an arm and waved at Peter, her movements casual but precise.


    The summoner leaned back in his seat, a resigned sigh escaping him. Any dream of leaving this inn quickly seemed to fade further into the distance.


    Peter approached, towel slung over his shoulder. ¡°Hai, Peter,¡± Renee chirped, her grin bright and mischievous. ¡°One heart attack, please, for Sir Empty Stomach over here.¡±


    Peter quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting to the summoner with mock severity. ¡°If you can promise me you didn¡¯t ruin my restroom,¡± he said, his long face betraying a faint smirk.


    The summoner¡¯s head snapped up, his expression a mix of shock and indignation. ¡°I¡ªwhat?!¡±


    Renee¡¯s grin widened, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. The summoner glared at her, muttering something under his breath as he excused himself, clearly flustered, to ¡°double-check¡± the facilities.


    Peter and Renee exchanged a glance, and as soon as the bathroom door clicked shut behind the summoner, they both broke into laughter.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about him,¡± Peter grinned, wiping his hands on his towel. ¡°I just cleaned it. He¡¯ll be back in no time.¡± He tilted his head toward Renee. ¡°I¡¯ll go make his food. Did you want anything?¡±


    ¡°We have plenty of food at home, thank you,¡± Renee replied automatically, then froze as her own words caught up to her. Her eyes widened, and she turned to you, her expression questioning, almost uncertain.


    Peter simply nodded, muttering to himself as he disappeared into the kitchen. ¡°Always the same.¡±


    Renee shifted in her seat, then announced with a hint of nervousness, ¡°We should stop by the library after this. I have¡­ some business to attend to.¡±


    You nodded at her, sensing her unease but deciding not to press the matter.


    Moments later, the summoner returned, slipping back into his seat without a word. Renee and the summoner exchanged a brief, unreadable look before she broke the silence, smirking. ¡°See? And you said our hospitality standards were low.¡±


    The summoner exhaled in mock defeat, bowing his head slightly. ¡°It¡¯s on me for even doubting it.¡±


    Right on cue, Peter reappeared, a plate balanced expertly in his hands. The aroma hit you first¡ªrich, savory roasted boar, with the faint scent of fresh bread.


    The plate slid onto the table, and your eyes widened. Thick, glistening slices of boar fat lay atop crunchy bread, its top golden and crisp while the bottom was soaked with juices. The boar skin looked impossibly crunchy, shimmering with a sheen of perfectly rendered fat.


    ¡°One Heart Attack,¡± Peter announced, setting down as knife and fork jump off the plate as the summon readies himself to attack the plate.


    The summoner hesitated just long enough to show restraint before giving in to the inevitable. He looked up, fork in hand, and spoke through his hunger.


    ¡°As neither of you have ordered food, did you wish to share, or may I request the courtesy of eating in peace?¡±


    There was kindness in his tone, but it was clear he was hoping for the latter. His grip on his utensils tightened ever so slightly, his focus already locked onto his meal as he prepared for the first bite.


    Renee jolted back to the moment, snapping out of her thoughts. ¡°Oh! Right¡ªlet¡¯s head out.¡± As if on cue, she shot up from her seat, marching off without a second thought.


    You stood as well, eyeing the summoner for a beat before giving him a polite wave. He acknowledged it with a barely perceptible nod, already lost to his plate.


    Turning a shoulder, you followed Renee, catching up just as she pressed Kevin¡¯s coat back into your hands.


    From her pocket, she pulled out a handful of metal coins, letting them jingle softly as she sorted through them. Her fingers tapped against a few, counting absently. Finally, she singled out one¡ªa brass-colored coin with a hole in the center and an ornate hexagonal texture.


    She held it out to you. ¡°Can you snap off two sixths, please?¡±


    You turned the coin over in your palm, feeling the distinct ridges beneath your thumb¡ªsix evenly spaced deep grooves leading to the hole in the center, with periodic high spots and low spots. almost like a heatsink.


    You blink fishy at the coin and Renee.


    She blinked back, fishier. ¡°Right,¡± she exhaled, yanking the coin from your grasp.


    ¡°These coins¡ªlike most others¡ªare designed to¡­¡± She crouched slightly, bracing her knee as she gritted her teeth and grunted, straining against the coin. A hint of red crept into her face as she shot you a hopeful glance, one eye peeking up through her failed attempt.


    You squint at her. Palm raised.


    She sighed dramatically and dropped the slightly bent coin into your palm, flashing a sheepish, toothy grin.


    You took it between your hands and, with barely any effort, snapped it in half. Holding the two halves up, you inspected the break¡ªit was surprisingly smooth, almost seamless, save for the slight bend from Renee¡¯s earlier attempt.


    Taking one half, you pressed your thumb against the grooves, snapping off exactly one-sixth as easily as breaking a piece of chocolate. The fractures were unnervingly clean.


    Renee plucked the second smallest fragment from your palm with a triumphant hum, turning to the bar. With a wave toward Peter, she deposited the two sixths of the coin onto the counter.


    ¡°Thank you! We¡¯ll be on our way!¡± she called, already making for the exit.


    You followed after her, stepping out into the cool evening air. She paused just outside, inhaling deeply, her eyes half-lidded as she took in the scent of wood smoke curling through the streets.


    The square was bathed in the flickering glow of braziers, their flames casting long, wavering shadows as dusk settled in. Your gaze drifted to the center of the plaza, where a group of hunters had gathered around a spit. Suspended over a slow-burning fire, a massive boar¡ªeasily the size of a small horse¡ªturned slowly on a thick iron skewer.


    Children lined up eagerly, though their wide eyes failed to grasp the reality that their prize wouldn¡¯t be ready for at least another three hours.


    You took in the scene, the hum of conversation, the gentle crackle of fire, and asked, ¡°Does that happen often?¡±


    Renee followed your gaze, crossing her arms as she chuckled. ¡°Most days. Big game, big boasting¡ªit¡¯s practically a town-wide arm-wrestling match over who can bring back the largest kill.¡± She gestured loosely toward the firepit. ¡°One of the elders still swears they once hauled in a giant lizard. Says it was so massive it could¡¯ve fed the town for weeks. No one else has ever backed up that story, but that¡¯s never stopped them from telling it.¡±


    Her amused expression lingered for a moment before she straightened, her demeanor shifting slightly. She turned toward the library, nodding at the large wooden building. ¡°Come with me. There¡¯s something I need to show you. I wasn¡¯t entirely honest with the summoner.¡±