Page 26 of Starlit Bargains

“My gran said the temple ruins used to glow like that, when she was a girl,” the woman replied. “Said it meant the guardian was stirring.”

“Old wives' tales,” scoffed another man, though his voice lacked conviction. “Those ruins have been dead for centuries.”

“Then how do you explain the dreams?” the first man challenged. “Half the village had the same one last night—stars falling, shadows moving. My little one woke up screaming about 'the dark between.'”

Eliar felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. The Void Feeder's presence had touched the village's collective unconscious, seeping into their dreams. Such creatures left psychic traces that sensitive minds—especially children's—could detect.

“Madam Wisteria says it's the outsider,” the third man said. “The one from Thornhaven. Says he's stirring up old powers that should be left alone.”

“Madam Wisteria sees outsiders under her bed,” the woman retorted. “Always has.”

“She's right about this one, though,” the second man insisted. “I saw him myself, in the marketplace. There's something not right about him. And now he's gone missing—nobody's seen him since this afternoon.”

Eliar moved on, slipping deeper into the village. He found similar conversations occurring throughout Mistwood—fearful whispers, old stories being dusted off and reexamined, suspicions growing in the fertile soil of uncertainty.

Near the village square, he paused again, this time at the sound of a familiar voice. Elder Greta, one of the three Keepers who had confronted Kai at the well, was speaking to a younger woman whose attentive posture marked her as a disciple of sorts.

“...must prepare the offerings,” Greta was saying, her thin face grave in the lantern light. “If what we fear is true, we'll need every protection the old ways can provide.”

“But Elder,” the younger woman protested, “those rituals haven't been performed in living memory. Are we certain they're necessary?”

Greta's eyes narrowed. “The signs are clear. The lost guardian stirs from his watchful slumber. And if he fully wakes, the balance will break.”

Eliar stiffened at her words. Lost guardian. It was how the village's oldest stories referred to him, though the meaning had been distorted over generations until few remembered the original tale.

“What balance?” the younger woman asked, echoing Eliar's own question.

“Between what was and what is,” Greta replied cryptically. “Between vengeance and mercy. Between chaos and order.” She gripped the woman's arm. “The Keepers have maintained this village for centuries, protecting it from forces beyond mortal understanding. We cannot falter now, when the danger is greatest.”

“And the outsider? The one from Thornhaven?”

Greta's expression hardened. “A catalyst, nothing more. Perhaps sent deliberately, perhaps merely a pawn of fate. Either way, he must be dealt with before he can do more damage.”

The cold certainty in her voice sent a ripple of alarm through Eliar. Dealt with. The Keepers rarely acted directly, preferring subtle manipulations and social pressure to maintain their influence. But if they truly believed Kai represented an existential threat to the village, to the careful balance they had maintained for generations...

He moved away from the square, processing what he had heard. The village was awakening to possibilities long dormant,remembering stories that had faded to legends and then to half-forgotten whispers. And in their remembering, they were dividing—those who feared the change and those who welcomed it, those who saw danger and those who saw possibility.

Eliar made his way to the northern edge of the village, to a small, ancient cemetery where generations of Mistwood residents had been laid to rest. At its center stood a stone structure that most villagers assumed was a mausoleum for some forgotten founder. In reality, it was much older—a small temple that predated the village itself, built by the first humans to settle in this area after witnessing his fall.

He approached it cautiously. Unlike the ruins in the forest, this structure had been maintained, its stones replaced as needed, its purpose preserved even as its true meaning was forgotten. Only the Keepers and a few others knew what it truly was—a focus point, a place where the barrier between realms had been carefully reinforced over centuries.

As he drew closer, Eliar saw that the door to the small temple stood ajar. Light flickered within—not the warm glow of lanterns or candles, but a colder, bluer illumination that he recognized with growing concern.

Stepping silently into the doorway, he found what he had feared: the altar stone in the center of the small chamber was glowing with the same ethereal blue-white light that had emanated from his eyes when his magic had connected with Kai's. Ancient symbols carved into its surface—similar to those at the forest temple but more refined, more deliberate—pulsed with each surge of light.

The barrier was thinning.

For centuries, this altar had helped contain what remained of his celestial energy, channeling it into harmless patterns that reinforced rather than weakened the separation between realms.Now, awakened by his connection with Kai, that energy was beginning to escape its carefully constructed channels.

And if his energy could escape, other things could enter.

Eliar stepped fully into the chamber, placing his hands on the altar stone. The light responded immediately, surging up his arms in familiar patterns. He closed his eyes, concentrating on forcing the energy back into its proper pathways, using techniques he had developed over centuries of exile.

But something was different. The energy resisted his control, not violently but persistently, like a river that had found a new course and refused to return to its old bed. His connection with Kai had changed something fundamental in the way his power flowed, and he wasn't sure he could contain it as he once had.

The realization was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating. Change, after so long in stasis. Movement, after centuries of stillness. But with change came danger—not just to him, but to Mistwood, to Kai, to the carefully maintained boundary between realms that his presence here had ironically helped reinforce.

After several minutes of struggle, Eliar managed to reduce the glow to a faint shimmer, a temporary solution at best. He stepped back from the altar, his mind racing with implications.

---