Page 52 of Starlit Bargains

Eliar stared at the outstretched hand as if it might burn him. Perhaps, in a way, it could. Trust was a dangerous thing for someone who had lived in isolation for so long, who had seen connection end in loss and pain time and again.

But then, slowly, he reached out and took Kai's hand.

The contact sent a familiar spark between them, gold meeting silver-blue in a brief flash of white light. It was smaller than before, more controlled, but still unmistakable—their magics recognizing each other, resonating despite everything.

Chapter 12

Unbound

Mistwood had always been a place of secrets—a village built on the foundations of ancient magic, its very existence a peculiarity in a world that had largely forgotten such things. For centuries, Eliar had called it home, finding in its isolation a mirror of his own. But as they approached the village gates, something felt fundamentally wrong.

The wrongness wasn't in the physical appearance. The weathered stone walls still stood as they had for generations. The modest homes with their thatched roofs and smoking chimneys remained unchanged. The market square still occupied the center, though quieter now than during peak trading hours.

No, the wrongness was in the air itself—a heaviness, a watchfulness. As if the village had become not just a collection of buildings and people, but a single, aware entity with its attention fixed upon them.

“Something's off,” Kai murmured beside him, echoing Eliar's thoughts. His hand hovered near the dagger at his hip, his stance shifting subtly into one better suited for quick movement.“I know we agreed to cut through the village to save time, but maybe we should reconsider.”

Briar, perched on Kai's shoulder, nodded vigorously. “Listen to him for once. This place feels like it's holding its breath.”

They were right, of course. The rational choice would be to turn back, to take the longer route around Mistwood's borders. But something beyond reason compelled Eliar forward—a need to understand what had changed in the village he'd observed for so long.

“We continue,” he said quietly. “But stay alert.”

The gates stood open, unguarded—unusual for this time of day. As they passed beneath the ancient stone archway, Eliar felt a faint tremor in the air, like crossing an invisible threshold. Not the usual boundary magic that surrounded Mistwood, but something else. Something new.

The few villagers visible on the streets watched their passage with unnerving intensity. Not with the curiosity that strangers typically evoked, nor even with the suspicion that had followed Kai during his previous visits. This was calculation—cold, measuring, as if assessing a threat or an opportunity.

“Friendly bunch,” Kai commented under his breath, his casual tone belied by the tension in his shoulders. “Maybe they're just not morning people.”

“It's mid-afternoon,” Eliar corrected automatically, his attention focused on their surroundings. The facades of the buildings seemed normal, but the shadows they cast stretched too long, too dark for the angle of the sun.

“Details, details,” Kai replied, but his eyes were scanning each alleyway they passed, each rooftop, his instincts clearly as alert as Eliar's own.

They moved through the village at a steady pace—not rushing, which would only draw more attention, but not dawdling either. Their goal was simple: pass through the mainsquare, take the eastern road out of Mistwood, and continue on toward Thornhaven. A journey of perhaps fifteen minutes through the village, if all went well.

But with each step, Eliar's certainty grew that all would not go well.

The main square opened before them, its cobblestones worn smooth by centuries of feet. The central well—once a mere practical necessity, now a symbolic gathering place—stood empty of the usual cluster of women drawing water and sharing gossip. In fact, the entire square was eerily deserted save for a few hooded figures standing at its edges.

The Village Keepers.

Eliar had always been aware of them, of course. They were part of Mistwood's peculiar governance, a small council of elders who enforced the village's laws and maintained its traditions. In all his years observing the village, he had thought them merely conservative, perhaps slightly paranoid in their determination to keep Mistwood isolated from outside influence.

Now, seeing them arranged at strategic points around the square, their hooded faces turned toward him with unmistakable purpose, Eliar understood with sudden clarity that they were something else entirely.

Just as they reached the center of the village, a bell chimed—low and eerie. The sound reverberated through the square, seeming to vibrate in Eliar's bones. Once, twice, three times it rang, and with each note, more hooded figures emerged from the buildings surrounding the square.

“I know this is a redundant question given the creepy ritual sacrifice vibe they're projecting,” Kai said, his voice low, “but I'm guessing we should be worried about those guys?”

An older man stepped forward from among the Keepers, pushing back his hood to reveal a weathered face that Eliar recognized—Elder Tobias, one of the oldest and most respectedof the Keepers. Eliar had observed him for decades, watching as his hair turned from brown to gray to white, as his back curved with age, as his influence in the village grew.

“Eliar of the Fallen Stars,” Elder Tobias said, his voice carrying clearly across the silent square. “You should have never come back. You should have never woken up.”

The use of his true name—not the simple “Eliar” he'd been known by in the village, but his fuller title from before his fall—sent a cold shock through him. The Keepers knew. Had always known, perhaps.

“What is this?” Eliar demanded, his own voice steady despite the turmoil within. “I've lived peacefully among you for centuries. I've harmed no one.”

“Lived among us?” Elder Tobias smiled, the expression devoid of warmth. “No, Fallen One. You have been contained by us. Your powers bound, your essence dampened. Kept dormant and harmless, as was our charge.”

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